Errant

Five On The Melon

Neither one of us speaks as we weave through the passageways and staircases of the peach colored rock. Every time we pass by one of the thousands of glowing lamps, carved into the wall itself, I nearly run my face into the stalactites that are scattered about. My feet are treacherous at best, and the lamps put me in such a state of wonder that I have trouble avoiding obstacles.

More staircases, more hallways. My legs are gelatin, and my arm begins to pound to the rhythm of my heartbeat. Steadily, a rumbling sound begins to creep into the rock around me. At first I dismiss it as my imagination, since Rowan continues on without a word. But within a minute, the sound becomes unmistakably obvious— a roaring, deep, bass-like rumble that vibrates through my shaky legs and all the way into my chest.

My legs freeze, and I place a hand to the slick walls to feel the vibration there as well. I've seen no mechanical or electrical equipment since arriving here— nothing that would produce any noise at all, let alone the roar that assaults the air around me. Rowan turns around ahead and motions, his mouth moving, but his words are swallowed by the rumble before they can reach me. I take my damp palm from the wall and follow him down a sloping path.

Ahead, the cave opens up slightly, and dim natural light floods the path, washing away the peach glow of the lamps. An ancient metal railing lines the side of the sloping path as it opens to the chamber ahead— a room so massive that the small glimpse I have of it now reveals nothing but blackness. How the railing is only marginally rusty in such damp conditions, I have no idea. I make a mental note to stay far to the left of the path as we approach it.

Rowan, it seems, has no misgivings about the strength of the railing. He reaches it first and leans nonchalantly against it as he waits, his strange eyes focused on the room ahead. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. For a reason I can't pinpoint, my body has gone numb with fear for what might be on the other side of that railing. But with Rowan so relaxed, I can't bring myself to be on edge. My clenched muscles loosen.

I reach the railing and place my hands on the cool metal. I'm suddenly glad for it, as my knees buckle from underneath me. A small, faint 'oh' escapes my mouth and is quickly drowned out by the source of the monstrous vibrations in the corridor.

Rushing, pounding, massive amounts of water, roaring from a mouth the size of a football field into a pool the size of six. A waterfall. Raw terror shoots through my body with such force that I involuntarily shudder, and my hands— white-knuckled around the railing—prickle with dread.

Years of embarrassment about my fear is the only thing that keeps my feet rooted to the ground, and my mind clear enough to squeak out a question.

"You live here?" My voice betrays me. The edges of it are ragged, and my tone more than conveys the depth of my fear. I swear internally and fight Oliver's face from my memory. Rowan finally takes his eyes from the waterfall to study my face. I keep my eyes carefully trained on the rushing water.

"We do," he says over the roar of the water. "This is all underneath the city. It actually runs through the pipes that keep houses warm above ground. But it works wonders for keeping us warm, too."

I realize that the mist dusting my cheekbones is actually warm. Comfortably so, the droplets bringing momentary life to my numb face before evaporation turns it cool again. I take another breath of the moist air and shove my fears aside so I can observe the rest of the cavern.