Doug Allyn - Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 125, No. 6. Whole No. 766, June 2005

He took her into his arms. “Here’s what we’ll have to do,” he’d said, “I’ll have to go out through there and go for help.”

“Why did you bring me in here? You could have come alone.”

“There’s no use in talking about that now. Don’t you understand? There’s no point in talking about anything except getting out.”

She remained silent.

“It’s the only choice we’ve got.” He knew she was thinking about being left alone in the cave. “There’s nothing in here that’ll bother you. I’ll get back with help as quickly as I can.”

She still didn’t speak.

He had run probably a hundred yards from the mouth of the cave, ripping and stumbling through the coarse underbrush. He had run hard, which he realized was stupid because he was already exhausted in the wet clothes and shoes. And he’d run straight ahead, which was also stupid, hoping in his desperation for a miracle, someone standing there, waiting to help him. He stopped, turned, and started back toward the cave, jogging. He passed the mouth of the cave, cringed, and started up the side of the hill toward the other entrance, the “lock” through which they’d entered. It wasn’t far. The chamber was much shorter on the outside than it seemed within.

He stopped at the lock, leaned against the sign, and looked in. Nothing. Darkness. He shouted down the hole, “Sweetheart, are you all right?” No answer. “I’m out safely. Be back soon with help.” No answer. “Sweetheart? Take it easy, now. I’ll be right back.” Silence. “Sweetheart? Are you okay?” Nothing. She couldn’t possibly hear him. It was too far down the sheer, vertical, convoluted drop of the lock, through the twisting passageways, to the gravel beach by the pool with the emerald light source at the bottom.

He glanced around. The sun had set and night was coming on fast. Night would snuff out the emerald glow, the only source of light in the cave where he had left her. Had he made a mistake? A really stupid mistake? He should have stayed there with her all night and left at the first sign of light in the pool. He should have left her alone during daylight, with at least the little green glow in the water. He’d figured wrong again. Stumbled ahead without planning, just the way she said he always did. Should he drop back down through the lock and wait with her until morning? He was already out. The dive had been tough. Real tough. His lungs and ears had nearly exploded. The water was deep. Maybe he’d get lucky and get back with help in a hurry.

He pushed away from the opening and broke into a run, toward the road, he hoped. He had found the cave from the road. He should be able to find the road again. But it was rapidly getting dark.

She was alone in darkness now. She had the flashlight but he had cautioned her against burning it continuously. “It won’t last too long,” he had said. “I’ll probably be back long before it’d burn out, but we’d better not take any chances. Best thing to do is just turn it on for a minute or two and take a quick look around every once in a while. Or if you hear something.” What a stupid thing to have said! He’d realized it as soon as he’d gotten it out. “But you won’t hear anything because there’s nothing to hear. There’s nothing down here. Nothing to be afraid of.”

“Why did you bring me here?” she’d asked again.

He came to the road. Right at the place where they’d left it, right by the landmark for finding the cave, the big white boulder shaped like a cow’s head with one horn. At least he still had his sense of direction.

He looked up and down the desolate road, trying to decide which direction would bring the quickest help. He couldn’t see any lights in either direction. It was a cloudy night and was going to get good and dark. To the right was back toward town. He vaguely remembered seeing a few little houses somewhere back that way. To the left was unknown. Just around the curve could be help. Maybe he’d get lucky.

He started down the road to the left, running, but not fast. His clothes were nearly dry but the wet shoes burned his feet. As he rounded the curve in the road, he could make out that the road went straight for a long stretch and there wasn’t a light of any kind in sight. This stopped him. He’d be better off going back toward town.

He stopped and started back in the opposite direction, running slowly, more of a trot, hardly faster than a walk. He passed the cow-head rock and headed into another curve. He slowed to a walk because he couldn’t run anymore. It was extremely dark. He began to realize that a lot of time had passed since he left the cave. He thought of her alone in total blackness on the rocky beach by the pool, bruised and skinned from the descent through the moss-slicked lock. He walked a little faster for a while and then he saw the pinpoint of light ahead.

The light spurred him into a dead run, and as he pounded toward it, he realized it was much farther away than it had looked. He finally had to stop running and walk because of the pain in his sides. When the pain had let up, he started running again and reached the little frame house with the wooden porch. He ran across the yard, walked up onto the porch, and rapped on the screen door.

The lights went out in the house and then he heard a slide latch on the inside of the front door. “Hey, please,” he shouted. He slapped the screen door against the jamb several more times. “You gotta help me. My wife’s in the bottom of the cave back down the road.” He paused. Hearing no sound within, he hit the screen door again. “Hey, please, help me. Just let me use your phone.” He waited again. Still no signs of response. “Call the police,” he shouted. “At least do that. Will you do that?”

He looked at the window that had gone dark after his first knock. He thought about kicking it out and going in and getting them to help him. But they might have a gun and decide to shoot him. That’s what he’d probably do if he was in the house and somebody came busting in.

He rattled the screen one more time. “Aren’t you going to help me? Please! My wife’s in the bottom of that cave up the road. Just call the cops for me.”

He paused again. They obviously weren’t going to do anything. He turned and sat down on the porch step. She was alone in that black cave. How was he going to get her out? He’d really done it this time.

He loved her. He really did. Loved her more than he thought possible. She was so great to him. She put up with so much. Sometimes he wondered why she did. He didn’t drink and he didn’t chase around after other girls. That was probably part of it. And he loved her and she knew it.

But he had to do things. That was the way he was. He heard about things and just had to do them. That was why they didn’t have anything. She often said they probably never would. But he couldn’t help it. Once he got a bug up his ass, he was off and running. The sky-diving lessons. The flying lessons. That stuff cost big money. And the automatic rifle with the scope. That had cost all of both their take-home pay from the mill for a week.

They didn’t need that rifle. But once he’d made up his mind, she went along with it. They’d taken it and hiked out to the old quarry a couple of times and floated bottles and beer cans on the water and sat up on the rim of the quarry and used up a couple of boxes of shells potting away at the stuff, taking turns. Then she’d heard the ricochet. Since that time, the rifle just hung on the wall in their apartment.

He thought about their apartment. She called it their rat’s nest and that was just about right. But he couldn’t help it. He’d rather do things than have things. They didn’t even have a car. Not even an old one. They walked to the mill and they hitched most everywhere else. They’d had a bike for a while, a Harley, a real beauty, but he’d wiped it out trying to learn to hill-climb. He’d had to let it go and he got off just in time, then sat there watching it head back down alone, end over end, just flying. They made payments for eight more months on something they couldn’t ride. Salvage parts covered one payment.