colored limestone soared upward to form a rough dome. The cave was like a chute that funneled water in, then down, the cascade’s roar loud but not deafening.
“It drops a long way,” Rowe said. “There are steps the water follows. The next one is three meters beneath us.”
He crept closer to the edge and peered over. His light revealed the next level down, maybe ten feet below, which jutted out to another black edge where water disappeared over the side.
“Do you have any idea what we’re supposed to do here?” Rowe asked.
He shook his head. “Not a clue.”
A loud smack could be heard over the falling water.
Then another.
They stared at each other.
The sound came from outside.
They both doused their lights and walked cautiously back to the exit. Outside, atop the dam, stood a man. Tall and thin. Swinging the outline of what appeared to be a sledgehammer, smacking the stones with full force.
“Stop that,” Rowe yelled.
The man’s head glanced up, then he lashed down with another blow.
Rowe unsnapped his holster and removed the gun. He pointed the weapon toward the blackened figure.
“I said stop.”
The man swung one more time.
Rowe fired.
But his target had disappeared over the side into the river.
The dam burst open, water and rock exploding toward them. Twenty feet separated them from the calamity, which bought maybe three seconds. Alarm sent Tom darting left, away from the entrance, hoping that he could move out of the onslaught’s path.
Rowe was not as quick.
The water, which before had been a few inches deep, was now a raging flood, full of projectiles, pouring into the cave.
Tom yelled, but it was too late.
Rowe was swept off his feet and disappeared in the darkness.
———
ZACHARIAH EMERGED FROM THE CAR. ROCHA HAD PARKED A few meters away from a pickup truck that sat just off a narrow graveled road. They were high on a bluff overlooking dark forest, the Caribbean a few kilometers to the north.
Falcon Ridge.
He inspected the truck’s bed. Full of tools. Rowe had come prepared. But for what? Rocha and Alle were now out of the car, Rocha checking the cliff edge, staring down. Water rushed below.
He heard a shout.
Then another.
And a gunshot.
“It came from down there,” Rocha said.
———
BENE REALIZED HE WAS IN TROUBLE. EVERYTHING BLURRED INTO one whirling spiral. The swift current surged him toward the edge and there was nothing he could use to stop himself. He knew the drop on the other side was about three meters, and he hoped there was enough water down there to cushion his fall. Otherwise, bones were going to break.
He plunged over the side.
He tried to right himself and land on his feet, but gravity’s pull on both him and the water was relentless. He hit the next ledge with his boots, rebounded, then slammed to the rock. Water battered his body. He gasped for breath and bit his tongue, tasting blood. The flow was deeper here, maybe half a meter, the current fast, but not overpowering. He was planted on his soles, body not moving. Splashes around him signaled rock from the dam raining from above. He still held the light in his right hand.
More splashes.
He had to move.
He turned and spotted a ledge extending from the vertical wall, where the water from above was diverted, creating a waterfall within a waterfall.
Cover.
Not much, but maybe enough.
He leaped toward it and pressed his body close, water pouring down only a few centimeters away.
More thuds came as boulders from the dam kept falling.
