The walls were impossibly slippery and his injured finger made it almost impossible to get any kind of purchase on the stone. All he could do was try and think, to push through the fog that closed in around his brain. The only thing he could hear now was the occasional drop of water. Nothing was going on above him. He started walking along the wall, feeling for any craggy areas, or a drier section of rock that he could use to elevate himself.
As he made his way around towards the other side of the cave, feeling with his hands, the dank, musty smell of the cave got stronger, until it smelled strongly like rotting leaves, no not that, something else. He shuffled further, and further. He recognized the smell now. It reminded him of when he had found a dead raccoon under the front steps of the house. It was the height of summer and he would never forget the smell as he had to scrape its stiff corpse into a garbage bag. He stopped immediately and hurried back the way he came, telling himself some jungle animal had just fallen in. Not one of Samuel’s victims. He didn’t want to imagine the look of the bodies while he sat trapped in the dark. If he was never found, he could be stuck here a long time with them. It would get light soon, and then he would be forced to confront whatever was there. He got as far away as he could from the source of the rancid odor but he could still smell it, like his brain wouldn’t let him forget. He imagined what a corpse might look like if it had been submerged in water for days. His mind conjured flashes of purple, swollen flesh, bulging eyes. Flesh falling away. Slippage. It was only now he wished he had spent less time looking at gory sites in the darkest corners of the World Wide Web.
He tried to think about something else, but started wondering how long hypothermia might take to set in. Although it was warm in the jungle, the cold stone and damp atmosphere had raised goosebumps across his bare arms and his hairs stood to attention. There was only so long he could stand it. His feet were already numb. Now he’d had time to process what had happened, he fought the urge to sob. This wasn’t how he was supposed to go out. Cold. Uncomfortable. In pain. Terrified. If Samuel had killed Josie, this would all have been for nothing. Just piling misery on misery. The sorrow branched out from Tanya, to her parents, to Josie. It then crept from Josie, to Miguel, Miguel’s family, to himself, maybe even to Aleksander. One tragedy had ruined so many lives. Although everything had turned to shit, Michael wasn’t sure he still wouldn’t have joined Josie if he could go back in time. He envisioned an alternate universe in which everyone was still alive. Fantasizing was the only thing that could get him from one minute to the next, not just in this dark place, but through his entire life.
He went to wrap his arms around himself to keep warm but cried out in pain as he touched the gash and just held his arms limply to his side. His broken finger throbbed and the wound on his side started to itch as he imagined the water he had been sharing with a decaying body lapping over it. He screamed. First he screamed curse words into the void at the top of his lungs, and then he called for help. This then devolved into guttural animal-like sounds.
Once he had exhausted himself he leaned his forehead against the solid rock and let silent tears fall. Even if Josie wasn’t dead, a worse fate could be befalling her right now. As he thought about all the awful things that could have been happening to her at that exact moment, light flooded in from above.
“Michael.” The voice called, distorted by the curves of the walls, but it definitely wasn’t Samuel.
“Help.” He called back hoarsely.
“They took my car.”
“Miguel. Is that you?” Michael’s cries turned to hysterical laughter.
“Yes. Hold on.” Miguel’s voice echoed back.
The crushing feeling of dread subsided somewhat, but he still had no idea how he was going to get back up. Samuel had probably left him there, assuming he was as good as dead. Maybe Samuel had underestimated him.
The beam lit up the stalactites that hung down like icicles. “Okay. Listen. There used to be a ladder, but no more. You need to swim. There is smaller cenote connected by the underground cavern. I used to do when I was young. I did it with no gear. I left a safety wire. It will maybe still be there. You follow it all the way to other side. You feel for it. It is at the deeper end. Go right.”
The things Miguel was saying were impossible and Michael wondered if he was really expecting him to do this. To dive into pitch blackness without a source of oxygen. He must have gone mad. The only thing that made him go through with it, was what had happened to Miguel. He felt responsible too, and if Miguel had to endure seeing his wife like he did, hanging from the balcony, then Michael would have to suck it up and endure this. The thought of it made his blood run colder than it already was. There was no way he could do this. He struggled to hold his breath for long
