Copyright © 2005 by Joseph Monninger.
Why’d You Bring Me Here?
by Stanley Cohen
Stanley Cohen’s short fiction has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies, including The Year’s Best Mystery and Suspense Stories and World’s Finest Mystery and Crime Stories. In 2002, one of his tales appeared in the Mystery Writers of America’s collection Murder in the Family, edited by Lawrence Block. He joins us here with a tale of pure suspense.
Soaking wet, he emerged from the mouth of the cave into the chill air. Nothing looked familiar. After hesitating a moment, he broke into an exhausting dead run, straight ahead, through the snagging underbrush. His feet were cold and leaden in his waterlogged shoes. He had to get help and get back to the cave. He had to get her out of there, if possible before nightfall. The sun was already down into the tree line, dusk less than an hour away.
“There’s just one way out of here,” he’d told her. “And that’s by swimming. Underwater. We’ve got to dive in and swim underwater toward that spot of light, and when we come up on the other side of that big rock, we can walk right out.”
“Why’d you bring me here?” she’d said.
“It was a mistake. But that’s not what’s important now. What’s important is that there’s only one way out: by diving right toward that spot of light and coming up on the other side of the rock.”
“You know I can’t swim.”
“You’ve got to. Don’t you understand?”
“I can’t.”
“But we don’t have a chance of getting out any other way. Don’t you understand? It’s the only way out. There’s no use trying to get back out the way we came.”
“I can’t swim.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“It’s no use. I can’t swim at all, much less dive down there. You knew that.”
“We’ve got to. It’s the only way. I’ll help you. I’ll pull you through it. But we’ve got to.” He’d turned the flashlight into her face briefly at that point and, seeing her expression, knew she’d never make it. For a moment he’d pictured in his mind trying to pull her down through it. And as he did, he experienced the kind of panic he knew must have gripped her. She was right. It was hopeless. You can help a nonswimmer on the surface of water but never, never downward through water. He’d imagined the two of them underwater, upside down, trying to move downward, deeper, toward nothing more than a glow of light, she desperately clutching at him and drowning and he losing control and feeling the cold underground water flowing into his own mouth and nose.
He’d had to give up the idea. It couldn’t be done. How deep was the pool? How far down was the pass-through? How large was the pass-through? Could he make it himself? Alone? He thought about getting stuck in it and thrashing helplessly until dead. He imagined her watching his legs as he’d start through, stop, and then kick until he stopped kicking. But that wouldn’t happen. Others had made it. Lots of them. He’d make it. But only alone. There was no other way.
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.