Yam quickly scanned the room they were in. Behind the statue he saw another door, but it was locked. Yam kicked it with all his might, and the door gave way with a groan. The three squeezed into the next room, which was even smaller than the one they just left. On one wall hung an old painting of a ship whose stern bore an enormous cross. The shooting outside intensified.
Mor flattened himself against a wall. There has to be a secret passage out of here, he thought. Priests had always built themselves escape hatches. He thought about his father who, until yesterday, was still busy being mad at him. It seemed like an eternity ago. What he wouldn’t give to see him now.
Mor felt a punch to his shoulder. “To hell with you! If you hadn’t gone in here, we’d have been close to outside by now,” Yam said, his face red with fury.
“Or dead,” answered Mor. “You ought to be thanking me that we’re in here and not over there.”
Yam pushed Mor hard, who fell backward onto an old wooden cross leaning against a corner of the room.
The cross wobbled, lost contact with a wall and, creaking, broke apart. Mor leaped to his feet, his hands balled into fists, ready to fight, when he felt the tiles underneath him move. This is not happening, he thought.
Anise looked down into the pit that was now yawning open in the floor. “What have you done?” she yelled.
At the last moment, Mor tried to grab a hold of something but found nothing: the wall was too smooth. He fell into the deafening dark. He saw nothing around him, only felt his legs hitting water, making a loud splash as he dove down.
Seconds later, Yam too hit the water and dove. He kicked hard and swam up to the surface, gratefully inhaling the cold air. A third thud was heard, and Yam assumed it was Anise.
“She can’t swim,” Mor yelled before diving back down.
There was no time to think. Yam dove too. The water was murky. His eyes stung and he couldn’t see a thing, but he let his hands do the searching. He was running out of air; within seconds he would have to break the surface, but he wasn’t willing to go up for air without her, without Anise, the maddening girl he dreamt about night after night. He wasn’t going to give up. Suddenly, his hands felt something. They were passing over Anise’s limp body. He grabbed her around the middle and, with a mighty kick, headed up with the last of the air in his lungs.
The two boys pulled the unconscious Anise toward a dry corner. Mor started to resuscitate her. Several tense seconds followed before she started to move, cough, and expel mouthful after mouthful of fetid water.
“Silly girl,” a red-eyed Mor whispered. He stroked her arm.
Yam was examining the cave. Water lapped his feet. He turned his flashlight on and looked at the ground that, until just a moment ago, had been dry.
“The water is rising! We have to get out of here,” he said.
Mor helped a pale Anise to her feet. Suddenly Mor yelped, “Something bit me!” and almost knocked the flashlight out of Yam’s hand. The water was rising quickly now, and Anise shrieked in terror when she realized the water was full of rats.
Yam lifted the flashlight over his head and looked at Anise with worry. “I’m fine,” she said while trying hard to smile.
The water was now at waist level; they had no choice but to keep going forward. Yam thought he saw a ray of sun at the far end of the cave. If the sun can make it in, there has to be a way out, he thought.
“Let the water pull you forward,” he shouted at them, starting to swim. Mor, carrying Anise on his back, moved more slowly in his wake.
Yam swam ahead with fast, powerful strokes. He was hardly able to see the opening in the roof of the cave above. He saw the sun painting a bright spot in the dark but found nothing to grab onto to pull himself upward.
The water continued to rise. Yam knew that time was running out, but tried to keep calm. “Anise, climb onto my shoulders,” he said, standing close to a wall.
He tried to boost her up, but Anise found nothing to grab and fell back into the water, landing next to a rat. She drew back in disgust and again tried to pull herself up, stepping on Yam who had gone underwater to leverage her up. This time she made it and, using every ounce of energy, she started climbing the wall toward the opening.
By now, Yam was barely able to stand upright. He motioned to Mor to hurry up. “When you reach the top, throw something to me,” he yelled. From above, Anise held her out her hand to Mor and he heaved himself up after her. Without stopping to breathe, Mor emptied the backpack of everything the old man had packed. When at last he found the rope, heaved a sigh of relief and, in his heart, offered thanks to Ali who’d thought of everything. After all, he didn’t think Anise would have been happy to volunteer her shirt. He and Anise quickly tied the rope around their waists and threw the other end down to Yam.
Yam felt many dozens of teeth biting into his flesh underwater. Losing his balance, he felt himself swept away by the rapid current. The distance between him and the rope dangling in the air was growing greater by the second. Taking an enormous breath of air, Yam struggled to swim
