Midnight's Lair (3 page)

    A voice from its other end said, 'Look out, there.'

    'What the…?' Greg.

    Darcy's boat shook, lurched forward a bit.

    'You okay?' she called.

    'No problem.'

    'He almost got squashed,' said a woman.

    'It's okay,' Greg said. 'You run into trouble?'

    'I ran out of bottom,' Darcy answered. She lowered her feet. They found rock. 'It's okay, now,' she said, and tugged at the boat. It inched forward again. 'Watch out for the hole, Greg.'

    'Yeah. No sharks down here, I hope.'

    'We're the only wildlife.'

    'A fucking comedy team,' a voice said.

    'Watch your language, mister,' Darcy snapped. 'Their's kids down here.'

    'Big deal.'

    'Mister!' Darcy warned.

    'Up yours.'

    'Dad, stop it.' A boy. Darcy imagined he must be the kid, thirteen or fourteen years old, wearing glasses and a hooded red sweatshirt - the kid who'd walked the tour beside the man with the sour face. The kid who got his arm yanked roughly when all he wanted to do was pause for a second to look at Indian Face rock, and Darcy had wanted to smack his creep of a father.

    This had to be the same pair.

    '… speak to me that way,' the father muttered threateningly.

    'Ow, don't.'

    'Knock it off back there, Slick.' The voice of a different man.

    'Mind your own business, you old fart.'

    'Hey!' Darcy yelled.

    'Okay, pal.' Greg. 'You're the fellow in the Peterbilt cap and cowboy boots. You're gonna shape up right now.'

    Silence.

    
Must be a real shock,
Darcy thought,
the creep hearing himself described by someone who couldn't even see him in the dark.

    She looked over her shoulder again. The flashlight still pointed at the dock. 'Pretty soon, now,' she said.

    Only about forty feet to go. Though the boat didn't seem especially difficult to tow, Darcy was starting to hurt. Her arms seemed all right, just a little heavy, but her back muscles, especially behind the shoulder blades and all the way down her spine, were hot and sore and felt as if they were bunching into knots. Her buttocks ached. So did the backs of her legs.

    
This is what happens,
she thought.
You hit twenty-one, the body goes. All downhill from here on.

    She smiled.

    Deke the Creep had grabbed her in the parking lot of Sam's after the party last month, tried to steal a kiss from the sloshed birthday girl, and she'd tossed all over him. The look on his face! Then he'd tossed, missing her as she whirled out of the way. The story went all over campus. They started calling her Barfin' Darcy with the Kiss of Death.

    Thank God the semester ended soon afterwards.

    
By fall,
she thought,
it'll be ancient history.

    
By fall, I might be ancient history.

    Her stomach knotted.

    
We'll be all right.

    
Forget lounging by the pool. I'll spend the afternoon soaking in a bathtub in water so hot it'll steam up the mirror. Then go with Mom to the cocktail lounge. Have a double something. Anything but beer. Maybe a Mai-tai. Maybe Greg will be there.

    
I wonder how he looks in the light.

    He's older, but not very. Under thirty.

    Darcy must have seen him before the blackout, but she couldn't remember. She wondered if he was alone.

    
He'll probably leave, anyway, once we're out of here.
Everyone does. If people stay in the hotel, it's usually just for the night before they take the tour. After they've seen the cavern, they take off, either heading home or for the next place of interest marked on their vacation maps.

    
I won't let him get away,
she thought.
Not, at least, until I've bought him a drink.

    Maybe he's with his wife.

    
I'll buy her a drink, too. We'll have to celebrate when we get out of this mess.

    
We will get out of this mess.

    Darcy kept looking behind her. A few yards from the dock, she walked her hands across the boat's edge, moved herself around it's corner, and shoved. The boat cased away.

    'Watch out behind,' she said. 'We're slowing.'

    The boat slipped along in front of her. She was between its side and the dock. As it settled in the water, she clutched its gunnel with both hands and leaned away, her back muscles on fire with the effort. The boat moved slowly towards her.

    A man at the front, the one beside Beth who'd helped Darcy aboard and was first to offer his jacket for Tom, sprang up and leaped to the dock. Beth followed him with the flashlight. Darcy watched him as she pulled the boat. He rushed over the planks, sat down quickly to her right and stuck his legs out straight.

    Darcy let go of the gunnel. She turned away. The boat nudged her back, but she didn't need to worry, now, about being squeezed against the dock. The man held the boat off with his feet while she thrust herself up and scrambled clear.

    They knelt side-by-side, pulled the outstretched arms of passengers, brought the boat in closer, then grabbed the gunnel and worked the boat forward alongside the clock.

    'Everyone stay seated,' Darcy said in a breathless voice. 'Wait till both boats are secure.'

    Beth and two other passengers disregarded the order and jumped out. Just as well, Darcy thought. Beth provided light for the man and woman, who were getting to their knees farther up the dock and reaching out for her boat. Once they had it, Beth hurried forward and held the light on Greg's boat.

    Greg waded to the other side and pushed the boat close enough for Darcy and the man to take over. They brought it in against the dock and three passengers, including Kyle Mordock, hopped out and began tying its lines to the posts.

    As Darcy got to her feet, she saw Greg in the gloom near the far end of the boat, climbing from the water. She went to him.

    'So far, so good,' he said.

    'I'll buy you a drink when we're out of here,' she told him.

    'A nice hot steaming mug of coffee.' He pulled off his sweatshirt, held it at arms' length, and began to wring it out. He was a pale blur above the darkness of his jeans, but Darcy could see that his shoulders were hunched up with the cold. She heard water patter on the boards. 'You want to go back and get the passengers organized?' he suggested. 'I'll be along in a minute.'

    'Sure,' she said, guessing that he wanted to wring out his pants.

    He turned away and walked farther into the darkness.

    Darcy's own clothes were sodden and cold. She thought of the grotto near the other end of the dock.

    She faced the boats. The passengers were already stepping out. She made her way through them. 'Greg-and I want to rest and dry off for a couple of minutes. Then we'll all take a hike for the elevators. In the meantime, everyone stay here and try not to fall in the lake.'

    There were a few laughs.

    The seat on the forward boat where Tom had been was empty. She found him standing on the dock, held steady by the man who'd helped her with the boats. His head was hanging. He still pressed the handkerchief to his wound. 'How're you feeling, Tom?'

    'Guess I'll live,' he muttered.

    'Thanks for the help,' she told the other man. 'Are you Beth's husband?'

    He nodded. 'I'm Jim. Jim Donner.'

    'You've been a lot of help, Jim. Beth, too. I appreciate it.'

    'Hey, we're all in this together.'

    'You want to look after Tom till I get back?' she asked.

    'Sure thing.'

    She reached for the flashlight clipped to Tom's belt, pulled it free, and thumbed the switch. A white beam darted out. Its brightness made her realize how weak and yellowish the other flash had become.

    

    

    With a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was following, Darcy hurried over the boards and reached the concrete walkway. A few yards farther, she found the stone stairs, rushed up them and entered the grotto.

    It had been the size of a small, round closet when Darcy first saw it two weeks ago. Now, it was slightly larger. Near the entrance was a wheelbarrow loaded with chunks of limestone hacked from the walls. A pickaxe was propped against the side of the wheelbarrow.

    Cuhby Wales, Ethan Mordock's handyman, had been down here during the weekdays, enlarging the grotto.

    Once it was big enough, Ethan planned to install a chemical toilet for the convenience of the tourists.

    
Too bad this is a Saturday,
Darcy thought.
Would've been nice to have another able-bodied employee on hand.

    She set the flashlight on the wheelbarrow's piled rocks, pointing away from her. Its beam spread out against the side wall, filling the small enclosure with light.

    As fast as she could, she took off her shoes and socks. The floor was gritty under her bare feet, so she spread her jacket and stood on it. She kept her back to the entrance as she removed the rest of her clothes. Though the garments were sodden and cold, she felt worse without them. The chilly air of the cave seemed to seep into her damp skin. She crawled with gooseflesh and her nipples felt hard and achy. Her jaw muscles were sore from clenching her teeth together.

    For a while, she stood there shivering, hunched over slightly, legs clamped together for warmth, and briskly rubbed her hands over her nubby skin. That didn't seem to help much.

    With a palsied hand, she lifted her panties off the wheelbarrow handle, balled them up and squeezed. Water spilled through her fingers. When she couldn't force out any more drops, she shook the flimsy garment open. Hopping from foot to foot, she stepped into the leg holes, and drew the panties up. They were damp, but much better than before. The snug cling of them felt good.

    Not good enough. She was still shuddering with cold as she leaned forward and pulled her trousers off the wheelbarrow. She struggled to slide the belt out of the loops, and then emptied the pockets, dropping her change purse, keys, comb and handkerchief onto the jacket at her feet.

    She twisted a long, blue leg of the trousers into a tight hilt and water splattered the tops of her feet. Gathering up the other leg she began to wring it out… and flinched at a quiet, scraping sound behind her. A footstep? She whirled around, Kyle stood in the opening.

    She jerked her trousers up to cover her breasts. 'Damn it,' she snapped. 'Get out of here!'

    In the dim glow from the flashlight, she saw Kyle form a narrow smile. 'I thought you might like to have this,' he said, holding his jacket towards her. 'It's dry,' he added.

    'Thanks.' Her voice shook. She clamped the pants against her breasts with a forearm, and took the jacket with her other hand.

    'Let's see if it fits,' he said.

    'I'm sure it will.'

    'Oh, come on.'

    'You've already seen me, Kyle.'

    'Not on purpose. I just came over to do you a favour.'

    'And I appreciate it. Now, please go on back. I'll be along in a minute.'

    His grin stretched wider. 'Do you want my pants?'

    Darcy shook her head. 'Your jacket's plenty. Thanks.' She was about to suggest again that he leave. Instead, she asked, 'Do you have any idea what happened to the lights?'

    'Maybe someone switched them off.'

    That possibility had never occurred to her. She'd understood, from the start, that the lights had gone off because of a power failure. If they were only turned off, then the elevators could still be working.

    'Glad I asked,' she muttered.

    'But I don't think that's it,' Kyle said. 'I think it's the generators. I mean, who'd turn off the lights?'

    Darcy shook her head. 'I don't know. Anyway, thanks again for the jacket. See you later.'

    He turned around and vanished into the darkness. The sound of his footsteps faded.

    
Wouldn't surprise me,
Darcy thought,
if he sneaks back for a second look.

    
Weird little creep.

    
Take it easy on him,
she thought.
He brought me the jacket.

    
Just an excuse to take a peek. I should've figured he'd do something like that.

    She turned her back to the opening, held the pants between her legs, and got into the jacket. It was a wind-breaker of synthetic fabric that felt weightless. It was slick and cool against her skin. Tucking her chin down, she bent over slightly to watch her trembling hands struggle with the zipper. And noticed how her damp panties clung like transparent skin.

    She felt sick.

    
The bastard couldn't have seen more if I was naked,
she thought.

    
Damn him!

    At last, she fitted the zipper together. She slid the tab up.

    And sighed, moments later, when she felt how the jacket seemed to trap her body heat.

    
At least I got the jacket out of the deal,
she told herself.

    
Would've been better to freeze, though, than have this shit lay his eyes all over me.

    Darcy continued to shake as she finished wringing the water from her pants. But the tremors weren't from this - she shook with fury and humiliation.

    Mad enough,
he saw my breasts.

    
Maybe he didn't notice the other.

    
Fat chance. He's short and he was standing below me.