Nine of Us
By Julian Denney
A loud clang reverberates off the walls as the gate is unlocked. It reminds me of a mailbox more than a gate; it’s roughly half a meter by half a meter, a preliminary test to ensure we’ll each fit through the tightest spots in the cave. I’m comfortably in the middle of the makeshift line, with four people ahead of me and three behind me. My only acquaintances in the group are Karyna and Graham, the two who insisted I come along for the experience in the first place. I know them well enough to ensure the entire caving expedition isn’t unbearable, though I’ve mostly been stuck to the sidelines of their conversations.
“Phones will be left up here. We’ll be doing headcounts after the rough spots in the cave to make sure we aren’t missing anybody. We’ve got a small group, so it shouldn’t be difficult to communicate from the front of the line to the back so long as everyone does their part right.”
I carefully set my phone in the backpack dedicated to holding essentials, tightening my laces as I nervously check over myself. My spare light is deep in my front pocket, my clothes are all zipped properly, and my helmet is secured properly; all is well. The headcount is quick, the guide counting in twos—eight people.
The entryway to the cave is far more sketchy than I’ve mentally prepared myself for. The skinny pathway parallels a chasm, the ledge a straight dropoff. Nobody’s died in here before, but my head’s telling me I might be the first. I follow along behind the guidance of the more experienced, keeping my gaze averted from the potential fall as I cross to the other side. The remaining three in our group passed over with significantly more ease than I. There’s another headcount before we continue—still eight. Same old, same old.
The ensuing trek is far less scary than the start; half of it is just like walking down a hallway, and any “squeezes” aren’t tight. Arrows guide us along the main path. There’s one area with another drop, but it turns out to be one of the many unmarked paths—not one we’ll need to take. While I’m thankful not to be going near it, it still emanates an eerie vibe to me; our headlamps struggle to penetrate the darkness, leaving the deeper parts of unexplored regions entirely encased in black.
The first rough spot shows up after eleven minutes. It’s a tight twist you have to take headfirst, making you turn sideways partway through to fit. We’re informed it’s the only route to a point of interest—some writings discovered in a recent expedition. The room’s small, only able to hold up to five people at a time. We’re separated, four and four, into groups; I opt to go in the latter.
The first group takes their sweet damn time getting in and out. It’s impossible to hear much of anything they’re doing in the adjacent chamber, but there are still occasional trickles of pebbles that echo from somewhere in its direction. Waiting feels like an eternity; it’s awkward. I don’t know the group I’m stuck with well enough to make good conversation, and it’s making me miss having music.
I’m just beginning to count the seconds to pass the time, or rather, to keep track of it when the sounds of people begin to grow closer again: stones and pebbles shifting with movement, hushed conversation, and the susurration of fabric. The guide emerges first, the other three quickly following after. Their conversations revolve around the cave paintings and writings—the intricacies and artistry, the remarkability of it all.
Contrary to my belief, they weren’t wrong. After hitting my head a few times trying to squeeze through the tunnel, the room that greets me is truly incredible for the presumed time period. We’d been informed that it was dated to be roughly 30,000 years old, but the scribbles seem far more purposeful than I’d anticipated to be possible. They take up every inch of possible space, with shockingly detailed drawings and incomprehensible writing covering even the stone overhead. Tracing my fingers over the pictograms, there seems to be a story embedded in each stroke; I can’t discern what each drawing means, but I can see the overlying theme. It’s not a welcoming one—there are religious overtones of spirits or revenants plaguing the caverns enveloping us. It’s unnerving, but nobody else seems put off by it. Rather, they all have the same excited ramblings of the first group—how incredible, amazing, beautiful, and so on the artwork was.
We exited the cave after a duration of observation, finally meeting back up with the rest of the group. As with the prior ones, the headcount only takes a few moments, our lead quietly muttering to keep track as he tallies us.
“Two, three.. five… nine. We’re all set. This next part up ahead is scarier than it looks, but it’s not half bad. I’ll be guiding you from below once I get to the bottom. Gottit?”
There are some murmurs of acknowledgment as we watch him lower himself into the hole, contorting his body awkwardly in some of the rougher spots. I shuffle to be further in the back, watching four people go before I finally work up the courage to make the descent myself. It’s tight, but not terrible; rocks jut out in a way that’s uncomfortable to get around, but they offer small seats to lean back on when I need a moment. A light beams on the rock below me as instructions continue to echo up at me. It only takes a minute for me to land down amidst the others.
The next three people are quick to get down, with the last one only taking half of the time I did. I still can’t place a name to any of their faces—my memory’s never been my strong suit. I find myself following behind Karyna and Graham, back in my spot in the middle. Four people in front of me, four behind. Despite the safety of the spot, I feel the hairs on my neck raise, a quietly building anxiety gnawing at me. It’s hard to place why; I’m not claustrophobic, and I managed the more treacherous sections of the cave fine thus far.
I shake off the feeling as we continue on. Eventually, the ceiling starts to noticeably slant down, making the space more cramped. I find myself having to duck, then crouch, then get to my hands and knees to continue on.
The guide speaks up as the ceiling gradually gets lower: “Tight spot ahead; flatten yourself to a commando crawl.”
Karyna and Graham both carry the words back to me, as we’d been instructed to do prior to entering the cave. I repeat it, continuing to send the message down the line.
“Tight spot ahead. Flatten yourself to a commando crawl.”
The person behind me echoes it to whoever’s behind them, but it stops there. I strain my hearing to ensure I’m not just missing it, but I’m not; the only sounds are labored breathing and the shuffle of our slow progression forward. There are still at least three people behind them who should’ve repeated the phrase. I struggle to crane my neck, casting a glance behind me. My helmet knocks against the nearest wall as I do.
I avoid eye contact with those behind me as I tally. I was right; there’s five people behind me in total. I realize I’m staring, but continue straining my memory to try and put a name to each face I see. Her name’s something with a T… maybe Teagan. The back should be Jayce. The other two were siblings, I think. They’re both in front of him. Who’s the fifth?
I struggle to glimpse their face; they’re just behind Teagan. I finally process the nasty look she’d been giving me as we accidentally lock gazes. Shit, I look weird.
“Um… did, uh,” I struggle again to try and recall their name, “the—er, the person behind you tell the other three? I didn’t hear it.”
She rolled her eyes at my paranoia, repeating the words louder. “Tight spot ahead, flatten yourself to a commando crawl. There, everyone’s heard it now. Keep moving.”
I grimace inwardly as I turn my focus back forward, continuing on. The message continued back this time, though it seemed to skip straight to the first of the siblings before finally reaching the back. The tunnel’s tight enough that if I were to push up from my elbows, my shoulders would scrape against the roof. It’s enough to make me question how accurate my judgment of not being claustrophobic was.
Finally, we reach the other side, the cavern before us being illuminated by our headlamps. It’s not huge by any means; it resembles a wide fissure more than a cave. Regardless, it’s refreshing to be able to stand upright. As the rest of the group gathers back up, there’s another headcount. Nine people. I find myself studying each of their faces once again, this time with much more ease: Teagan, twins, Jayce, Karyna, Graham, and the guide. Finally, my eyes fall on the last remaining person; I still can’t figure out their name. They stick out from the group, but none of the others seem to notice. They’re pale and gaunt; their limbs almost look too long. Their eyes look lifeless. I find myself averting my gaze from theirs. Though nothing’s outright threatening about their appearance, they’re still unnerving. The moment I look away, I can feel their gaze fall on me—like they’re studying me in the way I had just been observing them. It’s eerie.
Subconsciously, or so I tell myself, I wind up behind them in our lineup—despite the fact that it distances me from the only people I really know. It feels uncomfortable to be in front of them, like turning your back to a big cat.
I find myself gravitating further and further back in the line, putting as much distance as possible between me and whoever it is. Even at the tail end of the group, I’m still on edge. My steps are faltering, my pace is slowing—I’m falling behind everyone else. I can still see everyone ahead of me well enough, but I’m relying on the contrast of their lights against their silhouettes. My nerves aren’t gone, but they are soothed; the further away I am from the ninth, the better. I know it’s counterintuitive, but as long as I can still follow their tracks and leave, I don’t care. I’m going off my gut more than common sense, and I know it.
My light flickers. It’s only for a split second, but it still makes my heart seize. My step stutters, and I stumble, barely catching myself. I reach out a hand to press against the rough, cool rock. I continue to trace along it as I quicken my pace to be closer to the group once again, using their faraway lights and the wall as a guide. Fine dust finds its way into the creases of my trembling fingers and embeds itself in the scratches on my hand.
My view is obscured momentarily by a boulder jutting out of the rock face, my dimming light illuminating its crevices and ridges as I maneuver around it. By the time I reach the other side, there are no longer lights ahead of me. The path leads to a small drop, only a foot or so down, but the ensuing tunnel seems to split off at the end. One path, another chamber going further down, and the other a continuation of the fissure I’m walking along. I linger for a moment, glancing between the two. There’s no way the group all could’ve made it down within that small of a timeframe.
Despite the lack of arrows to guide me, I trust in my own logic, continuing down the passageway in front of me. I can’t hear anything besides my own quick breaths and footfalls—no chatter of the group, no instructions being given, not even the sound of other people’s walking. It’s eerie.
By the time I realize I’m lost, it’s already too late to retrace my steps. My memory’s failing me, and there’s been nothing to mark the path. It’s all just the same colors, the same textures, and the same rough surfaces around me. It blends together after a while. I think I’m starting to make up sounds to soothe myself—to prove there are still other people in here. I continue along the path, going off the stray hope that it’s the way out. How long would it take for a rescue expedition to find me in here? I’m freaking myself out; God, that’s a habit I need to grow out of.
The ceiling starts to arch overhead, and I find myself standing underneath a chasm similar to what I’d previously passed over. It makes me feel small. The bottom of the arc sits at nearly twice my height, and I can barely make out where the ceiling is above it—my light hardly grazes it. It almost seems to loom over me. I bring my attention back down to my own level and finally begin to continue in my strides forward. I realize now that my light is without a doubt dying. Each step is hesitant, like there’s a chance the rock will give way and I’ll be lost forever. There still hasn’t been a single arrow.
The sound of falling stones echoes around me. It strikes me that it’s the first sign of life in a while, and I can’t figure out whether to praise God or pray. I quicken my pace, tripping over my own feet as I struggle to evenly divide my focus between the ground in front of me and the sounds from somewhere around me. It’s like an echo chamber; I can’t pinpoint where the sounds are coming from. The ground deteriorates the further I get on the path, rocks and pebbles chipping from my stride. I realize I’m shaking.
My light begins to flicker in time with my quickened breathing. I can’t tell if the pebbles tumbling are from my shaky footfalls or somewhere behind me until one lightly knocks against my helmet from trickling off the slope above. I continue my confused stumble forward, looking for any arrows to guide me back to the exit. There are more rocks falling behind me; I think I can hear the footfalls accompanying them now. The periods of darkness are starting to elongate. I fumble between my back pockets, then the front. I can’t find my second light. My main one cuts off for what feels like an eternity this time; the sounds of skittering pick up as I try to hit the damn thing hard enough to turn it back on. All sound halts as it flickers back. My shaky hands reach up to fumble with it, inadvertently covering it further. My vision struggles to adjust to the darkness. I think something just touched my arm. Finally, by the grace of God, I get it on again.
Just inches away from my face, lifeless eyes bore into mine. I think my heart stops beating for a moment. There’s no sound. There’s no breath against me. It’s not even breathing. The person, thing, or whatever it is, doesn’t breathe. It doesn’t even blink.
It’s holding perfectly still, while I’m trembling like a leaf. The thrum of my heartbeat returning makes me jolt, faltering backward. Its eyes don’t leave me. It doesn’t even try to move to follow me.
My light dims threateningly again, and I open my mouth to try and stutter out something, but nothing comes. Darkness coats everything as my light dies. An immediate scuttle of movement makes me freeze.
Something just grabbed me.
I don’t think they’ll be able to f
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