The Other Side of Nowhere Page 13

  The three of us huddled together on top of the rock, shivering in spite of the still-hot sun overhead. I could see now that there was an entrance of sorts where the stream was being channelled. It looked like a small black hole, not much bigger than a manhole in a road. A leaf caught in the rush of water around the rocks spun wildly as it was swept into the hole, like a ship vanishing over the edge of the world in a cartoon. I groaned inwardly at the thought of going in there.

  To the left of the hole was a rock ledge, just a little out of the water. Nick stepped across a string of smaller rocks and lifted himself up onto the ledge. Then, without waiting for us to follow, he began to edge forward headfirst on hands and knees along it.

  George went next, with me close behind. Now I was on the ledge I could see that, rather than disappearing into a hole, the water was flowing along a channel inside the rock and the ledge we were on sloped down parallel to the stream, before it too fell away at the same point the water did. It was like a waterfall flowing inside the cliff.

  Nick shuffled backwards and squeezed in next to George and me. For a moment we were all silent, just squinting into the sun at the edge of the ledge to where the water was disappearing. I was sure we were all thinking the same thing: this watery void is our way in … our entrance into the cliff.

  ‘So, what do we think?’ Nick asked.

  Was I imagining things, or did he not sound quite so sure of himself now that he’d seen the entrance up close?

  ‘What do I think?’ said George, rubbing at the goose-bumps on her arm. ‘Let me see, if it wasn’t for my fear of heights and the dark and ridiculously small spaces, I’d pretty much be fine with all this.’ She laughed nervously.

  Nick turned to me, ‘Johnno, how about you? You don’t look so good.’

  ‘I’m good,’ I said, trying to sound casual. I half expected my nose to start growing.

  It had dawned on me that the others were feeling exactly as I was. We all knew this was a totally crazy idea. But if one of us folded now, we all would. And all of a sudden, I knew I couldn’t let that happen.

  ‘Let’s get on with it,’ I said.

  Nick grinned and then got busy organising himself. He pulled out all the remaining rope in the backpack. There were three coils left. Nick untied the rope he had around his waist and gave it a good tug to test that it was still tied firmly to the tree across the stream. He then tied the remaining coils end to end and counted out the total length by pulling the rope tight across his chest in approximate metre lengths. Finally he dropped the last length onto the neat figure-eight pile at his feet.

  ‘Call it fifty-two metres,’ he said.

  ‘Is that enough?’ George asked.

  Nick frowned. ‘Hard to say. Can’t be more than an eighty-metre drop and we have to be less than a hundred metres inland, so all up it’s not that far that we have to go. If it’s a steady slope all the way to the bottom we’ll be fine, but if it’s more of a straight drop –’

  ‘… then we’re screwed,’ said George, finishing his sentence.

  ‘Pretty much.’

  Strangely, I found this blunt honesty more comforting than if he’d said “she’ll be right”. At least he was kind of acknowledging this whole thing was insane.

  Nick pulled out the fishing line from the backpack, then bit off a length of it. He grabbed the torch and threaded the line through a small eyelet on the end of the torch and tied the other end around a belt-loop on his shorts. Hitching the backpack onto his shoulders, Nick gave us a wry smile and then led the way. He crawled towards the edge of the ledge, where the water dropped away into blackness through a hole in the rock.

  ‘Look,’ he said, pointing the torch through the hole.

  He went to the edge of the ledge and dropped the long length of rope down the hole.

  When the rope was fully out Nick turned around on his stomach, and lowered himself into the hole feet first. George and I grabbed the slack rope. Nick gripped the rope firmly in both hands and leant backwards.

  ‘Hold on to it,’ he said, his voice almost lost in the sound of falling water reverberating around him. ‘I’ll give two good tugs when I get down.’

  The rope pulled tight against my hands and I stood watching him disappear into the hole, noticing how he made sure his feet had a firm hold before stepping again.

  ‘It’s slippery … take your time,’ he mumbled, as much to himself as us.

  In a few minutes he was gone. George and I stood, our hands touching on the rope.

  Our only contact with Nick was through the tug on the rope each time he lowered himself another step. As long as it continued to twitch against our fingers we knew he was okay. But still my mind was racing. What if he falls? Or runs out of rope? What if his shoulder gives out on him? If he gets stuck or hurt we’ll have to go to him. But how? And what if we can’t get back up?

  Then I felt the rope twitch in my palm – twice.

  ‘Hey,’ I cried out in relief. ‘Did you feel that?’

  ‘Yes,’ squealed George excitedly. ‘Go, Nick!’

  He’d done it. He’d made it down, or at least part of the way down. And if he could, then so could we. We can do this, I told myself. I can do this.

  ‘Okay George, you’re up. Just lean back and go slow. One step at a time.’

  She moved into position and the rope pulled taut in my hands as she leant back and took up the slack.

  ‘Oh god,’ she stammered. ‘Johnno, I can’t do this!’

  ‘You can. I promise.’

  ‘No. I can’t.’ She looked terrified.

  ‘Yes you can, George,’ I told her, firmer this time. ‘You have to.’

  ‘Oh god, oh god, Johnno! Please don’t let me fall.’

  ‘Of course, I won’t. Just take it slow.’ I gripped the rope with both hands as she began to lower herself into the hole.

  The rope sat in the palm of my hand, twitching with each step she took, and I started to count the seconds between each time it would pull. The time grew longer the lower she went. She must be getting tired. Still, as long as the rope stayed tight and kept up its jerky rhythm I knew she was okay.

  Without George next to me I suddenly felt very cold. My teeth started to chatter in time with the thumping in my chest and my fingers were so numb there didn’t seem to be any strength in my grip on the rope. I stared at the hole and began to worry that when my turn came to climb down I wouldn’t be able to feel anything and that the rope would slip from my grasp the moment I stepped over the edge. And then I realised. Once I was in that hole there would be no way to climb back out. That thought was still lingering when the rope went slack. Then I felt two firm tugs.

  It was my turn. Despite every bone in my body screaming in protest, I stood and tipped myself backwards until my toes were the only things touching the rock ledge. Then I leant back, shut my eyes and let the rope take my weight.

  Shuffle, step, breathe, find a toehold, shuffle, step. Breathe, don’t forget to breathe. I tried to ignore my hands aching against the rope, and the burning in my shoulders and arms. I concentrated on my feet, just finding a way down, one small step at a time. I opened my eyes and at first could see nothing, but then I saw the torchlight from below reflecting off the rock around me, and my surroundings began to emerge from the black gloom.

  Soon I could see the space as it really was, and forgot to be terrified. It was amazing. I was dangling like a spider on a thread inside a cavern as big as a cathedral. I could make out bulbous knobs like giant cauliflowers and towering columns as thick as trees mixed with delicate needles and spines. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

  ‘You okay?’ said a beaming George as I jolted down the final length of rope. Nick guided me down to the ground.

  ‘Sure … Wow,’ I stopped to stretch out my shoulders. ‘This place is awesome.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’ George said, giggling. ‘It’s like we’ve found Aladdin’s cave or something.’

  I grabbed the torch from Nick and
shone it around. Just off to our right, water splashed noisily into a pool, then seemed to flow away through a jumble of rocks and larger boulders.

  Nick was untying our final length of rope, which was trailing at our feet on the floor of the cave. ‘Looks like we’ve hit a flat spot, but we might need some rope later on.’

  ‘How much have we got left?’ I asked looking at the small coil of rope in Nick’s hand.

  ‘Not much. Maybe twenty metres or so.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a lot,’ said George in a worried voice.

  ‘Well if it stays this flat we won’t need any of it,’ Nick replied matter-of-factly.

  ‘You think we’re near the bottom?’ I asked hopefully.

  Again Nick just shrugged. ‘Hard to say, but I reckon more like halfway.’

  If he saw my disappointment, he didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he just grabbed the torch and headed off, following the watercourse. He kept the torch pointing just ahead of his feet so we could see where he was stepping. Everything else was dark, so for the most part we had no way of telling if we were in a cavern the size of a football stadium or a tunnel as narrow as a pipe. It was getting colder but I didn’t care. All that mattered was that we kept moving. It also became quieter the further we moved away from the falling water and for a time the only sound was the gentle gurgling of the stream trickling over rocks. Then gradually the sound of water rushing began to grow louder again.

  Nick raised his hand and brought us to a stop. ‘Might be another drop up ahead,’ he said, getting down onto his hands and knees. ‘Stick close.’

  On all fours, we crawled forward cautiously until we came upon another ledge. In the torchlight we could make out a sheer drop to a small rock pool that the water was spilling into. To the side of the pool was a narrow ledge that we figured we could get to. It wasn’t as big as the drop we had already scaled down, but it was too far to jump.

  Nick flashed the torch around, looking for somewhere to secure the last coil of rope. The light settled on a small rock formation behind us that resembled a giant toadstool. It was about as thick as my leg and when I gave it a good kick, it felt pretty solid.

  ‘Probably only been here for a zillion years,’ Nick said, passing me the rope.

  I tied it off with a solid knot and tugged as hard as I could to test that it wouldn’t budge. Nick flung the other end over the edge. When it stopped swinging it was still hanging a couple of metres off from the ledge next to the rock pool.

  ‘Have to do, I guess,’ Nick said. ‘George, you go first this time. We’ll hang onto you up here.’

  He passed her the torch to tie around her waist and as she took up the slack and stepped over the edge Nick and I shouldered the full load of her weight. Nick leant in close and whispered in my ear, ‘Wouldn’t have thought she’d be such a load.’

  It only took her a few minutes to shimmy down and when she dropped off the rope went slack. I crawled forward to the edge and looked down. George waved the torch from side to side and her voice floated softly up from below. ‘I’m good. Bit wet, but good.’

  ‘Okay, Nick. You next,’ I ordered.

  I thought he might have argued with me but without a word he grabbed the rope and stepped over the edge. Nick went down so quickly I barely had a chance to hold onto the rope to feel for the two tugs that let me know it was my turn again. It was only a short climb and I could see the water below pooling and flowing slowly away. Perhaps this is the bottom, I thought hopefully and, wrapping my legs around the rope, I started to slide down.

  As soon as I pushed off I knew something was wrong. A shudder in the rope made me stop and look up. I froze, hoping it was nothing, sliding slowly to halfway down the rope.

  Then it shuddered again, and I heard an almighty crack above me. The rope went slack in my hands and I had the weird, momentary sensation of being suspended in mid-air until, smack, I hit the ground in a shower of rubble.

  I lay there trying to breathe, but it was as if there was no air in me at all. Just a crushing weight, like an elephant was sitting on me. I had to get oxygen. Slowly, painfully, some air found its way into my lungs and at last I managed to lift myself up from the rock-strewn earth.

  ‘Johnno, are you all right?’ came George’s frantic voice in the darkness. ‘Where’s the torch?’

  ‘You had it,’ said Nick.

  Moments later a shaft of light appeared, lighting up the cloud of dust that hung in the air all around us.

  Nick was shaking debris from his hair.

  George swung the torch towards me, and I squinted as the light flashed in my eyes. ‘Johnno, you’re bleeding!’

  ‘I’m okay, I think …’ I said breathlessly. I put my hand to my temple and felt a sticky ooze trickling down.

  Nick came over, picking his way through the litter of rocks on the ledge to find the rope that had dropped down in the rockfall. ‘You might want to lay off the doughnuts, fat guts!’ he said with a grin as he coiled the rope on his arm.

  ‘You might want to pick a better rock,’ I snapped back, aching all over and feeling seriously pissed off. I definitely wasn’t in the mood for one of his wind-ups.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘So now what?’ I said shortly. It was more an accusation than a question.

  Nick glared back at me, his eyes narrowing. ‘Now what? We keep going and find a way out. What else?’

  ‘And what if there is no way out?’ I said, suddenly losing confidence in this crazy mission.

  ‘There will be …’ He answered, sounding vague.

  ‘How do you know? You don’t know that.’

  Nick turned on me, stepping closer and throwing his hands in the air in mock surrender. ‘Jeez, Johnno … What do you think we should do? Sit and have a good cry?’

  ‘I’m not crying,’ I snapped.

  Then, before either of us could say anything further, George stepped between us. ‘Cut it out, both of you. As if we have any choice here. We need to keep going.’ Without waiting for an answer, she brushed past and started along the narrow path beside the stream.

  Nick stood firm for a moment, his eyes challenging me in the disappearing torchlight. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t think of anything sharp enough or ugly enough to say. When it was obvious I had nothing, he picked up the rope that lay at his feet, stuffed it into the backpack and turned to follow George. As the torchlight faded and the dark closed in again it was all I could do not to scream.

  At first, the change was so subtle we didn’t notice it. George flashed the torch around every now and then towards the stream or up the cave wall to catch the curve of the ceiling above our heads. But other than that, the torchlight illuminated the path for a couple of metres ahead and that’s all we could see. It was like walking in a vacuum. I didn’t even realise I needed to start stooping until George slowed so suddenly that Nick ran into the back of her. When she shone the light above our heads I saw that the rock ceiling was right above me.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Nick, impatiently.

  But George didn’t answer. She just shone the torch in front of us to where the path should have been. But instead, the ceiling pitched sharply downward to the floor a few metres ahead. The light bounced back off a solid wall of rock. The water that had been flowing along the stream next to us now lay motionless in a large, stagnant pool.

  We had come to a complete dead-end.

  Nick yelled in frustration and kicked at a small rock at his feet, sending it skidding into the pool. George reached out to touch the wall, pushing it gently as if testing whether it was as real and immovable as it looked. Feeling light-headed, I slumped to the ground against the cold rock.

  When Nick had sent a dozen or so rock missiles into the water he squatted next to me, kneading his fingers into his temples. I wanted to blame him so much. For walking off and running into Zaffar and Baldy, for bringing us into the cave, for Matt getting caught – for everything that had happened since we’d left Shell Harbour.


  Suddenly Nick turned and looked at me. ‘You know your problem, Johnno?’

  ‘My problem?’ I gasped, totally taken aback.

  ‘You see, you’ve got me on some kind of pedestal. And now you’re all disappointed because things aren’t working out. And you can’t figure out how this guy on the pedestal can be such a stuff-up. Well, here’s the newsflash. This is me, Johnno. The real me. So get used to it.’

  ‘For god’s sake, Nick, will you shut up!’ snapped George, before I had a chance to say anything. ‘I’m so over both of you. It doesn’t matter why we’re here or who’s to blame. We have to work together or we’ll never get out.’

  Get out, get out, get out, out, out! Her voice echoed around the chamber.

  She picked up a stone and threw it angrily into the middle of the stream. Nick went to say something then decided against it. Instead he turned away and slunk into the shadows. George tossed another stone into the middle of the pool.

  Through eyes that were now blurry with tears at the sting of Nick’s and George’s words and the hopelessness of our situation, I watched her stone sink to the bottom where it sat in plain view in the shallow water.

  George tilted her head, looking at the stone for a moment, and then tossed another at the wall. It bounced off and plopped into the water where it sank quickly and disappeared.

  ‘That’s weird,’ she said. ‘Did you see that?’

  Nick’s voice came from out of the darkness. ‘So it’s deeper over there – so what?’

  George let the torchlight linger on the tiny ripples that quivered on the water’s surface. ‘See how the water’s flowing into the pool?’ she asked me.

  Wiping my eyes, I nodded at what seemed like a pretty obvious observation.

  ‘Then how come this pool’s not overflowing?’ George asked.

  I watched as she shone torchlight along the stream to the pool to illustrate her point. I realised George was right. The water was flowing in, but the pool level wasn’t changing.

  ‘So … what? It’s going underground?’ I said slowly, not sure if I really understood what that meant.