Ralph thought about that—the horror of it—and saw what he felt on the faces of the others.
“Ev was down to his last hundred feet of free-rope when he heard somethin he said sounded like a cherry-bomb a kid set off in a tawlit bowl with the lid shut. What musta happened is some goddam fool fired a pistol, hopin to lead the boys to the rescue party, and there was a cave-in. It wasn’t Roger done that, I’d bet a thousand dollars it wasn’t. Old Rog was a fool about many things, especially those dogs, but never fool enough to fire a gun in a cave, where the ricochet could go anywhere.”
“Or where the sound could bring down a piece of ceiling,” Alec said. “It must have been like firing a shotgun to start an avalanche up in the high country.”
“So they were crushed,” Ralph said.
Lovie sighed and resettled her cannula, which had come askew. “Nawp. Might’ve been better if they were. At least it woulda been quick. But people in the big cavern—the Chamber of Sound—could hear em callin for help, just like those lost lads. By then there were sixty or seventy men and women out there, eager to do whatever they could. My George had to be there—his brother and his nephews were among those trapped, after all—and finally I gave up on keepin him home. I went with him, to make sure he didn’t try to do some damn fool thing like tryin to pitch in. That would’ve killed him for sure.”
“And when this accident happened,” Ralph said, “Claude was in the reformatory?”
“Gatesville Trainin School is what I believe they called it, but yes, a reformatory’s what it was.”
Holly had produced a yellow legal pad from her carry-bag, and was bent over it, taking notes.
“By the time I got to the Hole with George, it was dark. The parkin lot’s a good size, but it was damn near full. They’d set up big lights on posts, and with all the trucks and people scurryin around, it was like they were makin a Hollywood movie. They went in through the Ahiga entrance carryin ten-cell flashlights, wearin hardhats and puffy coats like flak jackets. They followed the rope to the cave-in. A long way, some of it through standin water. The rockfall was pretty bad. Took em all that night and half the next morning to clear it enough to get past. By then, people in the big cave couldn’t hear the lost ones callin no more.”
“Your brother-in-law’s bunch wasn’t waiting for rescue on the other side, I take it,” Yune said.
“No, they were gone. Roger or one of the others might have thought he knew a way back to the big cave, or they might’ve been afraid more of the ceiling was gonna cave in. No way to tell. But they left a trail, at least to start with; marks on the walls and litter on the floor, coins and screws of paper. One man even left his bowling card from the Tippit Lanes. One more punch and he’d’ve got himself a free string. That was in the paper.”
“Like Hansel and Gretel, leaving breadcrumbs behind,” Alec mused.
“Then everything just stopped,” Lovie said. “Right in the middle of a gallery. The marks, the dropped coins, the balls of paper. Just stopped.”
Like the footprints in Bill Samuels’s story, Ralph thought.
“The second rescue party kept goin for awhile, callin and wavin their flashlights, but no one called back. The fella who wrote it up for the Austin paper interviewed a bunch of those guys from the second rescue party later on, and they all said the same thing—there were just too many paths to choose from, all of em goin down, some leadin to dead ends and some to chimneys as dark as wells. They weren’t supposed to holler for fear of starting another cave-in, but then one of them yelled anyway, and sure enough, a piece of the roof come down. That’s when they decided they better get the hell out.”
“Surely they didn’t abandon the search after one try,” Howie said.
“No, course not.” She fished another Coke out of the cooler, cracked it, and swallowed half at a go. “Not used to talkin s’much, and I’m parched.” She checked her oxygen bottle. “Almost out of this stuff, too, but there’s another one in the bathroom there, with the rest of my goddam medical supplies, if someone wants to fetch it.”
Alec Pelley took charge of this task, and Ralph was relieved when the woman didn’t attempt to light up as he swapped them out. Once the oxygen was flowing again, she resumed her story.
“There was a dozen search parties went in there over the years, right up until the ground-shaker in ’07. After that it was considered too dangerous. It was only a three or four on the Richter, but caves are fragile, you know. The Chamber of Sound stood up to it pretty well, although a bunch of the stalactites fell off the ceilin. Some of the other passages, though, collapsed. I know the one they called the Art Gallery did. Since the shaker, Marysville Hole has been closed. The main entrance is stopped up, and I believe Ahiga is, too.”
For a moment no one spoke. Ralph didn’t know about the others, but he was thinking of what it must have been like to die a slow death deep underground, in the dark. He didn’t want to think about it and couldn’t help it.
Lovie said, “You know what Roger said to me once? Couldn’t have been six months before he died. He said the Marysville Hole might go all the way down to hell. And that makes it a place where this outsider of yours would feel right at home, don’t you think?”
“Not a word about this when Claude comes back,” Holly said.
“Oh, he knows,” Lovie said. “Those were his people. He didn’t care for his cousins much—they were older and used to bullyrag him something awful—but they were still his people.”
Holly smiled, but not the radiant one; it didn’t touch her eyes. “I’m sure he does, but he doesn’t know we know. And that’s the way it has to stay.”
11
Lovie, now looking tired going on exhausted, said the kitchen was too small for seven people to eat in comfortably, so they’d have to take their meal out back, in what she called the gaze-bo. She told them (proudly) that Claude had built it for her himself, with a kit he got at the Home Depot.
“It might be a little hot at first, but a breeze usually sets in this time of day, and it’s screened against the bugs.”
Holly suggested that the old lady should take a lie-down, and let the company set up for supper outside.
“But you won’t know where anything is!”
“Don’t worry about that,” Holly said. “Finding things is what I do for a living, you know. And these gentlemen will help out, I’m sure.”
Lovie gave in and wheeled along to her bedroom, where they heard her grunting effortfully, followed by the squall of bedsprings.
Ralph stepped out on the front porch to call Jeannie, who answered on the first ring. “E.T. phone home,” she said cheerfully.
“Everything quiet there?”
“Except for the TV. Officers Ramage and Yates have been watching NASCAR. I only surmise bets were made, but know for sure they ate all the brownies.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, and Betsy Riggins came by to show off her new baby. I’d never say this to her, but he looks quite a bit like Winston Churchill.”
“Uh-huh. Listen, I think either Troy or Tom should stay the night.”