Wrath of Poseidon (Fargo Adventures 12)

What Sam didn’t see was any possible way out, beyond the tunnel they’d crawled through.

The other three entered the chamber, Remi moving beside him, looking around in disbelief. She let out a breath, dropping her head to her arms. “All that to end up here? I can’t believe this. I could’ve sworn that sound was the sea. I can still hear it.”

He glanced over at her, seeing the disappointment on her dirt-covered face. “It was worth a try.” Reaching up, he switched off his headlamp. The others did the same.

“We should go back,” Dimitris said. “At least in the other chamber, we can stand.”

Nikos sighed. “Give me a minute or two. I’m not looking forward to the trek back.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Dimitris replied.

“Don’t forget, my bones are twice as old as yours. And my knees twice as bruised.”

As his son’s laughter echoed through the dark space, then died, Sam’s gaze caught on the low roof at the far end of the chamber. For a moment, he thought it might be his imagination, his eyes playing tricks. “Look. Straight ahead.”

Remi shifted beside him. “At what? There’s nothing there but the end of the cavern.”

“Exactly,” he said, crawling in that direction. “So, unless we’ve suddenly developed extreme night vision, there’s no way we should be seeing it.” Somehow, light was seeping in, too faint to reach the entire chamber, but enough for them to notice, now that their eyes had adjusted in the absence of their headlamps.

Had they not waited in the dark for Nikos to rest, they might have missed it entirely.

As Sam neared the end of the chamber he saw that the domed ceiling dropped sharply to their right, a faint glow leading the way. Once again, he had to crawl on his belly. When he stilled, he thought he heard the far-off cry of a gull. Or the wind whistling through the opening somewhere above him.

He reached out, holding his hand toward the space, not only able to see each of his fingers in the diffuse light, but able to feel the air moving.

Turning onto his back, he looked up. The ceiling rose about four feet, into a narrow, angled shaft. Though it was somewhat brighter at the top, and plenty of fresh air sweeping down, it clearly didn’t lead straight out.

He glanced at Remi, who’d crawled into the space behind him. “I’ll go first,” he said. “If I knock anything loose, you don’t want to be beneath me.”

She nodded, then moved back.

“Is it a way out?” Dimitris asked.

“Let’s hope so,” Sam said. He climbed into the passageway, dislodging bits of rock as he dug the soles of his boots into the walls, trying to find purchase. Eventually, the tunnel angled up like a narrow chimney. Light filtered in at the top about ten feet above him. He emerged onto a narrow ledge and looked over the edge. The waves broke against the rocks about thirty feet below. The sun was low in the sky to his left, and Fourni was straight ahead to the north. He saw a few fishing boats out in the far-off distance, but none close enough to signal to. Still, they were free. He called down to Remi. “Definitely the way out. Come on up.”

A few moments later, her head popped out of the shaft. Dimitris, then Nikos, followed. While they settled themselves onto the ledge, Sam was looking at the rocks above, trying to find a way up. There was enough of a ridge to their right that they could carefully navigate across the face of the cliff to work their way up to what looked like a possible path to the top. “We have two choices. Wait here and hope someone sees us before nightfall, or climb to the top, and hope no one survived the helicopter crash.”

Nikos eyed the cliff, then Sam. “You really think anyone survived?”

“They were fairly close to the ground when the helicopter hit the rocks.”

“I vote we go up,” Dimitris said. “Better than waiting here.”

Nikos nodded in agreement.

“Remi?” Sam asked.

“I’m going with you.”

They slowly made their way along the ledge. Close to the top of the almost vertical cliff, the ridge they were using narrowed to just a few inches wide. Sam found a solid crack about shoulder height, wedged his fingers into it, then reached out with his right foot. The rock crumbled beneath his weight, his foot slipping.

Remi’s breath caught.

“I’m fine,” he said, pulling himself up. He extended his foot farther, hitting the ridge just beyond the break, relieved to feel solid rock beneath. He looked back at Remi and held out his hand. She grasped it, stepping over the break. “You’ve got it,” he said, watching her foot hit solid rock.

Once Remi was safely past that point, she edged her way closer to Sam. “And here I thought it was going to be a stress-free day.”

“Weren’t you the one who wanted to write a book?”