Page 65 of Wandering Wild

The hours pass quickly as we press on toward our extraction point, both of us aware of the time ticking down, though we’re still careful to stop regularly to rest our tired legs and munch on whatever we can forage to keep up our strength.

“As grateful as I am that they’ve kept us alive, I never want to see another lilly pilly in my life,” Charlie declares, glaring at a bush full of pink berries as if they’ve personally offended her.

Eventually, the trees begin to thin and the ground turns more gravelly and less muddy, before the foliage gives way to a rising rock wall stretching out before us.

“Here we go,” Charlie says with a resigned exhale.

“Hawke did say it’s a dry canyon,” I remind her. “And he promised no crawling this time.”

“Hawke also said the river yesterday would be ‘small’ and the waterfall ‘narrow,’” Charlie returns, scowling at the sandstone structure before us, “so forgive me if I have trust issues toward him now.”

I turn away to hide my grin, even though I wholeheartedly agree with her.

We have to walk for some time before our map leads us to a crack in the rock large enough to step through, but then we both sigh with relief upon discovering Hawke was right about it being a quick-draining canyon—the ground is damp but nothing worse than that. I’m a little concerned about us getting lost when I see how high the sandstone walls rise above us, creating an open-roofed labyrinth, but the deeper we move into the canyon, there’s only one obvious path to take. It almost seemstooeasy, considering the other tasks Hawke made us suffer through.

“I don’t like it,” Charlie murmurs suspiciously as we wind our way through the yellow-hued stone. “There’s a distinct lack of danger. Are you sure this is the correct route?”

“You’re the one holding the map,” I point out, though I’m also on edge. “And to be fair, there was no real danger with the first slot canyon Hawke made us go through—aside from falling rocks and flash floods and snakes and all the rest.”

“Excuse me, but did you somehow forget how webothgot stuck in that crawl space?” Charlie states incredulously. “How was that not ‘real danger’?”

“Come to think of it, I do remember risking my life to come back for you.” I send her a wide smile. “You’re still welcome for that.”

Charlie scoffs. “Risking your life? Hardly. And if we’re keeping score, I think there’s a firm winner on the scale of who’s been saving whom the most.”

“‘Whom’?” I chuckle. “What are we, the grammar police?”

She opens her mouth to respond, then snaps it shut, before narrowing her eyes and saying, “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work.”

I look at her innocently as we turn around another bend, moving deeper into the canyon. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” Charlie says, kicking a rock out of her way. “But the joke’s on you, becauseclearlythere’s some kind of Indiana Jones–style mortal peril coming up, and when it appears?—”

We both come to an abrupt halt at the sight before us.

Charlie groans. “Ihateit when I’m right.”

In this case, I hate it when she’s right, too. Because it looks like we’ve reached a dead end, the sandstone rising up above us—and that would be okay, if it were true. But there’s a narrow opening at the base of the rock near our feet, a swift descent into a hollowed-out tunnel, belatedly reminding me that Hawke said this was an old mining route. What hedidn’tsay was how all the rain might have collected in the tunnel, siphoning down the canyon walls to fill the dark, narrow space with water.

“Hard pass,” Charlie says, her voice sounding strained. There’s a rustle of paper as she pulls the map from her pocket, followed by a quiet curse that tells me what I already know: there’s no other way around the canyon if we want to reach the extraction point on time.

I crouch down to get a closer look at where the ground drops away, wondering how deep and long the tunnel is. There’s a small gap between the surface of the water and its jagged, rocky ceiling, offering a reasonable breathing space, but I can’t tell if it continues the whole way through, since the canyon’s limited light only allows me to see a few feet ahead before everything is swallowed by darkness.

I’m not ashamed to admit how much I don’t want to swim through an underground tunnel of indeterminate length and depth, with limited room to keep our heads above water, all while being unable to see anything. But then I catch sight of Charlie’s watch and remember that it has a built-in light. Mine, too. They’re not bright, but since our only other option is to make a torch and somehow keep it dry—while also avoiding smoke inhalation in the restricted breathing space—then I can accept that weak light is better than no light.

“That’s not your best argument,” Charlie says warily as I press the button on my watch to show her the blueish glow it creates. “You can’t seriously be considering this.”

It’s a statement, not a question, but I still reply, “We have less than four hours until the helicopter arrives, and the map doesn’t offer any alternative routes. I don’t see another choice.”

“But it’s—it’s—” Charlie gives up mid-sentence and glances fearfully at the black water, holding her elbows. Finally, she says, her voice grumbling but only to hide how tremulous it is, “We only just got our clothes dry.”

I can’t believe I have to fight a laugh right now. But Idofight it, since I can see the terror on her face. I step closer and take her hands in mine. “We’ll be quick, in and out,” I say, having no idea if that’s true, but needing to believe it as much as she does. “It’ll be like we’re walking, just... wet.”

She gapes at me. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said—and you’ve said a lot of ridiculous things.” She shakes her head disbelievingly. “Wet walking? Are you kidding me with that?” Tugging one hand free, she jabs a finger toward the submerged tunnel. “We have toswimthrough acanyon, Zander! Swim! Canyon! Dark! Deep!” She leans into me, her hysteria clear. “Did I mentiondarkanddeep?”

“There was heavy emphasis on both, yes,” I reply mildly, having to repress my laughter all over again, and wondering if she knows how adorable she is. “But just to say, it might not be deep. We won’t know until we get in it.”

“It’s deep,” she says with grim certainty. “Of courseit’s deep. It’d be too simple if it wasn’t.”

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