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was freaking him out, but he was going in there.

  (THREE)

  It was the middle of the night, but he had never been so wide awake. Maybe everybody had given up, he thought to himself, but he had not. He would bike into town, go to that place that his brother was always talking about that sold caving equipment. Mike’s Cavers. They would know what he needed to go down into the ground. Boots, a waterproof jacket, a helmet, gloves, an LED light, rope, cams, carabiners—he was trying to remember what else they had with them that one scary time Bryan had taken him into a cave.

  It might be expensive, but he would buy everything he needed. Cost didn’t matter. He would spend the money he’d made last winter waiting on tables at Jimmy’s. He was going to use it for a hiking trip, but this was more important. And, then, an idea jumped into his head. Maybe Bryan had extra gear in his room, stuff he hadn’t taken with him. He was always buying equipment.

  Joel took the stairs three at a time and paused before the closed door to Bryan’s bedroom. Damn, did he lock it? He turned the handle and pushed. The door opened. Unlocked! That was typical Bryan. He sort of trusted everybody. The sight inside always took him aback even though he’d seen it many times. The walls were dancing with giant posters---blown-up photos of huge caves all lit up in a rainbow of colors plus close-ups of what Bryan had said were famous cavers dangling from ropes or whatever. God, he even had one poster splayed out on the ceiling. But everything neat---not like his own all-over-the-place rooms. Built for comfort, he told people, not for speed.

  Yeah, there was a ton of caving gear. Taking a quick look, he realized he might not have to buy much, maybe nothing. Bryan even had extra boots, which, of course, would fit him just fine. One of the good things about being twins. Also, a small duffle. He crammed it full of what he guessed he might need down there. He also found a cache of quarters. He took all of them. He would pay Bryan back later, but meantime he might want to hit a trail mix/candybar machine. He also took what looked like a waterproof bag just big enough for his cell phone. Reception in a cave would have to be bad, but he couldn’t imagine not having it with him.

  A few things he couldn’t find were an LED head lamp, a heavy jacket and a helmet. Well, he had a helmet for his bike. That would have to do. A coil of rope leaned against one wall. Just above it was a large black and white photograph pinned to the wall. It made him wince. It showed Bryan waving from the bottom of a big sinkhole, waving casually at the camera as though he were standing on a beach somewhere. He was laughing. A typical fearless Bryan moment, he thought.

  He was about to start poking around in his bedroom when another much smaller photo caught his eye. He would remember this one for a long time. On a small table by a sofa chair was a framed picture taken inside a cave of a prostrate young guy with his blood-spattered head lolled back on another man’s arm. It took Joel only a moment to realize who it was. Mel Ericton had been a close caving buddy of Bryan’s. His brother had been very shaken up about what happened to him. He had fallen in another cave, and Bryan had spent many hours retrieving his body from a deep sinkhole. Joel remembered that his brother wouldn’t talk about it for months.

  It was a powerful reminder of what might have already happened to his brother. He felt a return of the kind of choking fear that ran through him as he climbed through those caves that time with Bryan. He realized it would take a lot for him to get on top of it---to force himself to become as iron-hearted as his brother. But it was do it or walk away and let him perish.

  Well, the things he couldn’t find lying around Bryan’s pad were important, but he was sure he’d find them at Mike’s. Sure, the store would be closed at this hour, but he’d wake the owner up, and he’d come and let him in. He’d have to let him in. There was no time to lose. A caver would understand. The town had one tavern. It stayed open very late. The bar tender or somebody there probably knew where Mike lived, would give him directions, and Mike would open his place up, let him buy what he needed, and he’d be out of there and into the cave before the sun leapt over the ridge. At least he sure hoped so.

  He leaned his bike against the outside wall of the tavern and half-ran into the place. Abruptly, the dream he seemed to be traveling inside of popped like a bubble. He immediately saw this wasn’t going to work. The bar tender would never give him the caving-store owner’s address---just so he could wake the poor slob up in the middle of the night. Besides, an experienced caver would probably never let him buy stuff to go into a cave alone. Come on, get real, he told himself. But he decided he was going through with this all the same.

  There were two guys at the bar. Obviously cavers---at least they sure looked like it---thick-armed, bearded and pale as ghosts from hours spent deep in the earth. They turned to look at him, and one of them whispered: “My God, it’s Bryan.’” Most cavers in the area knew each other. The bar tender seemed so startled it might have been funny any other time.

  All Joel could say was: “I wish I were Bryan.”

  “Of course,” said the barkeep. “You’re Joel. His twin brother. Sorry, Joel.” He had served him hamburgers more than once. “It’s a little spooky all this,” he said. “Haven’t lost a local caver around here in years.”

  “Sorry it’s your brother,” said one of the cavers at the bar.

  “He’s just delayed,” said Joel grimly. “Any of you know where

  Mike, the caving store guy, lives?”

  There was a silence while they read the meaning of his question. “You want to go after Bryan? Is that it?” asked the caver. “Kind of late. What do you think, Deeter?”

  “Five days?” said Deeter, the other caver, a heavily bearded man who seemed to be always frowning. “Not good. That’s a long time to hold out.”

  “Especially if he’s hurt,” said the barkeep. “And what about hypothermia? Bill, you were a medic. You know about stuff like that.”

  “What’s hypo---thermia?” asked Joel. He’d heard of it but wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Your body wants to be a little over 96 degrees,” said Bill. “That’s normal. If your body temperature falls below 95 degrees, your brain doesn’t work right. That’s hypothermia. It happens if the air outside your body is colder than you are. Your body heat drains away. You get sluggish and maybe want to take your clothes off even if you feel cold.”

  Deeter thought this was pretty funny.

  “If your temperature falls below 86 degrees,” Bill went on, “your heart slows way down, your lungs don’t work right, and that’s when you start to die. It’s as simple as that.” He added: “It’s cold as hell in those caves—if you go deep.”

  Joel tried to imagine Bryan getting this cold. It frightened him and filled him with a new sense of urgency. He realized he needed to find his brother as soon as possible.

  “Forget this, Joel,” said the bartender. “Forget the whole idea. Mike’s taken off. Gone fishing for a couple of days.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Joel. “I’ve got to buy gear from him.”

  “You’ll never find him. He’s up country somewhere. One of the lakes.”

  The two cavers stared at Joel. “You don’t have any gear?” asked Deeter. There was the edge of a sneer in his voice. In fact, almost every time he talked, thought Joel, he seemed to hear that sneer.

  “I’ve got some,” said Joel. “Bryan had a lot in his room. I still need a light.”“

  “You sure do,” said Bill. “And what’s that? A bike helmet? You can’t go in like that.”

  “That windbreaker’s like nothing,” said the barkeep.” It’s a cave. It’s not just cold—it’s wet.”

  “You’re being stupid, kid,” said Deeter. “More than stupid.”

  “I don’t care,” said Joel. “I’m going in.”

  “Alone?” The bartender shook his head in disbelief.

  I can’t just leave him in there.”

  �
��This kid’s got a stubborn head,” said Deeter. “Does your family know you’re doing this?”

  Joel was silent. He was now at the bar’s candy machine, plugging in quarters to buy protein bars, candy bars, trail mixes--whatever was in there. He felt a bit silly as he stuffed them into his pockets, but he knew he’d need to eat something down there. The more portable the better—in case he was going to be a long time in the cave. Water, he knew, was no problem. The cave would have plenty. Most caves around there did.

  “I guess we better not ask,” said the bartender, shaking his head.

  “Come on, Amos, you wouldn’t let him do this if he was your kid,” said Deeter.

  “His folks know sort of, but they don’t really know,” JJ said Amos. “It was the same with me at his age. I never told my family what I was doing when I went caving.”

  Joel looked back at them. “Anybody coming with me?” he asked. Of course, he knew already none of them would. All three cocked their heads like they weren’t sure they’d heard aright what he was saying. Then, they all guffawed.

  “Joel, you’re making a big mistake,” said Amos.

  Bill stared long and hard at Bryan. “He’s acting as wacko as Roquefort. Well, almost.”

  “Roquefort?” said Amos. “That’s a cheese, aint it?”

  The caver smiled. “Yeah, it’s a cheese. A smelly one. It’s also the name