seven-foot bulk onto the ledge.
“We did it!” Konrad said, grasping me by the shoulders.
“I was just the bait,” I said.
Elizabeth was looking at the pool in horror. “The water’s overflowing down the tunnel! We need to go!”
There was no question of bringing the entire fish. Polidori had said the head was more than adequate, and so Konrad began to hack at it with his saber.
“Hurry!” Elizabeth cried.
Finally he severed the head, wrapped it tightly in oilcloth, and crammed it into his rucksack.
We turned up the wicks of our lanterns and made all haste, for the water was up to our knees now. When the tunnel angled downward, the water pushed hard against our legs and, after a few minutes, our waists.
“No,” breathed Konrad, peering into the distance.
Then I saw. At the tunnel’s lowest point, before the passage tilted sharply up, the water was nearing the ceiling. We were being cut off.
“Run!” I shouted.
It was impossible to run, loaded down as we were, up to our armpits in water. Elizabeth tripped and nearly disappeared under the surface. Her lantern snuffed out instantly. With my good arm I grabbed her and dragged her back to her feet. Ahead the tunnel was all but sealed. We slogged on with all our strength and speed, the icy water at our necks, spilling down our collars.
Konrad and I held our lanterns high. We had but seconds before our heads would be covered.
“We must get through!” Konrad cried. “It’s only a few yards until the passage slopes up again on the other side!”
“The water’s current will speed us!” I said. “Go, go now!” The water was at my mouth.
“Hold hands!” Elizabeth cried, grasping out for us.
Our lanterns fizzled out, and the darkness was more intense than anything I’d ever known. I gulped air and went under, half swimming, half trudging, clutching my lantern. My hand slipped from Elizabeth’s. The glacial water churned and pushed at me-and my greatest fear was that I’d get turned around and die in the flood.
Was the tunnel floor rising now? It was hard to tell in all the darkness and crushing cold. I forged ahead until I had no more breath, and then pushed up, slapping about with my hands. Water. More water, and then Air! Was it air?
My head came up and I gasped. I wallowed ahead, water still up to my shoulders and rising fast.
“Konrad? Elizabeth?”
“I’m here!” came my brother’s voice. “Elizabeth?”
There was a splash, and coughing. “Victor! Konrad!”
“We’re all here,” said Konrad, and I felt hands against me, all of us reaching out for the others.
“Forward!” I cried. “The water’s still coming!”
“Up ahead,” panted Konrad, “at the intersection, there’s another downward tunnel-”
“The water will take that course,” I said.
We slogged uphill, soaking cold and leaden with exhaustion. But we could not slow, for the flood was always at our armpits or necks. I fought for every step, every breath. We called out to one another, just to make sure we were all still there, all alive.
The water was at my waist, then my calves, and then, suddenly, it gave me a last final push and I staggered and fell onto wet stone. On all fours I crawled until the floor beneath me was dry.
“This way!” I called out.
“Are we all here?” Konrad shouted.
“Light the lanterns!” cried Elizabeth.
“It’s no use,” came my twin’s voice. “The wicks are sodden. Victor-”
“Half a moment,” I said, fumbling in my rucksack. My hands grasped the wet case, and I carefully slid out the glass container. At once the tunnel was bathed in a green glow.
“We are glad of the flameless fire now, are we not?” I said to Konrad, my teeth chattering.
“Glad indeed,” he said.
“You’re a genius, Victor!” said Elizabeth, and her words warmed me.
Behind us I saw the water, still welling up from the tunnel, curving round in a frothing serpentine torrent to plunge down the other descending passage. For a moment we all sat there and watched, numb and exhausted.
“The light is wonderful,” said Elizabeth, “but did any of you think to bring a change of clothes?”
Miserably I shook my head, as did Konrad.
How could we not have thought of such a thing?
“In that caving book I found,” Elizabeth said, shuddering, “it said the most common cause of death was getting wet and cold. So I packed a waterproof pouch and put in a change of clothes for myself-and you two as well.”
“Elizabeth-,” I said, and was rendered speechless by my gratitude and admiration.
“Thank you,” gasped Konrad.
“Now,” she said, rooting around in her rucksack and producing dry clothing for us, “strip off your wet things. Get as dry as you can before putting on the fresh ones.” She looked at us impatiently. “Get on with it! I won’t peek, and you two mustn’t either.”
She turned her back on us and went down the tunnel a ways to change.
Shivering, I stripped, trying to mop the water off my skin. In the green light I looked like some shriveled goblin. As frigid as I was, it took a good deal of willpower not to turn my head and take a quick peek at Elizabeth.
“It’s a pity we can’t have a fire to warm up,” she said when we were all changed.
“We must get to the surface as quickly as we can,” I said.
Even in the dry clothes I was cold. And our boots were still sodden, but there was nothing we could do about that.
“What time is it?” Elizabeth asked.
Konrad fished about in his pocket and dragged out his clock. “The face is shattered. Yours, Victor?”
When I retrieved mine, I saw that the glass was filled with water and the hands were motionless at three o’clock. I showed it to my brother.
“Coming on four, then,” he said.
“It took us three hours to get down here,” I said, “and that was downhill, and when we were rested.”
“Let’s go,” said Elizabeth. “Our exertion will warm us. And your fabulous green light will make sure we don’t miss my markings.”
We silently began our march. I couldn’t have talked if I’d wanted to, my teeth chattered so violently. Every so often we forced ourselves to eat some soggy food and drink cold water from our flasks.
One foot after the other. I did not know if I was slowly warming, or getting number still. I was not sure what I felt-until I was suddenly on my knees, Elizabeth beside me.
“His wound’s bleeding badly,” she said to Konrad.
“It’s nothing,” I said.
“You nearly fainted, Victor.” She was pulling bandages from her pack and removing the old bloodstained one. She dressed my wound once more. I stood.
“Are you all right?” Konrad asked me.
“Let’s just get out of here,” I said.
Time did not exist down there. Ancient rock, ancient fish. I would not have been surprised if a century had passed aboveground. I might have been sleepwalking, even as I squeezed once more through the tunnel’s birth canal and jumped again over the waterfall’s chasm. And then more walking.
We had our coelacanth head. That was what I kept telling myself as we carried on, dragging our bodies up from the bowels of the earth. That was all that kept me going.
When we reached the cave with our rope, I nearly cried-with gratitude and despair both, for I feared I did not have the strength to make that final climb. I sat down on the lowest step of the stone pedestal to catch my breath.
