Run To the Sea
Chapter 20
Sue Glasgow
By the evening of the fifth day Vincent was tiring. He was still five days from home. The landmarks around him remained unfamiliar, and he was becoming very impatient to be home. When he dreamed now, it was of Catherine's smile. He saw her sitting with him on her balcony, finishing the final chapters of "Great Expectations". Then she was with him in the park, and he held her as the rain streamed down her face. She looked up at him, and for a moment she looked like a little girl, no older than Samantha. Once, in the sweetest of his dreams, she lifted her face to his, and, just for an instant, he could imagine what it would be like to kiss her.

He awoke unwilling to let the dream go, fighting off consciousness as he savored the last traces of Catherine's presence. The darkness was a screen upon which he could replay the moments he had shared with her before he came fully awake. Then she was gone, and he rolled over to light the lantern. The darkness opened into a circle of light across the floor. The cavern was much larger here. This place was just below the chamber where the river surfaced. Above him, to the left, he would find the crevice which led to the Great Maze and the Ice Chamber. On the far side of the maze beyond the Ice Chamber he would find the tunnel which
would lead him back to the upper section of the river.

After his breakfast he refilled the lantern and broke camp. Anchoring the lamp over his right shoulder, he began climbing up to the crevice thirty feet above him. The shale was brittle here, breaking loose beneath his feet and making his climb difficult. Finally he was safely at the top, and he ducked into the crack which was barely wide enough to allow his shoulders to pass through. Beyond, he found the opening that led to the first of the maze tunnels, and he looked for the chalk mark. The yellow smudge was there, and he moved into the coolness of the tunnel. The first of the junctions was several hundred feet further on, and again he found the mark easily.

At the end of an hour he was deep within the maze. The temperature was dropping, and he pulled on his gloves in the bitter cold.

Traveling rapidly, he arrived at the Ice Chamber by midmorning. Once he was in the Ice Chamber he was reluctant to leave, knowing the beauty of the twinkling snowflakes would become only a very precious memory. He drew his cloak more firmly about him. For an instant he focused on every detail he wanted to share with Catherine. Maybe someday he could bring her here, but for now he had other priorities. The most intricate part of the maze was immediately before him. Lifting the lantern, he moved on into the channel which led to the shaft of freezing air. Once he was down that shaft he would have to locate the yellow trail marks again.

The air was dry with a cold which went deep into Vincent's lungs and chilled him from the inside. His breath crystallized, clinging to his cloak and hood as he peered into the shaft's depths. A man could freeze to death very easily in this frigid bottomless hole. He hooked the lantern over his right arm and swung out onto the rough wall of the shaft. The heavily pitted surface made handholds relatively easy to find. The tunnel entrance would be about thirty feet below him, on the opposite side from the Ice Chamber. He sought a firm footing and lowered his body. Looking down, and he could barely see the ledge at the lip of the tunnel below. Beyond that, the shaft disappeared into frigid darkness. One of his packs swung up against the wall, loosening a shower of small stones and loose shale. He listened for the pebbles to strike bottom. They never did.

He moved cautiously further to the right. Below him was a series of cracks and fissures which served almost as a ladder. Reaching down with his left foot, he tested the strength of the rock. It was firm, but the second step he took was not as secure, and another shower of stones fell into the pit below. Both hands were firmly placed above him, and he caught himself. For an instant he clung to the wall, catching his breath, relocating the tunnel entrance. He could see it twenty feet below him. Again he reached out tentatively with his right foot. At last his boot dug into a narrow hole, and he transferred his weight, releasing his left hand and reaching down into the shadows between his lantern and the shaft wall. His pack was in the way, and he nudged it back, feeling the stone through his thick gloves. The air was so cold some of the sensitivity was already leaving his fingers. He took a deep breath and gripped a tiny ledge. The hold was not as secure as he would have liked, but the cold was numbing him, and he felt the need to move more quickly.

Suddenly the stones supporting his left foot shifted, and a whole layer of shale broke away. He yanked his foot free and slid it across the surface, hunting another toe hole. Neither his left hand nor foot was securely placed, and for the first time he seriously considered the danger he was in. The tunnel's ledge was still below him, to the right. And just as he made the decision to jump for it, the rocks beneath his right hand came loose from the wall, sending Vincent plunging into the cold emptiness.

He was cold, and it was dark. For long moments he lay still, waiting for the vertigo to pass, trying to think beyond an ache in his head and a pain across his recently healed ribs. He could taste the blood from a small cut on his bottom lip. Testing himself for broken bones, he decided he was intact and whole. He must have jumped successfully to the tunnel entrance. Slowly he pulled himself to a sitting position and looked into the darkness. Pitch darkness. He felt over his shoulder for the lantern. It was not there.

He was surprised at the depth of the darkness. Vincent had almost always been able to see in the tunnels. Once, as a child, he had been caught for a brief time in a collapsed part of the lower chambers, and even then with no light source, he had been able to discern slight shades of gray. But this was different. There was a totality to this darkness, so all-pervading that a new fear leaped into his thoughts. He put his hand to his head and found a swelling at his temple, very near the bruise which had been there over two months ago. What if it had happened again? What if this time he was truly blind?

He needed the lantern. Extending his arms, he searched with wide sweeping circles about him. One of his packs had torn open, and supplies were scattered across the ledge. Carefully he gathered the items in the dark. There was no lantern, but if he could find his matches he could make another crude torch. On his hands and knees he searched the whole surface seeking the parcel which contained his matches and two pieces of flint. Suddenly he heard something slipping down an incline toward the pit, and he realized Catherine's pack was about to slide over the edge. He lunged for it, snatching it to safety, but as he did so, his foot kicked something, sending it off into space. Even without a further search, Vincent knew he had sent his matches to the bottom of the shaft. With his breath coming more quickly, he pulled himself to the lip of the ledge and looked down into the pit. There was nothing. Cursing his own carelessness, he slid back to the tunnel opening and leaned against the wall. Blinking his eyes, he rubbed his gloved hand across his face. He was four days from home in a maze, and he could not see.

As he realized his fingers and feet were numb, he wondered how long he had been lying here after his fall. He had to get up and move or face the very real possibility of freezing to death on this ledge. Repacking the damaged shoulder pack, he came to his feet and anchored both bags over his shoulders. At least he still had food and water and a warm bedroll. He stepped forward and found even though his feet were numb, his legs still supported his weight. For now he had only one course of action. He put his hands against the tunnel wall and moved away from the cold shaft and deeper into the maze.

His progress was slow as he concentrated upon his previous trip through this section. Silently he berated himself for depending so much on the chalk trail marks and his instinctive sense of direction. He had not given enough attention to each junction, and even though he knew the precise direction where home was, he did not know the way through the maze which would take him there. As he walked, the air grew warmer, and the feeling returned to his hands and feet. Then came the first intersection in the tunnel. He forced his mind back to two weeks ago. He had made a mark, but where was it? He pulled off his glove and ran his fingers lightly across the wall on the left. The mark should be at shoulder height. He felt nothing. Moving to the other tunnel he repeated the action, and again there was nothing to feel.

Standing back, he faced the two paths in the darkness. For a moment he smiled grimly. He was Vincent, the being who always knew the right path to take. He knew every tunnel, every chamber. And even as a tiny child he had never been lost. His amazing vision and his uncanny sense of direction had never failed him. Now he was standing before these two tunnels, and all the other junctions that lay before him in this maze, and if he chose incorrectly he would die here, in this lost place where not even Mouse had come. He followed his instinct and chose the tunnel which lay most nearly in the direction of home.