Cracks in the Shell

Chapter 5

Hours later and the candle had melted down to a stub. Carlos now realized they faced dozens of identical ramps, all inter-connected like a house of mirrors. The multi-tiered columns looked familiar and yet frustratingly new at each turn, providing no references whatsoever. 

The whole bluff must be honeycombed with caves, Carlos thought. He’d always guessed such a labyrinth lay beneath the ground. On the surface, he’d often marveled at the cracks and holes pocketing the sharp, rocky landscape. Devil’s Meringue is what the locals called this topography. Now that they were trapped inside this demonic desert, with no bearings or water, the name seemed especially apt. 

They were about to settle down for the night, when Carlos spotted a slit in the wall, a trail of crab tracks leading out from it. Turning sideways, he eased through the crack into the open space beyond.

“Henry, come here…quick.” The two men found themselves atop a chasm so deep, the candlelight couldn’t illuminate its bottom. But the rift wasn’t what held their attention; an ancient bridge spanned the blackness. It led to another opening in the flowstone, a hundred yards away. 

“Think its safe?” Henry asked, peering into the void. 

Carlos stared at his friend incredulously. “You’re not thinking of crossing that?” A tangle of grass rope was all that supported the bridge. Someone had threaded boards through the fibers to create a primitive walkway.

Henry stamped the wood to test its age. “Why not? Has to lead somewhere.”

“But we’re looking for the exit.”

Ignoring his friend’s protests, Henry felt the woven railings. “This could be the work of the Taino.” He began to rotate his seminary ring, a gleam flashing in his eyes. They might’ve stumbled upon a rare archeological find, proof native peoples had once lived on the Brac. Perhaps they left artifacts, pots or statuary. 

Henry licked his lips. 

“Let’s test it first.” Carlos picked up a stone and tossed it into the abyss. They waited in silence for several seconds before a splash came echoing back. “Water. That’s a long way down.” He looked up and saw that Henry was already halfway across the bridge. “Jesus…”

Carlos followed his friend over the planks and through the crack on the opposite side. They entered into what appeared to be a construction tunnel - no stalactites and the walls smooth as if dug from hand. Curiously, this rock wasn’t limestone like the rest of the cave, rather a sandy substance that resembled concrete. 

“This has got to be manmade,” Henry said. “Keep an eye out for arrowheads.”

Carlos shook his head. “I’m not looking for no damn arrowheads. We’ll come back with the proper gear.” The tunnel extended straight in either direction, but he decided the best course would be uphill. Fairly soon they came to a branch, with two corridors leading off from the main one. Henry’s comment about arrowheads gave Carlos an idea. He removed his buck knife and started carving an arrow into the wall.

“What’s that for?” Henry asked.

“So we don’t go in circles. Keeps us from doubling back on ourselves.”

“Very clever.”

“I got lost in a sewer once, chasing a gunman. After I found him, these arrows helped me resurface.” 

Henry regarded his friend for a moment, genuinely shocked. 

Carlos grinned and chiseled out the last of the marker. “I did more than write traffic tickets, you know?”