The loud rumbling that surrounded us ceased, leaving us to our soft cries and murmurs. Jace's stone cold hand dropped from mine and I turned to see the respective partners holding and comforting each other. The dancing shadows on the jagged wall seemed to not share in our melancholy.
Each couple whispered words of encouragement amongst themselves.
"It's alright."
"We're going to be okay."
"We'll get through this."
However, there I was with no one to comfort me or relay the typical words of reassurance. My instinct was to lock eyes with the only other single person in the vicinity, and although I needed comfort to fill the void in my heart, anger rose in its place.
"You," I snarled. Blamore lifted his sad gaze and we locked eyes. "You did this."
He bowed his head and his shoulders slumped in surrender. "Sorry."
"You did this to us!" I screamed, allowing my anger to bubble to the surface. In no time I was on the other side of the room, pushing and shoving the man to no avail. His large and heavy frame remained fixed. "You never should've come into my shop. I never should've allowed you in there." The butt of my fists repeatedly pounded against his muscled chest until he grabbed them to stop me.
I looked up into his face in the dim light. "Why?" My question wasn't directed at him. It was a question for myself regarding my refusal to forgive Jace. Would it have been so bad to give him that peace of mind? After all, forgiving was not excusing his behavior, but a means of not allowing his behavior to have power over me.
Blamore frowned, his lips quivered slightly. "I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes to stop the tears from blurring my vision and lay my head on his chest. It seemed natural after all, a warm, comforting embrace in the aftermath of a devastating loss. A loss that I felt responsible for. I expected Blamore to stand there in awe, but he surprised me by enveloping me in his arms.
I tuned out the subtle noise around me and sunk deeper into his embrace, allowing his cotton shirt to wick away my heavy tears. I permitted the rapid drumming of his heart to calm my nerves and all went silent.
Warm liquid engulfs me from my neck down. Hands and feet rapidly paddle in the dark, floating, suspended yet moving along towards nothingness. A vicious tug on my leg yanks me down. My heart rate increases. Fingers enclose around my ankles, pulling me down, down, down. Deeper in an abyss. I inhale liquid as the fingers claw at my calves.
"Don't worry," Blamore whispered, snapping me back to reality. "I will protect you."
I pulled away from him, staring suspiciously at this stranger and the vision he conjured from me at his touch. "We have to keep moving. I can't stand to be in this room much longer."
I picked up my helmet and secured it on my head again, hoisted my pack on my back, and refused to look behind me at what remained of the horrific encounter. There was only one way to go from here, down another long, dark tunnel.
"Follow." Blamore went first and I tailed, glancing over my shoulder at the others.
Cecil sobbed as she limped along, visibly distraught. "I can't believe Jace is dead."
"We should've never come." Brent rushed past Cecil, keeping his eyes ahead.
Angrily, I snapped. "I think we've already established that."
Brent stopped and his voice grew to match mine. "Is this what happens when we mess around with witchcraft and Paganism?"
I stepped forward until our noses were inches apart. "Are you suggesting I somehow caused this to happen because I used tarot?"
"Not at all." He pursed his lips. "I think all that crap is nonsense. And just like Jace said, us entertaining it is dangerous. You're smart enough to see that, right?"
Samuel moved forward between us. "Listen. There's no use in arguing over beliefs. Let's just stick to the facts. Okay? We came. We're here. Now we just have to find a way out. Nothing else matters?"
Cecil rested against the tunnel wall. "Sticking to the facts means acknowledging Max's gifts. That's step one."
Samuel shook his head. "I told you, there's nothing supernatural here."
Cecil wiped away a few stray tears with the back of her hand. "She saw this happening."
"Yet, she couldn't do anything to prevent it," Brent said. "So, what's the point?"
"It's not always one-hundred percent accurate," Cecil said in my defense. "Right, Max? Tell them how it works."
What was the point? Why argue over me and my abilities? Everyone was going to believe what they wanted and not a word from my mouth would change that. "Finding a way out of here is a better use of our time."
"Of course." Brent rolled his eyes. "You have nothing to say when we're questioning your—" He paused, and a strange look came over him. "You hear that?"
We grew quiet, struggling to hear anything out of the ordinary.
I looked down both sides of the tunnel. Was it more rumbling? An oncoming quake? "I hear nothing."
"Listen," Brent moved closer to the wall, allowing his ear to guide him. "It's saying, 'don't hold your breath.' What does that mean?" As much as he didn't believe in my psychic gifts, he didn't hesitate to look to me for the answer.
"Why are you asking me?" I shrugged. "I don't know any more than you."
"The voice, it sounds like . . ." He shot me a look that gave me instant goosebumps. "It sounds just like you."
Cecil sighed in disbelief, noticeably drained and distraught from our traumatizing encounter with death. "That's impossible. I don't hear anything. Does anybody else?"
All eyes quickly glanced around before settling on Brent.
"Oh no." He pinched the bridge of his nose and his breathing grew rapid. "Don't tell me I'm going crazy."
Then the realization hit me. I understood why they were in my vision and what it meant.
"You're not crazy." I nodded, confidently. "You're using your clairaudient abilities. Every person is born with psychic abilities if they believe it or not. Some gifts are just more developed in them than others."
"Clair-what?" Brent narrowed his eyes, still on the verge of hyperventilating.
"Clairaudient or clear hearing," I could tell by the look he gave that he wasn't buying it. "You know when you're thinking of someone and then that person texts you? People call that coincidences, I call it intuition. You are tuning into your latent psychic abilities. And we all have a dominant one."
Samuel huffed. "Is this really the time for this?"
"This explains why we were meant to be here," Cecil interrupted. "It makes total sense."
I turned to her. "You've asked me to mentor you and help you develop your gift. I always knew you had the ability to see beyond your visual capabilities. Like me, you have the ability of clairvoyance."
Cecil gave a weary smile. "What about Samuel and Art?"
I thought about Samuel and Arturo and the things they said before entering the cave and before the collapse. "Their ability of clairsentience allows them to feel when something is about to occur or when something is out of place."
"Danger?" Cecil's eyes widened.
I nodded. "Exactly."
I thought of Jace and all those times he claimed to just know things. Even during our awkward phone call he said he knew I would call. I bowed my head. "And Jace was given the gift of claircognizance, clear knowing."
Cecil huffed impatiently. "So, what does this mean?"
I looked up into her dreary eyes. "I think you were right when you said we needed to work together. Maybe we were meant to be here to fulfill a greater purpose."
"True," Blamore said. "Going home."
I didn't understand what that purpose could be. For so long I searched for one, and now that I have one, I have no idea what it means. "Maybe we are like the fingers of a hand. In order to function properly we have to work together."
"Yeah, but unfortunately one of those fingers are missing." Brent didn't hold back at all, and his straightforward attitude was jarring when he spat the truth.
The truth did more than hurt. It cut deep.
I ignored him and pulled my tarot cards from the side of my pack. Maybe they would give me guidance. "I had a vision of being suspended in dark liquid, maybe water." I shuffled the cards in my hands. "Maybe that has to do with what Brent heard."
Before I could pull a card, Brent slapped the deck from my hand and the cards scattered. "Stop it with this bullshit! A man has died."
"Don't you think I'm aware of that?" I bent to gather up the cards at my feet. "Even Jace knew what was going to happen. He knew. He told us."
"No," Brent said. "In all my years working in hospice, taking care of the sick and elderly, I've watched people die. And each of them knew they were not going to make it. I held hands with some of them while they passed, but it was never nothing like this. Nothing ever this violent and disturbing. If Jace knew what was ahead for him, he wouldn't have come. And now I'm regretting doing the same."
Samuel stood between us, preventing us from getting within the boundaries of personal space. "Please, not you two. We can't break down now. We gotta stay focused. Agreed?"
With that, the sound of commotion echoed through the tunnel. It resembled movement coming from the room we'd just escaped. The subtle shuffling of footsteps was quickly drowned out by whimpers and sobs.
Eerily, the voices were distinct.
"It's alright."
"We're going to be okay."
"We'll make it through this."
I looked to Samuel, wide-eyed. "That sounds a lot like you guys."
We listened as the distant, yet familiar voice cried out, "You. You did this!"
I gasped. "Was that my voice?" How could that be? It was obvious there was not a random group of people that just wandered into the cave as the only way into that area was closed off. Plus, why would they repeat everything we had said to one another earlier?
"Sshh." Cecil slowly nodded and tugged Arturo's wrist. "I don't know who they are, but they must not know we're here eavesdropping so let's keep it that way. I would hate to see what happens if they found out."
"What is going on?" Samuel's voice was low and just as shaky as his hands. "Is that . . . us?"
"No," I whispered. "How can that be when we are right here?"
Far behind us, my voice reverberated off the tunnel walls. "We have to keep moving. I can't stand to be in this room much longer."
"Shit! They're coming. Come on." Cecil and Arturo scurried up the tunnel, leading the way through the darkness while relying on their helmet lights to illuminate the way.
I kneeled and quickly scooped up the remaining tarot cards on the ground. Surprisingly, Brent assisted. When footsteps echoed from behind, we quickly followed the others, leaving one tarot card behind. I knew without looking it was the card of Justice, the Standing Stone.
Quietly, we jogged along, hoping to escape the disturbing sounds of our voices following at a short distance.
Brent placed a hand on Samuel's lower back. "So, I'm not crazy, right?"
We rushed through the tunnel while remaining as stealthy as possible, until ending up in an open space containing the ink black water of an underground lake half the size of a football field.
"Impossible," I murmured, gawking at what was absolutely eerie, mystifying and uninviting. My imagination conjured up a host of aquatic creatures just waiting for a disturbance on the surface so they could emerge and feast. Across the lake was a patch of dry ground that was similar to the one we were on. Clearly, a tunnel at the opposite end was our only way out.
I sighed, willing to face the inevitable. "Ready to get wet?"
Brent laughed in disbelief. It was clear this trek and experience was taking a toll on him and his mental state. "Don't hold your breath . . . I get it now." He laughed louder, ignoring our pleas for silence. "This is our only way out, isn't it? And guess what, I can't swim."