Belly Of The Earth

No one believed me.

That was their first mistake.

“Price the weather will be fine. I’m not going to say it again.”

My boot sticks between two rocks swaying to the side steadying my wavering body on the wall of sandy dirt. My feet ached the backpack hip strap digging into my sides.

Zoning in on a plant with succulent tear drop shaped leaves. “Oh look, it’s a portulaca olercea.” Stopping to pick one with my foot stuck, “the leaves, stems, flowers, and seeds are edible.”

Jenny and Ryan trudge by.

John grumbles. “She’s not even listening.”

Against all best instincts I agreed to a hiking trip with my older sister, her boyfriends, and a random guy, roommate I believe.

The trees rivaled any office buildings in New York. Tall. Strong. Health-smoothie green. Rocks hardened into mud created a path that winded upward switching up and down. Views of the deep canyon echoed our voices down to the content creek.

“We're almost there,” John directs from the front of the group.

I stop, mostly to catch my breath to awe at the sky. Way way beyond what I saw them. The forty percent change of thunderstorms. “When will we go back?”

Under her breath Jenny warns. “Shh.”

“Sacred?” Ryan taunts taking the opportunity for a water break as Jenny shoves past.

I don’t respond. Maybe I was. Our childhood was filled with civilized camping. The kind you live in tents, eat hot dogs and coated in bug spray. The toilet facilities thirty feet away.

Jenny always craved for more.

No smores and campsite spooky stories.

No bathrooms.

No tents.

Just sleeping bags, grit, and daring.

“Hurry up!” John commands, scaring a ground rodent back into its hole.

Ryan hisses, “Come on, chicken.”

We round the corner the sun west of us. Using the trick my dad taught me to be lining up my fingers with the sun and horizon.

His calm leading voice held my shoulders. “Like this. Each finger represents fifteen minutes.”

We had about two hours before dark.

A brisk wind rustled the trees. A red-headed woodpecker drilled a hole as we descended into a green plain style valley.

“We camp here,” John unclips his hip buckle letting his pack free fall to the ground.

“You’ll scare the animals,” bending my knees to rest against a lop then unclip my buckle.

Ryan and Jenny follow John.

Loosening my laces my feet cried out, we’re free! “Jenny, my toe hurts.”

She glanced at me while rubbing John's shoulders giving me an okay-not-my-problem expression.

Fishing the duct tape from my pack Ryan scoffs. “Duck tape? Really?”

“It’s for emergencies.”

My sister chimes, "everything you bring is for emergencies.”

“That’s why her pack is so heavy,” John mutters. Still miffed he had to lay my bag into his truck that’s level to my shoulders.

Prepping my couscous salad in silence while they all boil water to eat unflavored mush.

When I sit a little further away. “Oh that’s a Hypochoeris radicta, commonly known as cat’s ear.” Picking the stem, “I didn’t know these grew in this region.”

Ryan grunted to his feet, dishes in hand. “Did you have to bring the encyclopedia of plants?”

Jenny shrugged.

John poured over his maps spoke. “Tomorrow we head out this way. Especially if we want to-” eyes flickering to Jenny then me.

She shook her head in some agreement.

“What?”

“Nothing.” All in unison.

John looks back to his maps. “Be up at five.”

I’m up at five o’clock. No one else is. The night’s previous fire is a mix of charred wood, orange embers, and gray ash, blended with the smell of morning grass.

Jenny’s unwashed dishes spikes though those are a bear hazard.

For the next five minutes I pretend I’m in a high school one woman band.

Ryan stumbles first out of his tent shirtless. Meanwhile, John and Jenny untangle their limbs from sleeping under the stars.

“We’re up!” Ryan yelps to the sky.

“John said be up at five. Plus, Jenny, dad always told us to wash our dishes.”

John wordlessly takes the dishes to the creek. Ryan starts a new fire and Jenny wraps herself in a sleeping bag and combs her hair.

Collectively ignoring me until we halt at an angry stream.

“This isn’t on the map.” John pulls Ryan to the side. A small gust of wind breaks a branch beside us.

“It's because of the recent rain,” Jenny dismissed.

Ryan shook his head.

“Yeah,” stepping closer to the stream-shore. “Oh look it’s a-”

Not able to finish my sentence from slipping down the bank. Before my feet can touch the water I’m yanks to a halt, my chest buckle wedging under my throat. “Ow.”

Jenny scolds, wiping off mud from her hands. “You need to be careful.”

“I wanted to pick it.”

Ryan scoffs. “You wanted death by drowning.”

Jenny sticks a finger at me. “You're clumsy. You know that.”

“Nobody answered my question why she was invited." Ryan shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

John statically flips open his plastic sealed maps like a newspaper. “We need to cross this.”

“Cross this! It’s a monster.”

Ryan loudly whispers. “Why don’t we do the other thing?”

“Because I didn't tell my dad about the other thing. This wasn’t the plan.”

“You didn’t tell him last time. Nothing happened.”

“Okay,” John steps in. But I stopped him, “What other plan?”

John’s head snaps to Jenny. “You tell her.”

“No you.”

“She’s your sister.”

“So?”

“We’re going caving,” Ryan states.

My worst nightmare.

Cold. Wet. Dark.

“But dad doesn’t know.”

“It gets better,” Ryan adds. “Someone forgot the satellite phones in the car.”

“Jenny! Dad always said, Always, tell someone where we go. It’s rule number uno,” holding an index finger up for emphasis.

She rolls her eyes. “So I’ve heard.

I cross my arms. “We can’t go.”

John huffs through his nose. “I told you this wasn’t a good idea.”

“If you had two nagging parents maybe you’d understand.”

A gasp fills my lungs but never escapes. I press it low deep down in my chest to forget it.

Ryan kicks some loose dirt. “Are we going or not?”

“We go,” John snaps on his pack. “Price, if you don’t want to come. Go back.”

Alone? In the woods? No way. I get in step behind Ryan.

At first the path is wide for two, later it narrows to one. Out of nerves or angst I check my watch and the darkening silky. The original plan dad knew about was to camp hike camp hike back then go home.

The group halts at an opening from the forest into a field. John and Jenny are staring into a rock with an opening at the base the size of a large toilet bowel. At first glance it’s a normal rock with moss covering the surface.

“Price,” John addresses, pulling out equipment from his larger pack. “This is your last chance, come, or wait outside.”

My eyes flick to my sister who is suddenly occupied with untangling a harness.

My chest constricts. Being in the forest alone is almost as bad as being in the dark. My eyes burn inhaling to hold back tears, “I’ll go.”

Jenny's eyes snap to me. A flicker of pride shines through, shoving Ryan. “See? She is brave.”

“We’ll see,” John mutters. He comes over instructing me to step through the harness. Jerking on a few buckles here and there to tighten and test their security. He goes back over to his bag, stuffing in all the extra ropes, clips, and food. Ryan is ready waiting.

“Jenny goes first.”

Ryan steps forward, “no way.”

John’s chest puffs outward. “Yes way. She found it. She goes first. and names it.”

Jenny smirks, stepping in front of the hole glances at me and slips inside.

Then she’s gone. John goes next. I’m last.

The cold hits me like a wave. The stillness is punctual besides a rhythmic drip of water on a rock face.

“We crawl through here,” Jenny crumbles to her fours. Her harness making clanking noises against the solid surfaces.

“I can’t,” when it’s my turn.

Ryan’s foot twitches, “You're smaller than all of us.”

I breathe. Pressing my torso into the hole titles downward like a slide. “We should tell dad.”

Jenny's voice echos from upfront. “Too late.”

By the end of the slide I’m on my belly t-shirt damp from cold slick water and sweat.

We entered a large dome shaped cavern. Roots dangle from the ceiling. Our headlamps our only source of light.

“This way,” Jenny leads.

My shoe lace is undone, which I trip on and knock into Ryan who hisses. “Watch it.”

I stop to tie it and when I look up no one is there. “Umm…guys?”

I hear Ryan’s voice echo from a hole. “This way plant girl.”

At some point I lose track of directions. John, Jenny, and Ryan highlight sealed maps. All their shoulders are relaxed, exchanging a grin from time to time as if minutes away from finding pirates treasure.

We stop for lunch but I’m not hungry. Instead I watch the little stream of water that runs beside us.

Ryan gulps down his water. Pausing, “we should call this the amphitheater.”

“No,” Jenny said. “That’s typical.”

“I actually kind of like it,” John comments unwrapping a candy bar.

“No. No, no and no.”

“It fits though. Look at the high ceiling, the shape,” tilting his head up in amazement at being in the belly of the earth.

Jenny scoffs. “Whose side are you on?”

“I’m neutral.”

“I’m your girlfriend.”

“He’s my roommate.”

“I’m the plant encyclopedia," I add all eyes averting to me.

Oops.

Ryan rips open another granola bar. I take my bag. He shrugs.

I continue to pack my things. Ryan’s headlamp is beside me so I get up to give it to him, “here,” but the toe of my boot gets acute in my wide pant legs. In my fall the headlamp sails through the air in a glorious arch and into the stream. “I’m so sorry,” dropping to my knees to catch it.

Ryan glared. “That costs a thousand dollars.”

Meanwhile I’m on my knees trying to fish it out. Collapsing to my knees, hands in my lap. “It’s gone.”

“Of course,” Jenny mutters.

I remember, “I brought a spare.” Trumiphantly, “here.”

No one says thank you.

Eyes on my hip buckle tightening then the stream. “Umm guys…is it just me or is the stream higher?”

“Just you,” Ryan says, not even looking in my direction, but at the stream. His face pales. He stays locked in place. “This is bad,” he whispers. “This is really, really bad.”

John grasps his arm. “Ryan.”

A scrap followed by a scream.

John freezes. Staring at the hole by his feet. “Jenny! Jenny! Are you alright?”

Ryan’s eyes enlarge. “I can’t do this. I’m not going to die here.”

From the hole Jenny groans. “My ankle.”

John snaps, “Ryan.” Taking rope from his pack. “We need you. I need you.”

Ryan’s chest heaves up and down. “I’m not brave. This has never happened.”

His voice cracks. “I’m not brave,” his gaze dropped to the floor. “The water is rising.”

Jenny stops moaning. John pauses for the first time appearing like he doesn’t know how to lead. And I’m just a witness to them falling apart.

“I’m leaving,” Ryan turns and runs, boots breaking water with splashing, headlamp strobe tittering to his wild movements. He disappears the way we came.

“Ryan,” John calls. Cursing under his breath. “Ryan! Ryan!”

But the only response is the taunting echo of his voice bouncing back at us.

“My ankle,” Jenny cries.

And John goes back to tying and securing the rope like nothing ever happened. Like John was never there. And the water wasn’t rising.

***

Through the next tube and dome we struggle to hoist Jenny between our two bodies. She tries to help when she can. An hour later our progress is minimal but the sound of rushing water increases.

“Price.”

“Yes.”

“You have to go and get help.”

“John,” I gasp.

“Price please. Please. I’m hurt. I’m sorry,” Jenny crumbles into sobs. “I’m so sorry. If I knew…”

“Shh. Jenny. Please don’t cry.”

I stare at our entry, knee deep in water. “I-”

Calmly John addresses. “You can.”

“But…”

“Channel your inner Claire Dearing.”

My mind clutches. “Who?”

“Clare…from Jurassic world.”

“Oh.”

John rubs his temples and Jenny answers. “She hasn’t seen it.”

“Come on. That one of the greatest films-”

“John.”

The frigid water sloshes against the rock like a slow song before a disaster. My fingers tremble around the straps of my pack. “I can’t do this,” in a whisper.

John kneels beside Jenny, steady but drained. “Price…you’re the only one who can move fast.”

“We’ll teach you-”

Jenny cuts him off. “Please. Please hurry.”

I try to avoid glancing down at her ankle. The outline is larger and purple. She’s gripping onto John’s shirt like it holds life. But my big sister brought me here. They all ignored my worries about the rain and not telling dad.

No one believed me.

That was their first mistake.

Exhaling, “okay. I’ll, I’ll, go.”

John nods once tucking Jenny’s head into his shoulder. “Follow the stream back. You’ll end up right back at the slide. Keep left. And whatever you do. Don’t stop.”

Muffled into John’s shoulder Jenny adds quietly. “Don’t die.”

My throat tightens at the bluntness, but it is true. We could all drown.

I turn. The water soaking the sole of my boots. The once ankle deep stream has morphed into a furious devouring creature. Wading in my teeth chatter from nerves. The icy fluid pierced my skin.

The cave closes in. My headlamp flickers. “Not now,” trying to recall if I brought extra batteries.

Crawling through the first tunnel, knees scraping rocks. My pack snaps. One of the straps breaks. I tie it back securely with a safety pin. The water grows louder, more steady like music in the store.

“Channel your inner Claire Dearing,” I mutter. “I don’t even know who that is.”

A laugh bubbles from deep down. Frantic, maybe.

But I keep going.

Then the slide appears. I gather whatever ramshackle of determination I have left. If I don’t come back up neither will John and Jenny. Jenny’s scream replays and for a second I think the cave is haunting me.

I sit. And push. Cold water smacks me with insults. I hold my breath. Everything’s dark. My hands grope the smooth surfaces for something. Anything.

Until I hold unto a root. Clinging with all my life, coughing though gasps for hair with hair plastered to my face. My headlamp glows, now around my neck. The slide ends, and I stand in hip deep water.

It’s rising.

“Okay,” smoothing my hair down. Readjusting my lamp. “Keep going.”

The cave is darker. The ceiling, lower. The air, thinner. Maybe it is, or maybe it’s in my head.

My headlamp shakes as I shift on my hands and knees down the tube. Chest to freezing stone. Pack scraping the ceiling. Panic restraints my throat.

“I’m gonna die.” I pant, “oh, I’m gonna die. I haven’t even grown a tomato vine.”

Pressing my eyes shut. I exhale. Inhale. I push.

Into the next opening. It's submerged in water. The cave moans, a drip of water to a stream. And a stream to a river.

I hate water in my ears. But Jenny is hurt and in pain. John is trying to be strong for both of us. I can’t, I won’t leave them. “Price,” pep talking to myself. “You study plants. Not drowning. Focus.”

Tying an extra knot in my broken strap. Moving the headlamp to my neck I dive into a world of murky aqua. My hands blindly search. The smooth surface of my hands runs over a plant-like texture. Moss. The exit. I’m going to live. My head breaks the surface with a huge gulp of air.

Real air. And rain.

It’s pouring. The forty percent chance pulled through. Dragging myself onto the grass, gasping, trembling, and crying. I scramble to my legs and survey the forest line. Tormented by winds, damp, and oddly serene.

I take off. Not sure where. Branches whip against my arms and face creating scratches. Blood now mixes with water. Thunder yells and lightning breaks the gloomy sky. Not a tail sign in sight.

Then there it is. A ranger truck.

I scream banging on the window. “Help! Please!”

Two rangers step out. Already speaking into radios.

“People are in the cave!” I wheezed. “My sister,” sinking to my knees, “she’s hurt.”

One repeats my words into a radio. The other fetches a blanket over my shoulders. He sits beside me, now also wet, “you did the right thing coming for help.”

“No one believed me,” I croak. “We could’ve-”

He squeezes my shoulder. “Shh. It’s alright. We believe you.”

And for the first time all this trip, I feel it in my soul.

I’m not alone.