Chapter 19 The Hidden Entrance

I kept checking other places, but the rest of the river stones didn't look freshly placed—the buried part was worn smooth, clearly shaped by years of water flow and boots treading on them.

So I told the team, "The problem's right here, but the actual entrance might not be at this spot."

They nodded, splitting up to search for anything unusual. With the poor light, it was tough going. I started to back up, trying to take in the whole area at once.

"Castor, flare!" I said quietly.

Soon enough, a flare shot skyward, flooding the cavern with light. I scanned everything—water, footsteps, scraping sounds—like a camera snapping pictures, filing them in my mind.

Why was I so sure the passage through the minefield wasn't along the riverbank?

Because that's what "clever" people always do first. They'll try to find a pattern, any little sign in the mines, and convince themselves their hunch is right.

And why was I sure it wasn't underwater?

Because only a fool would risk it. If the river was safe, there'd be no point in mining the bank. Unless the people who set this up really thought through everything and bet no one would be "dumb enough" to try the river. But I couldn't be sure.

The spot Buzz was digging was tough going—a thin layer of soil over hard stone.

I turned to Anchor. "Is that guy awake yet?"

Anchor shook his head. "Probably won't be. Should we try to save him?"

I went over to look. The guy Anchor had carried back was in bad shape—stomach wound, only bandaged, not stitched. Blood still seeping out. Breathing shallow, barely there.

"Forget it. It's pointless now," I told Anchor.

The flare dimmed, but we still hadn't found the entrance. I closed my eyes, mentally laying out a map of the cave. They couldn't have vanished into thin air. Where was it?

"Maybe they really did just go through the river," Buzz said, a bit discouraged. "Want me to check it out up ahead?"

"Don't bother. The river's even more dangerous than the mined bank."

On the far bank, our European friend and Reaper called back, "Nothing over here!"

"That leaves only the ceiling," I muttered to myself.

"Up top," Snow said, suddenly appearing from the water.

By now, I'd gotten numb to her presence. At first, she freaked me out. Now, she was like another voice in my head—always showing up, always talking.

"Flare, aim high!" I called.

Bang! The flare burst above, but the cavern ceiling was so high, the light couldn't reach it.

"There!" Bolt suddenly pointed to a black shape—a rope hanging seven or eight yards above the ground.

I rushed over. Sure enough, a rope dangled from the ceiling, swaying in the dark.

"You're a genius, Numbers," Snow teased, water and a faint scent clinging to her voice.

I gave Bolt a big thumbs-up. He beamed, clearly proud. He must have been watching the ceiling the whole time the flare was burning, just too shy to say anything in case it sounded dumb.

"Reaper, go up. The rest of you cover him," I ordered.

Reaper started climbing up the rock face, going higher and higher until he wanted to leap three yards across to the rope.

I stopped him: "Don't show off."

He hesitated, then climbed another couple of yards before kicking off, arms and legs together, swinging for the rope. He caught it—barely. That extra bit of height made all the difference.

Quick tip: if you ever need to jump from a climb—rock, tree, whatever—even if it's just a few feet, always test your range first. Most people overestimate how far they can go. If you think you can leap 3 feet, it might only be 2 after you account for your body position and movement. Get it wrong and you're falling, not flying.

Because if you misjudge the timing and strength of your push, trying to leap away from whatever you're climbing, you're in trouble. First, you have to pull in your arms and legs—make sure your body is still firmly pressed against your climbing surface. Then, with a single big push, launch yourself out. That one movement actually involves a ton of muscle coordination and strength shifts. If your timing or power is even a little off, you could slip and fall straight down, or barely make it a few inches before crashing back onto what you were climbing in the first place.

Reaper hauled himself up. He weighed over 150 pounds, and with all his gear—probably close to 240. It was all upper body now.

At first, he climbed fast. After the first twenty feet, his pace slowed. By the time he'd made it to the top, nearly a minute had passed. Days of running, fighting, no rest, and it showed.

"Any footholds up there?" I called.

"Yeah," he gasped.

"Scout the area," I ordered.

He disappeared for a bit, then came back to the rope and tied a knot every couple of feet, attached our own rope to the end, and made a line long enough to reach the ground.

With that, we all climbed up to the ceiling of the underground river cave. Easy enough to say, but in truth, it was hell. My gear was carried by Anchor and Bolt, but my injured shoulder made it a struggle just to climb with my own weight.

As soon as we stepped through the opening, we found ourselves in another world.

We moved carefully through the passage—a mix of natural tunnel and man-made route, sometimes sloping up, sometimes down. When we climbed up, we could get above the underground river cave. Downward, we hit the very bottom. Side tunnels brought the sound of water rushing, and fresh air. No idea if they were natural or dug by hand, but it didn't matter. We pushed on.

Sometimes the tunnel was wide; sometimes we had to squeeze through single file. The air changed constantly—fresh here, muggy there. We crept ahead, knowing if we met the enemy in a narrow space, it would be close-quarters, no place to hide.

Looking back, it was all a blur. Was I scared then? Not a bit. I just wanted to get out, find Extremis, finish the job, and go home.

After half an hour, Castor came back. "It's the end," he whispered.

Every muscle tensed. "What's up ahead?"

"We're about to exit this tunnel—there's a fortress over the underground river. It blocks the cave completely. The river flows under the fort. No idea on defenses or weapons."

"Take a break, refuel," I ordered.

"Bolt, come check it out with me."

Bolt was about to eat but dropped his rations the moment I called. He looked beat, even in the dim light.

"Eat first," I said.

"I'm good, Big Brother," Bolt replied.

I patted his shoulder. "Eat up. Reaper, with me."

Reaper and I crept ahead. The further we went, the colder and wetter it got. Soon the sound of water rushing filled our ears. Nox, keeping watch, signaled us. We replied.

"What's the situation?" I asked.

Nox pointed. "See that dark shape about fifty yards ahead? That's the fortress—blocks the whole cave. No sign of people or lights."

"Let's head back."

"What do you think?" I asked Reaper as we crawled back.

He shrugged. "Hard to say. We need a closer look."

I squeezed his shoulder—he tensed up, turning sharply.

"Afraid?" I teased.

"No."

"Then why so stiff?" I squeezed again, just to mess with him.

He shook me off. "Don't like being touched."

"This mission's not going to be easy. Just be ready."

He ignored me.

"I'm going to catch some sleep. You take first watch."

I'd barely gone a few steps when I heard him mutter, "I won't let anything happen to all of you ."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

I turned and walked back to the squad.