The Deep Zone

I got him back quickly.” Arguello’s English was excellent, but Hallie understood that the stress of the dive was scrambling his grammar. “It was colder than I had thought it might be.” Arguello, whippet-thin, had not an ounce of extra body fat.

“Maybe I’ll brew up some hot tea for everybody,” Bowman said. “We could all use a bracer.”

“Let me do that. You pay attention to the divers.” Hallie went to a flat-topped rock nearby, set up one of the little mountaineering stoves they were carrying, and began heating water in an aluminum pot. In the cave, the small stove’s hissing formed a steady high note over the wind and the flowing water’s bass lines. The burner’s circle of flame under the pot cast a sapphire glow.

Before the water boiled, Al Cahner surfaced in the pool, splashed around, and waded to the edge. Arguello took his pack and Bowman reached down to lift him out. They locked hands and Bowman heaved, and Hallie was surprised to hear him grunt with the effort.

“You’re heavier than you look,” he said to Cahner.

For a second, Cahner just stared. Then, pulling off his rebreather unit, he smiled and said, “Maybe I absorbed some water. Like a sponge?” Bowman chuckled and Cahner continued: “Well, that was really something. I mean, I have done some serious scuba diving, but that, my friends, was… extraordinary.”

“Did your rebreather work okay?” Bowman asked.

“Oh, yes, fine. I loved the heads-up display. Never used one like that before.”

“Tea’s almost ready,” Hallie called.

“In my pack you’ll find a bit of medicinal,” Bowman said, still standing with Cahner. “I’d say we could all do with a tot. It’s in a red flask.”

She went to his pack, opened it, and found the flask. Back at the boulder table, she poured a good dollop of liquor into each metal mug of tea, stirred in sugar and a little powdered lemonade, and carried three over to the men, who were standing beside the sump awaiting Haight’s arrival.

“Here you go. Service with a smile.”

“Thank you.” Cahner blew on the hot liquid, sipped gingerly, his eyes going wide. “Whooo. Rum.”

Arguello took a mug, but Bowman declined the third. “Why don’t you have that one?” he told Hallie.

“There’s more back there.”

“He should have been here by now.” Bowman was watching the surface of the lake.

“Haight? No worries about him. He’s probably the most experienced cave diver among us.” But she understood that Bowman had refused the rum-laced tea in case he might have to dive again. She went ahead and sampled the spiked tea herself. It exploded in her mouth, seared her tongue, and burned all the way down to her stomach. Maybe the best drink she had ever tasted.

“Whew. That’s some rum.”

“One hundred eighty proof,” Bowman said. “Real Navy grog.”

“If I’d known that, I’d have been a bit lighter with the pours.”

“It’s absolutely bracing.” Cahner, sipping gingerly. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Bowman was looking at his watch. “By my reckoning, he’s almost ten minutes overdue.”

“Bowman, really, he’s…” Her reassurance faded. In fact, she, too, was becoming concerned about Haight.

“I know his experience. But it makes his absence more troubling.”

That, she had to admit, was true. Still, it had been a relatively straightforward dive, if you could ever say that about a cave dive. Tight passage and poor visibility, sure, but Haight would have dealt with worse many times.

Bowman picked up his rebreather. “I’m going back. I want all of you to stay here. If I don’t return, you are not to come looking for me. Hallie will become the mission leader.”

“Bowman.” Hallie stepped forward. “I’m coming. You should have a buddy.”

“Not in a cave rescue. Or recovery. Protocol for those is solo. Two divers doubles the likelihood of problems. You know that.”

She did. He was right, and she backed off.

“Is everyone clear?” Bowman’s voice was sharper.

Each of them voiced acknowledgment. But Arguello held up a hand. “I understand the mission-critical aspect of what you just described. But I have an unpleasant question. If you do not return, it will presumably be because you have drowned in the tunnel. If that is the case, how will we make the return passage?”

“You will have to pull me out. Ron, too, if it comes to that. Clear?”

They acknowledged the instruction. Bowman geared up and got into the water. They watched him sink beneath the surface, his helmet lights dimming and disappearing quickly as he retraced the route. Hallie felt part of her heart sinking as well.

They sat on nearby rocks and turned off their lights to conserve batteries.

Before long, Al Cahner spoke, his voice tense: “I hope to God that young man is all right. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but really quite likable.”

“Haight’s dived some of the toughest caves in the country,” Hallie pointed out. “My guess is he’s just taking his time, having fun with a new toy, his rebreather.”

No one spoke for a while. Hallie took a Snickers bar from a pocket of her caving suit, unwrapped it, and broke it into three pieces. Without turning on her light, she stood and walked to where Arguello was sitting. She moved lightly, the sound of wind and flowing water covering her footsteps.

“Have some chocolate, Rafael.”

“Jesus.” Arguello, startled, jumped off his rock seat. “Where did you come from?”

She moved on to Cahner, handed him a piece, and returned to her own place.

“How did you do that?” Arguello asked the question through a mouthful of Snickers.

“I learned it from other cavers a long time ago. You should, too. Before you turn off your light, make a mental snapshot of your surroundings. It’s hard at first, but gets to be second nature after a while. You’d be amazed at how much detail you can retain with practice.”

“I will try to learn how to do that myself.”

“It’s a necessary skill down here,” Cahner said.

Then they were quiet. Hallie listened to the sound of air moving through the cave, and to flowing water, and she felt the cave enveloping them. Most people thought caves were dead and silent places, she knew, but they were rarely silent and never dead. Life thrived in every cave, often weird life, it was true, but weirdness was really in the eye of the beholder.

And then, almost as if he had been reading her mind, Arguello spoke:

“I was telling you earlier that many native peoples believe caves are alive.”

“Tell me—tell us—more,” Cahner said.

“I am pleased by your interest. Many scientists are quick to dismiss such things.”

“These people and their beliefs have survived for thousands of years. That says something,” Cahner pointed out.

“Indeed. So, the Cuicatecs say that caves breathe, which we know they do. They have circulatory systems, which is also true. Ours have blood in them; caves’ systems have mineral-rich water.”

Arguello paused to chew a bit of candy bar, then continued: “There’s more. According to Cuicatec beliefs, caves eat and excrete—two more of science’s criteria for classifying something as a living organism.”

“I’m not sure I get those,” Cahner said.

“Think of the earth as a big apple and a cave as a worm eating tunnels through it. And caves do have excretory systems—the rivers that flush waste from them. And they can heal themselves when injured.”

Cahner nodded. “All true, when you really think about it.”

Hallie had a question of her own. “So those are all the physical characteristics, Rafael. What about the other? The spirit? The thing they call Chi Con Gui-Jao.”

“The Cuicatecs believe that the first people were born out of this cave into the light. This cave and a few others. As we saw, they made sacrifices to appease the spirits that live here. For many centuries, also, they buried