never ventured this far up the mountain. It just didn’t seem safe.
Sadie picked her way carefully to the top of the slope behind the sure-footed dog. Charlie pulled on the reins and removed the map again. She looked at it, looked ahead. The creek wound through a small valley three hundred feet below. On the other side was another rock face, massive and sheer. About ten feet above the creek, a large boulder jutted out of the mountain, this one shaped like an hourglass. Charlie’s eyes moved through the midline of the hourglass to the top of the face. Perched at the top, in a place where it had no business, was one of the biggest oak trees Charlie had ever seen. Its canopy was shaped oddly, like an umbrella. It had to be the “Oak Split by Lightning.” The entrance to the cave should be on the other side of the hourglass-shaped boulder. Charlie looked at her watch. She’d been riding for less than hour.
“Let’s go,” Charlie said, and Sadie began the descent through the rocks. At the bottom, just before they were to cross the creek a third time, Sadie spooked. She threw her head back, whinnied, and reared her front hooves off the ground. Charlie grabbed the saddle horn, barely managing to keep from going over backward.
“Easy, now,” she said, patting the horse on her thick neck. “Just a little ways to go.”
But Sadie refused to cross the creek. Charlie pleaded and cajoled, she even dismounted and tried leading Sadie into the water, but the horse would not budge.
“Coward,” Charlie said.
She walked Sadie fifty yards downstream to a laurel bush, tied the reins to a branch, retrieved the flashlight from one of the saddle bags, and walked back upstream with Biscuit beside her. She waded across the creek and climbed up next to the boulder. She stared, uncertain at first, but then her eyes widened.
The mouth loomed before her, a narrow ellipse about three feet wide and perhaps eight feet tall, almost entirely covered by crawling vines, inviting and repulsive at the same time. Charlie stepped to the mouth and stood there, breathing deeply, calming herself and screwing up her courage.
“You ready?” she said to Biscuit. The dog hung back; he wasn’t going in first.
She shined the beam inside. It penetrated several feet and then seemed to die out. She heard Sadie whinny. She took another couple of steps, now inside. She looked up. Slick, rock walls rose twenty feet on both sides, forming a tunnel. She looked down. No sign of animal waste, which meant, hopefully, no bears. More rock, shiny and hard, stretched out before her beneath her feet. She took a few more tentative steps. Biscuit was right behind her. The tunnel curved to her right. The blackness ahead was thick, impenetrable. She turned and looked back toward the light.
The tunnel sloped downward slightly. Ten feet inside, the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. Ten feet farther, it dropped some more. The darkness was cool and utterly silent. Charlie stopped. She was sure she’d never experienced this kind of complete silence, complete darkness, complete stillness. The only sound was Biscuit’s panting.
“If I keep going,” she said to the dog, “I’ll know what it’s like to be dead.”
Another ten feet and she would be so far around the curve that the entrance would disappear. The thought of being unable to see the light terrified Charlie. She didn’t want to go back, but like Sadie, she didn’t want to go forward.
Don’t be a sissy. It’s just a cave. The human race started out in places just like this.
More uneasy steps. Biscuit panting. The mouth was out of sight now, leaving Charlie wrapped in a cocoon of darkness. She thought about the batteries in the flashlight. Were they fresh? If they died… she wouldn’t think about that right now. Just a little farther. The grade beneath her feet steepened downward.
Another step. Another. The dog growled.
Charlie sensed something frightening. The
Sadie picked her way carefully to the top of the slope behind the sure-footed dog. Charlie pulled on the reins and removed the map again. She looked at it, looked ahead. The creek wound through a small valley three hundred feet below. On the other side was another rock face, massive and sheer. About ten feet above the creek, a large boulder jutted out of the mountain, this one shaped like an hourglass. Charlie’s eyes moved through the midline of the hourglass to the top of the face. Perched at the top, in a place where it had no business, was one of the biggest oak trees Charlie had ever seen. Its canopy was shaped oddly, like an umbrella. It had to be the “Oak Split by Lightning.” The entrance to the cave should be on the other side of the hourglass-shaped boulder. Charlie looked at her watch. She’d been riding for less than hour.
“Let’s go,” Charlie said, and Sadie began the descent through the rocks. At the bottom, just before they were to cross the creek a third time, Sadie spooked. She threw her head back, whinnied, and reared her front hooves off the ground. Charlie grabbed the saddle horn, barely managing to keep from going over backward.
“Easy, now,” she said, patting the horse on her thick neck. “Just a little ways to go.”
But Sadie refused to cross the creek. Charlie pleaded and cajoled, she even dismounted and tried leading Sadie into the water, but the horse would not budge.
“Coward,” Charlie said.
She walked Sadie fifty yards downstream to a laurel bush, tied the reins to a branch, retrieved the flashlight from one of the saddle bags, and walked back upstream with Biscuit beside her. She waded across the creek and climbed up next to the boulder. She stared, uncertain at first, but then her eyes widened.
The mouth loomed before her, a narrow ellipse about three feet wide and perhaps eight feet tall, almost entirely covered by crawling vines, inviting and repulsive at the same time. Charlie stepped to the mouth and stood there, breathing deeply, calming herself and screwing up her courage.
“You ready?” she said to Biscuit. The dog hung back; he wasn’t going in first.
She shined the beam inside. It penetrated several feet and then seemed to die out. She heard Sadie whinny. She took another couple of steps, now inside. She looked up. Slick, rock walls rose twenty feet on both sides, forming a tunnel. She looked down. No sign of animal waste, which meant, hopefully, no bears. More rock, shiny and hard, stretched out before her beneath her feet. She took a few more tentative steps. Biscuit was right behind her. The tunnel curved to her right. The blackness ahead was thick, impenetrable. She turned and looked back toward the light.
The tunnel sloped downward slightly. Ten feet inside, the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees. Ten feet farther, it dropped some more. The darkness was cool and utterly silent. Charlie stopped. She was sure she’d never experienced this kind of complete silence, complete darkness, complete stillness. The only sound was Biscuit’s panting.
“If I keep going,” she said to the dog, “I’ll know what it’s like to be dead.”
Another ten feet and she would be so far around the curve that the entrance would disappear. The thought of being unable to see the light terrified Charlie. She didn’t want to go back, but like Sadie, she didn’t want to go forward.
Don’t be a sissy. It’s just a cave. The human race started out in places just like this.
More uneasy steps. Biscuit panting. The mouth was out of sight now, leaving Charlie wrapped in a cocoon of darkness. She thought about the batteries in the flashlight. Were they fresh? If they died… she wouldn’t think about that right now. Just a little farther. The grade beneath her feet steepened downward.
Another step. Another. The dog growled.
Charlie sensed something frightening. The
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