Page 2 of Fallen Star

And in a job like mine, I take the fun where it can be had.

Still, our roll in the hay didn't erase the sharp edges of misogyny embedded in Trevor's DNA. So this plan isn't an easy sell.

Fortunately, I don't need his permission. He can join, or stay on his hands and knees and wait for me to discover the artifact and claim the credit. You want to bet he'll stay and wait?

Didn't think so.

I pull out two climbing picks and prepare for the crazy part. This is where it gets tricky, because I have very little room to maneuver, I don't know what's below us, and all manner of shit could hit the proverbial fan.

In one fluid movement, I slam the picks into the rock, launch myself out of the shaft I'd been crawling through, and spin around so I'm now facing a wall of stone as I hang from the picks for dear life.

"I'm going down," I tell Trevor, who's now watching me from the position I was just in. His eyes are wide, pupils slightly dilated, though that could be the headlamp shining directly into them. He's definitely never been on a dig like this. He fancied himself Indiana Jones. It didn't occur to him I would be the hero in this story.

Okay, so this next part isn't very exciting. Show don't tell. I know, I know. But seriously, do you really want to hear about how I pull out one pick, move it down an inch or two, ram it back into the stone, and keep doing that over and over as my muscles burn and sweat drips down my face and pools under my arms, and in just about every other crack of my body? Yeah, it's not glamorous. If they make a movie, it'll be a lot more exciting, I'm sure. Until then, let's skip to the good part.

By the way, I totes want the young Lara Croft actress to play me, okay? She's a total badass. Now that we've got that handled…

My foot finally lands on something solid. This is where shit gets real. "You're almost there," I tell Trevor, who looks like he needs some encouragement. He only has one PhD, so, you know how it goes.

I'm just kidding about that. Most PhDs I know can't do this. Wouldn't want to do this. No matter how many they've collected. This is crazy. I'm crazy. But you probably figured that out already.

And Trevor isn't so bad. He's a product of his own privilege for sure, but then who isn't?

The key is some degree of self-awareness. Being woke, as they say. Trevor is anything but woke.

With both feet finally on solid ground, I exhale gratefully, letting my legs take more of my body's weight as I ease up on my arms. But I don't let go of my picks.

Not yet, anyway.

Why, you ask?

Clearly you've never been in a situation where the ground fell out from under your feet and the only things that saved your life were the climbing picks you held onto. But I don't hold that against you.

Even my closest friends think I'm total craycray.

So I hold on as I let more weight drop onto the floor beneath me. Another critter crunches under my boot. I feel no pity or remorse for its demise.

I pull one pick out of the stone while keeping hold of the other one with my right hand. "So far so good," I tell Trevor, who hasn't dared venture this close to the ground yet. "I'm going to let go and see if it holds."

"You sure about that?" he asks.

"Sure as I'll ever be."

And so I pull my other pick out but stay close to the stone wall, ready to slam my picks back into the rock the moment I feel the earth beneath me shift.

It doesn't. Hooray for me.

Carefully, I turn around to face the cavern.

I never know what to expect. Every discovery is different. Will this have monsters? Treasure? Dust bunnies? A little bit of each? It's anyone's guess.

This one is… empty.

Empty?

I squint, searching more carefully.

Yup. Empty.

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