Page 40 of What Remains

“What?”

“Look, we know that people who get lost tend to walk in circles, right?”

“Yeah.” Flowers jerked his head in a nod. “So? We’re not walking in circles.”

“Hear me out. Let’s put ourselves in this kid’s place? If you were a panicky kid and you come to this fork…”

He watched Flowers play his flashlight over the two tunnels. “One’s straighter than the other. The right one’s kinda kinked. So, you’re saying he probably went into the tunnel where he could just bullet through without having to slow down or turn.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

“Well, we’re at the fork in the road,” Flowers said. “So, take it.”

“Sure.” He waved an arm. “Lead on, McDuff.”

“Naw, you got it backwards, Doc. Everyone says that. But the quote is ‘Layon, MacDuff.’ ”

“Oh.” He was impressed. “What’s that mean?”

“It’s what Macbeth says right before their big duel at the end. What Macbeth’s saying is, okay, MacDuff, you wanna fight, let’s fight. So, they do,” Flowers said and stepped into the lefthand tunnel. “And then Macduff turns Macbeth into shish kabob.”

After about thirty feet,the tunnel’s sides narrowed to a straw just wide enough for them to go single file. The roof also lowered. The only saving grace was the path wasn’t quite as steep on the downhill.

But, man, between this and then the uphill before the fork, climbing back is going to be a nightmare.Bent nearly double, gaze screwed to the slippery surface beneath his feet, John duckwalked along as quickly as he could through puddles. The air tasted of wet metal and as he scurried through the passage, drops of water splatted onto his head and back.How far back could they possibly be?On the heels of that thought, another:Maybe we took the wrong?—

“Unh!”The breath left his lungs in a rush as he slammed into Flowers and then they both clattered onto the stone floor. Flowers lost his grip on his flashlight which pinwheeled through the air for a short distance before banging against one side of the tunnel and coming down with a smallsplishin a puddle.

“Sorry!” The water was almost icy. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he struggled to his feet. “You okay? Why did you stop?”

“I’m fine, just take it easy, man.” Worming forward, Flowers retrieved his light then stayed in a crouch. “I thought I heard something.”

They both listened. For a few seconds, John heard nothing over a mosquito whine in his ears and then he caught a snippet of someone talking. The tone, high-pitched and shaky, sounded young. On its heels a moment later, he heard a basso rumble that he thought might be Driver followed a moment later by the unmistakable lilt of Roni’s voice.

Oh.His heart swelled with emotion. “Let’s go, come on, move, move!”

A few moments later, the tunnel widened, the ceiling soared away, and they trotted the rest of the way and into a space that reminded John much more of a true cave rather than the ones which had been carved by fighters who’d need a base of operations and a place to hide. The floor was studded with thick thumb-shaped stalagmites formed over the centuries by the steady drip of calcite-rich water onto the cavern’s floor. Above these spears of thinner, white stalactites hung from the ceiling. Some were khaki-colored, but others were white as snow and reminded John of the icicles which frilled the gutters and roof of Ken’s Wisconsin home after a hard freeze. The air was cold enough here for their breath to fog and from somewhere close, though, he caught the chuckle of water over stone. The whole place smelled wet. John also had the sense that the chamber was much larger, its true extent hidden by dense, inky darkness.

Driver was closest to the entrance. He turned, flipped his flashlight beam up to their faces and said, “Flowers, I thought I told you to get the kids and get out?—”

“Get that thing out of our faces,” John snarled, holding a hand up to shield his eyes. When Driver complied, he blinked against stars and said, “Flowers volunteered. Besides, Driver, you’re forgetting. You need a shooter in each vehicle. So, what’s the story here?” Across the cavern, he spotted Roni, Musa, and Shahida clustered together. “What’s going on?”

“I see the problem.” Flowers pointed his flashlight at the wall above the women. “There, on that ledge.”

Oh, no.Tucked into a fissure an easy twenty feet long cut into the wall and maybe as many feet off the floor was a young boy. As Flowers’s light hit him, the boy’s dark eyes sparkled. The kid looked terrified. “How he’d get there? What is he, stuck?”

“No.” As Shahida spoke, she knuckled away a tear trickling from a cheek. “Buri run. Scared of noise. Family killed by bomb.”

“PTSD.” Roni’s face was streaky with dust. “We were headed for the Humvees when he heard your flare…no, don’t,” she said when John opened his mouth to reply. “It’s no one’s fault. I was going to give him a little sedative to get him through the flight. I should’ve done it sooner because as soon as the flare came down, he grabbed a flashlight and bolted.”

“Slipped right past me. I almost had him.” Driver sighed, and for the first time, John saw how drawn and haggard the man was. “I was too slow,” Driver said. “We were lucky we heard him, but we can’t get him to come down and I’m too big to fit into the crack there.”

“But I’m not. I got this.” Pocketing his flashlight, Flowers jammed a toe into the rock face and stretched a hand. “Soon as I’m down, let’s beat feet before help gets here.”

There was that word, again. “You know, that’s what Mac said,” John began at the same time Driver blurted, “Are youserious?”

“As a heart attack, man,” Flowers said, without looking away from the rock face.

“Damn that Mac.” Cursing, Driver snatched a Harris from his belt, keyed the radio, got a burp of static.

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