dancing flames of his own imagination. “You can have your city skyscrapers. For me, Mother Cave has the most enduring, the most perfect architecture in the world.”
Somewhere in the darkness a coyote barked out a long, lonesome howl, and Pia scooted in beside me, slivers of fire glowing in her dark eyes.
“Stalagmites rising from the floor like giant daggers,” Monroe continued. “Stalactites hanging from the ceiling like priceless chandeliers. Towering domes, some as high as a 20-story building. Immense chambers that would dwarf the Louisiana Superdome. Spacious hallways the likes of which have not been seen since King Tut.” He stirred the fire with a stick. “Underground passageways barricaded by the weight of their own ceiling, and narrow tunnels so cramped that a man inflicted with the disease of claustrophobia finds himself screaming forgiveness for some long-ago sin.”
“You’re scaring me, Mr. Huff,” Pia said softly, her hand over her chest. “I can feel my heart beating.”
“Sorry, sweet pea. My sermon’s over.”
“What’s the biggest cave you’ve ever seen?” I asked.
Monroe tilted his head and squeezed one eye shut. “I’d say the Great Room in New Mexico’s Carlsbad Cavern. It measures over 33,000 square feet. She’s gone commercial, though. Tourists only.”
“Gosh, I hope we see a cave that big,” Pia said.
“The deepest cave in the world is called Krubera Cave. It’s located in the Republic of Georgia near the town of Gagra not far from the Black Sea,” Monroe said in a dreamy voice. “She goes more than a mile down. That’s one cave I must explore before I die.”
“Maybe you will,” Pia said. “But where’s the Black Sea?”
“Have you ever heard of the country called Turkey?”
“Oh, sure.”
“The Black Sea forms Turkey’s northern border.”
“Oh.”
The embers from the fire rose into the cool night sky like fireflies. Somewhere in the darkness a hoot owl sang.
“It’s the lure of the abyss, my young friends,” Monroe said, tossing a couple more sticks into the flames, his eyes sweeping over us. “And with that morsel of wisdom I believe it’s time we called it a night.” Monroe climbed to his feet.
“What about that stupid bear?” Kiki asked.
“What about it?” Monroe said.
“Shouldn’t someone stand guard or something?” Kiki peered uneasily into the darkness that crowded our campsite from all sides.
“Can if you want,” Monroe said. “Me, I’m going to bed. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We’ll learn soon enough if this map is real.” He shot me a malevolent glance.
I wanted to make my case for the authenticity of the map—I was about to rip open with excitement—but decided to quit while I was ahead.
“One other piece of business, Pablo,” the Caveman said. “Tell old Monroe how you came by this map. No fairy tales—the truth.”
“Well,” I began with a crooked little smile, “we bought it at the Outlaw Days Festival for a dollar.”
Monroe stood silently for a full ten seconds before bursting into clamorous laughter. “A one-dollar treasure map! I must be the biggest fool on the planet!”
Laughing to himself, Monroe then took his space blanket—a lightweight metallic cover he had instructed everyone to bring—and stepped over to one of the canoes lying on its side. He spread the blanket under the canoe, crawled in, and then pulled the metallic spread over his body.
No one spoke for the longest time. Finally, I said, “I’ll stand guard for a while. I’m not real sleepy.”
Kiki was tired and she didn’t argue—neither did Pia. They laid their space blankets under the other canoe and crawled in. Two minutes later they were both asleep.
By midnight my eyelids were so heavy that I fell asleep. I was awakened several hours later by the sound of a human voice. I had fallen asleep stretched out beside the fire, my backpack under my head, my space blanket wrapped around my body. The fire had
Somewhere in the darkness a coyote barked out a long, lonesome howl, and Pia scooted in beside me, slivers of fire glowing in her dark eyes.
“Stalagmites rising from the floor like giant daggers,” Monroe continued. “Stalactites hanging from the ceiling like priceless chandeliers. Towering domes, some as high as a 20-story building. Immense chambers that would dwarf the Louisiana Superdome. Spacious hallways the likes of which have not been seen since King Tut.” He stirred the fire with a stick. “Underground passageways barricaded by the weight of their own ceiling, and narrow tunnels so cramped that a man inflicted with the disease of claustrophobia finds himself screaming forgiveness for some long-ago sin.”
“You’re scaring me, Mr. Huff,” Pia said softly, her hand over her chest. “I can feel my heart beating.”
“Sorry, sweet pea. My sermon’s over.”
“What’s the biggest cave you’ve ever seen?” I asked.
Monroe tilted his head and squeezed one eye shut. “I’d say the Great Room in New Mexico’s Carlsbad Cavern. It measures over 33,000 square feet. She’s gone commercial, though. Tourists only.”
“Gosh, I hope we see a cave that big,” Pia said.
“The deepest cave in the world is called Krubera Cave. It’s located in the Republic of Georgia near the town of Gagra not far from the Black Sea,” Monroe said in a dreamy voice. “She goes more than a mile down. That’s one cave I must explore before I die.”
“Maybe you will,” Pia said. “But where’s the Black Sea?”
“Have you ever heard of the country called Turkey?”
“Oh, sure.”
“The Black Sea forms Turkey’s northern border.”
“Oh.”
The embers from the fire rose into the cool night sky like fireflies. Somewhere in the darkness a hoot owl sang.
“It’s the lure of the abyss, my young friends,” Monroe said, tossing a couple more sticks into the flames, his eyes sweeping over us. “And with that morsel of wisdom I believe it’s time we called it a night.” Monroe climbed to his feet.
“What about that stupid bear?” Kiki asked.
“What about it?” Monroe said.
“Shouldn’t someone stand guard or something?” Kiki peered uneasily into the darkness that crowded our campsite from all sides.
“Can if you want,” Monroe said. “Me, I’m going to bed. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. We’ll learn soon enough if this map is real.” He shot me a malevolent glance.
I wanted to make my case for the authenticity of the map—I was about to rip open with excitement—but decided to quit while I was ahead.
“One other piece of business, Pablo,” the Caveman said. “Tell old Monroe how you came by this map. No fairy tales—the truth.”
“Well,” I began with a crooked little smile, “we bought it at the Outlaw Days Festival for a dollar.”
Monroe stood silently for a full ten seconds before bursting into clamorous laughter. “A one-dollar treasure map! I must be the biggest fool on the planet!”
Laughing to himself, Monroe then took his space blanket—a lightweight metallic cover he had instructed everyone to bring—and stepped over to one of the canoes lying on its side. He spread the blanket under the canoe, crawled in, and then pulled the metallic spread over his body.
No one spoke for the longest time. Finally, I said, “I’ll stand guard for a while. I’m not real sleepy.”
Kiki was tired and she didn’t argue—neither did Pia. They laid their space blankets under the other canoe and crawled in. Two minutes later they were both asleep.
By midnight my eyelids were so heavy that I fell asleep. I was awakened several hours later by the sound of a human voice. I had fallen asleep stretched out beside the fire, my backpack under my head, my space blanket wrapped around my body. The fire had
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