Where She Fell Read online

  I won’t, though. I can’t. I haven’t seen a lot of the cavern—only a brief glimpse when Colleen helped me to the horrifying outhouse-like situation they’ve constructed—but I saw enough to know that there are tons of tunnels branching off this main cavern. There are tunnels in the ceiling, tunnels off the sides. In a giant cave system like this one, those tunnels don’t just lead nowhere. Sure, some of them probably loop back around. But some of them definitely go someplace else. Which then goes someplace else. And on and on. Maybe finding an exit won’t be easy, but it has to be possible.

  “How long before my ribs feel better?” I ask. I hate this already and it’s only been a matter of hours.

  “It depends how bad the injury is,” she says. “Usually six weeks or so before something like this heals, but the pain will diminish much faster if it’s bruising than if you’ve cracked or fractured.”

  “Has anyone ever died here?” I don’t know what makes me ask this. It’s so morbid, and it’s a very blunt question. Immediately, my telltale anxiety symptoms start cropping up. I flex my fingers as though it’ll stave off the tingling.

  “Well … yes.” Colleen’s equally blunt answer throws me off entirely, which must show on my face, because she’s quick to go on: “I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s inevitable, isn’t it? This is a very dangerous place, as you’ve already seen. Not everyone is so lucky as to end up here where we’re safe, where we’re protected. Which means, not everyone makes it.”

  I want to ask whether anyone who’s part of the colony has died here, but I can guess the answer and I decide I don’t want confirmation.

  “You should try to get some sleep,” Colleen says, squeezing my hand. “I’ll keep checking in on you, and I’ll have some food brought to you a little later.”

  I don’t argue because I am exhausted. I don’t know what time of day it is or what time of day they consider it, but I guess that doesn’t matter so much. Alone in the tent, I close my eyes. But I’m not comfortable here. Colleen has been kind and welcoming, and that boy killed the monster that tried to kill me. But that doesn’t mean the people here are friendly. They could very well be buttering me up so that my guard is down when the time comes for things to turn sinister.

  You’re being insane, Eliza, I whisper sternly inside my head. It doesn’t help. I feel anxious, and not the way I usually feel anxious. Paranoid might be more accurate. It makes me trembly and restless.

  I do sleep, but it’s haunted, fitful. Colleen checks in on me at least once that I’m semi-conscious for. She makes me nervous because she’s a stranger, but she’s also a comfort because she’s a person and knowing I won’t wander this underground labyrinth alone until I die is more of a relief than I care to admit.

  I don’t know how much rest I actually get, but when my food arrives, I’m awake, sitting up, and wincing against the pain in my ribs.

  The food bringer is a black-haired, pale-skinned teenager who enters the tent with trepidation.

  “Hi,” she says with a soft smile. “I’m Eleanor.”

  I try to return the smile, but it’s like Sherri always says: I’m not a brave person. Right now, I feel less brave than ever. My smile probably looks more like a snarl. “I’m Eliza.”

  She sets down a stone-carved bowl filled with something mushy. “Nice to meet you. Everyone is so excited that you’re here.”

  I can’t help a slight lift of my eyebrows. “Excited? Really?”

  “Well.” She bites her lip. “That probably sounds wrong. But the thing is, it’s inevitable that people get lost down here, you know? We’re always excited when someone joins us alive. It’s super preferable to finding them … not so alive, later.”

  “Fair point, I guess.”

  “In the interest of keeping you alive,” she says with a wry smile, “have some dinner!”

  I eye the bowl warily. The whitish substance steams. So it’s cooked, I guess. Eleanor looks so eager, I try not to seem reluctant when I scoop up a bite with the roughly spoon-shaped piece of stone she handed me.

  I chew slowly, trying to figure out what this tastes like. It’s meat. I think. The general texture and look reminds me a little of fish. Or crustacean, maybe. The flavor’s pretty bland.

  It’s definitely not fish, though. Or crustacean. Or anything I’ve ever eaten.

  I want to know what it is.

  But also … I don’t.

  “You’re wondering what you’re eating, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I admit.

  “Insect.”

  Oh gross. Gross. I stop chewing.

  “Now, before you knew what it was, did eating it bother you?”

  I swallow and the lump of meat settles like a stone. “I guess it didn’t. How are there enough bugs down here for all this meat?”

  “They’re, uh … not ordinary insects. They’re pretty large. Don’t worry, though. They don’t come into our cavern; we have to hunt them.”

  “That … isn’t really soothing.”

  She laughs, a surprised sound. She didn’t expect me to make a joke. “Yeah,” she says. “I guess it’s not.”

  I force down more of the insect, reminding myself that before I knew what it was, I found the taste bland but inoffensive.

  “So … how long have you been here?” I ask, hoping I’m not being too nosy.

  “Two years. I was sixteen.”

  That information surges like acid in my veins. I’m sixteen. I can’t fathom losing the next two years of my life to this cave. “Two years,” I repeat. “And you’ve never found a way out?”

  “There isn’t one,” Eleanor says, very definitively. “But you’ll stop minding after a while.” She smiles, taking my bowl. “I know right now it feels awful. It always does at first. But then you start to love it, eventually.”

  I am never going to love a place that keeps me from my family, from my home. But I don’t say that. “It is a very interesting cave system,” I say instead.

  “You been to a lot?”

  “As many as I can. I … really love rocks and caves and the earth. I am, uh … was planning to study geology in college.”

  “Well, Eliza.” Eleanor stands, squeezes my arm. “You might do better here than anyone expected.”

  She leaves and a pit lodges in my stomach. What does she mean by that? Do I look like the type of person who usually does poorly here? I settle into my cot, wincing at the breath-snatching pain in my ribs.

  This cannot be the place where I die.

  I’m kept in isolation for “twenty-four hours.” Colleen doesn’t use the word isolation, but despite the fact that no one has watches or other time-telling devices, they apparently think they can accurately track the passage of time.

  “It’s a feeling,” Colleen explains. “Think about it. Early humans didn’t have clocks, but their bodies understood when it was time to rest and when it was time to wake up.”

  I don’t argue because arguing stresses me out, but if I were to argue, I would point out that early humans had a nice little helper with the telling of time: the sun.

  Being an introvert, I don’t mind the isolation in theory. I’m getting comfortable enough with Colleen, and I really like Eleanor, who continues to bring me meals. But it worries me that they seem to have a standard isolation period. Why? What are they trying to prevent?

  I ask Eleanor, because she’s more open than Colleen is.

  “Oh, it’s … people who come here are kind of disoriented sometimes. It’s just to give everyone time to adjust. And to see what the new person’s going to be like. It’s for your benefit, and for ours. Eases the transition. And makes it obvious if a newcomer isn’t going to be … um … suitable.” Fear must show on my face. She hurries on. “You’re fine! I mean, like, if they’re violent or something. If it seems like they might endanger us.”

  “Oh.” My heart beats so hard it hurts. For a moment I was convinced she was using this as a lead-in to tell me I’m not welcome to stay. “That makes sense. You wouldn�
�t want a murderer or something living here.”

  She smiles. “I mean, it might liven things up sometimes.”

  “The dangerous things in the caves aren’t enough for you?”

  “You’ll see. After a while, they really lose their fear factor.”

  She severely underestimates my ability to fear things. If it has teeth and it’s willing to bite my face off, I will fear it.

  “What happens to the people who don’t get to stay?”

  “Nothing, really. They just … don’t stay. It’s only happened once since I’ve lived here.”

  It’s supposed to be soothing, probably, but the idea that the colony turns people out to face the cave’s mercy alone unnerves me. What if I do something wrong? Will I be rejected, too?

  What feels like a couple hours later, Colleen tells me it’s time for me to meet everyone. That they’re going to visit me one at a time, which is my personal hell. Meeting new people stresses me out anyway, but meeting people one-on-one is the worst. I panic and I get clammed up and I sound like a moron. Which is exactly what happens when the residents of the colony start trickling through. I meet a lot of people whose names blur together, and then I meet Grayson. He’s the boy who shot that creature. And he’s … extremely cute. Sharp-angled face, green eyes, broad smile and shoulders, rumpled brown hair.

  He introduces himself to me so politely, handshake and everything. His palm is cool and mine is clammy and he must be feeling pretty repulsed right about now.

  “So, um, thanks,” I say awkwardly. “For not letting that thing eat me.”

  He laughs. “It would’ve been a pretty gross mess to clean up.”

  “It was probably a pretty gross mess to clean up anyway. Though I guess … less scattered pieces or whatever.” I hear myself babbling but cannot convince my mouth to close itself. The beginning sensation of panic lodges in my chest. I’ve met too many people and I haven’t yet grasped what is happening to me and why couldn’t Grayson have been a forty-year-old man so I don’t have this confusing flutter in my stomach? “Anyway,” I continue, totally breathless, “I really thought I was going to die and I’m not at all ready to die, so …”

  “You’re welcome,” he says, fidgeting like maybe he doesn’t know what to do with my appreciation. “And I can’t say I’m glad you’re here, because that’s … not a thing to be glad about. But I’m glad you made it. And … welcome to the colony, Eliza.”

  When he leaves, I’m relieved, but I also sort of wish he would have stayed. He was kind and his voice had a softness to it, a soothing quality.

  Colleen returns with an understanding smile.

  “Was that everyone?” I ask, trying not to sound too eager for the introductions to be over. I wasn’t keeping close track of the numbers but I must be close, at least.

  “Just about,” says Colleen. “For now, yes, it’s everyone. You’re starting to look a little tired, and I think—”

  She breaks off mid-sentence when a man barges into the tent.

  “Glenn,” she says in a warning tone, but he pushes past her anyway.

  “Welcome,” he says. I think it’s supposed to be friendly, but his tone is cold.

  “Thank you.”

  “You arrived here with a backpack?”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Excellent, what did you bring?”

  My backpack sits next to me on the bed, and I clutch it to my side. Glenn seems to realize then that he’s frightening me. His severe expression softens. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s just that we share supplies here. So if you had anything that would be useful to the group …”

  “Oh.” I bite my lip. Sharing seems like the right thing to do, but at the same time, I’m reluctant to give up any of my stuff. “Well, I lost my headlamp, but—”

  “Already found it.” Glenn smiles.

  “Oh. Um. Okay. Well, I have another flashlight.” I unzip my backpack and pull it out.

  Glenn takes it, peering inside the pack. “Is that a first-aid kit? A pocketknife? You came prepared.”

  I hand them both over, and my jacket, spare outfit, batteries, snacks, and water bottle, too. He lets me keep my phone. Then we get to my journal.

  “Oh, paper!” he exclaims. “Excellent, a rare commodity.”

  “I can’t—I’m not giving you this, I’m sorry.”

  “But—”

  “Glenn.” Colleen intercedes with a hand gripping his forearm. “This girl needs to rest; she has bruised ribs. And you’ve just ransacked her things. This is not the right way to greet new residents.”

  Their eyes are both storms as they stare at each other for a painfully long time.

  “You’re right,” Glenn says finally, and turns to me. “I’m very sorry, Eliza, I get a little intense about things. Keep the journal.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, but he’s already out of the tent.

  The next morning, I’m finally freed from my tent-prison. Semi-healed. Like a butterfly fresh from the cocoon, when its wings are still all limp and useless, but at least it’s out in the world. Colleen leads me, which I’m thankful for. My heart hums so fast it feels like it’s skipping beats. My palms could water a garden.

  Everyone was kind when I met them last night, but it’s different outside the tent. I don’t know how to insert myself into an already-formed group like this. I barely know how to insert myself into my own friendships. And I’m still wrapping my mind around the part where I’m trapped underground.

  Possibly forever.

  Probably forever.

  A lot of tunnels lead off this room. Some of them are high up, like the one I tumbled out of—a few with makeshift ladders dangling from their openings—and some are at floor level. One is actually in the floor, near the middle of the room, and it feels like a death trap. They keep it covered over so no one falls in. I’m told that through one of the side tunnels is another room with a river carved through it and a waterfall dropping into the abyss below. This room is dry, other than just enough condensation to leave surfaces slick. Hides have been placed over much of the floor, which lessens the danger of walking. They’re from creatures like the thing that chased me, Colleen explained when I asked. Stitched together, these same hides are what cover the tents that line the cave’s walls. The residents have removed most of the cave formations and smoothed over the ground beneath, but the ceiling’s high enough that some stalactites and draperies dangle untouched. A single, small fire glows at the center of the room, and I’m curious how they keep it lit.

  “Welcome back to life,” a voice says from behind me.

  I turn, and there stands Eleanor, hair draped over her shoulder in a loose braid. “Now that you’re out and about, you should come hang out with us!”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah.” She smiles again. “We youths need to stick together. Come on!”

  I glance up at Colleen, who nods encouragingly.

  “Okay. Where are we going?”

  “To the river.”

  She says this the same way you’d say it aboveground. Like it’s a hot day and we’re just gonna go for a swim. Totally normal. And she hooks her arm through mine as though we’re already friends. It makes my stomach feel like a swarm of bees. What if these people think I’m weird? What if I end up ostracized in this tiny community? Where would I even go from here?

  It’s not that I’m planning to live in the colony forever. I want to go home. I have to. But I also have to face the reality that all these people would not have stayed in this cave with its darkness and moist walls and semi-putrid stale smell if they could leave.

  Eleanor leads me through a short but pitch-black tunnel into another cavern. This one is loud, thanks to the thunderous crashing of a waterfall at one side. A fire flickers halfway between where I stand and the edge of the river that cuts through the room. It’s an even smaller fire than in the main cavern, but lights well enough that I can see all the way to the far side, though much of it is cloaked in shadow. Driftwood’s piled up n
ear the fire. Drying, I realize.

  Like in the other room, all the cave formations on this side of the river have been cleared away, leaving semi-flat ground. But a makeshift bridge crosses the river where it’s at its narrowest, and on the far side, they left everything untouched.

  A couple people hang out near the bank just to the left of the bridge, away from the waterfall. I sweep my eyes past them, following the river to where a low-ceilinged opening spits it out.

  “You have to meet the others,” Eleanor says, tugging gently on my arm. “I mean, meet them in a more real way.”

  My insides roil again, but I do want to hang out with the other people my age, so I take as deep a breath as my healing-but-still-achy ribs allow and follow her. “This is Alice and Grayson, in case you didn’t remember their names.”

  “I actually did remember, but I’m terrible with names, so that’s pretty much a miracle, to be honest.”

  They all smile, and the knot inside me loosens a tiny bit. Maybe I’ll do okay after all. If this small group will welcome me, the larger population will be less terrifying.

  Eleanor sits at the edge of the river, rolling up her pant legs. I mimic her, grimacing at the flare of pain in my ribs as I bend, and dip my toes in. The water’s warmer than I expected. Not as warm as the lake I swam through before, but not too chilly, either.

  Alice is on the other side of Eleanor. She’s extremely pretty. The kind of pretty that makes my nausea start up again. She’s dark-skinned with long, dense curls. Faded color in the tips tells me that it was once dyed red. Not orange-red, like my hair, but red-red, like the feathers of a cardinal. Her eyes are deep brown, her lashes and nose are long, and she has dimples in her cheeks and chin.

  Grayson, who paces the water’s edge, I cannot look at, because I’m still dying of embarrassment at how he saved my life and how awkward I was when we met.

  “How are your ribs feeling?” Alice asks. All of them are watching me. But, I guess, what did I expect?

  My throat is a desert and my voice cracks when I say, “Pretty sore. Getting better, though.”