The Easy Part of Impossible - Sarah Tomp Page 0,32
the cave’s entrance, Ria suddenly felt hungry. Or full. Or maybe her stomach was feeling the dread that had snuck up on her remembering that panicky feeling of the tight tunnel.
She eyed Cotton. So much bigger than she was, in every way. She reminded herself: If he fit, so would she. Except logic didn’t always work for her.
“Let’s go.” She knew better than to prolong nerves. She needed to get in that tunnel and deal with it.
They headed in, with Ria in the middle following Leo, and Cotton bringing up the rear. Her makeshift helmet shone brighter, but at a different angle. Higher, and straighter, so the shadows of her peripheral vision felt darker.
She was aware of the rock walls, and the smell of damp, the sound of their breaths and footsteps, but her mind was set on reaching that tunnel. It probably wasn’t even that narrow. She’d freaked herself out with it.
Except, when they got there, it seemed even smaller than she remembered. It occurred to her they were inside the hill, heading downward, deeper underground. She could practically feel the weight of the ground above them.
“Is this the same tunnel?”
“Yes. There’s only been one way to go. The cave doesn’t split until we get in deeper.”
“Deeper” was such a creepy word.
“Do you want to lead?” asked Cotton.
“I don’t know where to go.”
“Forward. There’s only one way in the tunnel. If you’re in front, you won’t be closed in.”
“But if you go first, I’ll know you fit.”
“I fit.” He made it seem so reasonable. So matter-of-fact.
“What if I panic and can’t move?”
“I’ll drag you out.”
She laughed, mostly because she knew he was completely serious. “I can do it.”
It was awful. Again.
But, finally, counting her crawl-steps and breaths, she made it through. The boys didn’t pause to readjust or acknowledge the tunnel in any way. They hustled onward.
Her shoes didn’t have the right traction. She could barely keep up with Leo. She sensed Cotton behind her, close on her heels.
As she hurried around a rocky corner, she skidded, completely freefalling along the trail. Her tumbling training kicked in and she hugged herself so as not to break a wrist or arm when she hit the ground. Which she did, with a clatter and crash. Her helmet ricocheted off the walls on either side of her. Cotton tripped over her and landed in a heap at her feet.
Adrenaline and relief battled inside her. She burst out laughing. A few seconds later, Cotton did too, short and hiccuppy.
“What happened? What are you doing down there?”
“We fell. And we’re fine,” said Cotton. “You are fine, right, Ria? Leo meant to be concerned.”
“Yes.” She stood up. “I’m fine. But damn.”
“Then let’s keep moving.”
She readjusted her helmet and brushed off her gritty hands. She already felt a bruise forming along her left hip.
“What’s the hurry?”
“We have a limited amount of time,” said Leo.
“My parents’ rules,” added Cotton.
“If we use it all traveling, we don’t go as far. We’re hoping to explore new territory. There’s no point seeing the same part of the cave over and over.”
“It’s all so amazing. Every bit of it.” She ran her fingers along the wall.
“We’ve already mapped this part,” said Cotton.
Now that she knew their expectation, she wasn’t going to be the thing that slowed them down. She knew how to push. To ignore the scenery in favor of reaching the goal. She didn’t even sit when they stopped for a water break.
“Left today, right?” said Cotton.
Ria laughed.
“I don’t know,” said Leo. “Maybe it’s not a good idea to go into uncharted territory.”
“That’s why we’re here,” Cotton protested.
She wondered if he was still searching for Esther. “Don’t change your plans because I’m here. It’s all uncharted to me. I have no idea where we are or where we’ve been. It makes no difference.”
The trail led them downward, steep enough that she braced her forward movement with both hands pressed against the walls.
“Are you measuring this shift in elevation?” Cotton called to Leo. “Let me go in front of you, Ria.”
“I’ll go faster.”
“I don’t want to flatten you. I’ve got a lot more mass than you.”
She pressed herself against the wall and let Cotton pass. He stumbled down the hill, a clatter of movement, his light bumping and jostling against the walls. Alone, she allowed herself a moment to stand still. To listen to the rustles and echoes. To breathe in the smell of damp rock. With all the exertion she’d forgotten that the air was cool.