Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

She laughed, as if that was the most ridiculous question in the world. “No. My abuelo was the…” She searched for the word, finding it after a few steps. “Supervisor of the quarry.”

“How did you learn English?” Marcus inquired.

“It was owned by a British man. Father worked with English people like Mister Clayton, and teach me to speak.” She continued down, her footsteps sure and faster than mine.

Soon we were at the bottom of the quarry, and I peered up, witnessing nothing but a sheer cliff face greeting me. “When did it close?”

Marta waved us on, striding for the opposite edge. “Two decades. The owner left Father in charge, giving him the house. Now it’s mine. The owner never come back.”

It was over a mile wide, and we walked the next section in silence, my mind reeling from what we were potentially about to encounter. Marcus went ahead, chatting with Marta as I stayed a few steps behind, wondering how my dad had found Marta’s father in the first place. This woman and I were connected in a strange way by the relationship of our parents.

The sun had vacated the quarry, the last of the light climbing up the west cliff until we were in the dusk. Already it felt cooler, and I billowed my shirt, tugging it near my chest. A doorway came into view as we neared the rocky wall, a wooden entrance with supporting beams across the top.

“In there?” I asked, and she nodded.

Marta held a flashlight, and she flicked it on, the incandescent beam hitting the ground. A thick old padlock hung on a rusted hinge, and Marta pulled a key from a leather strap around her neck, using it to click the lock open. She removed it and tried to push the door but failed. “It is stuck.”

Marcus tried, and it shifted an inch.

We set our packs down, and I helped him, our hands close as we pulled with all our strength. It finally shifted enough for us to enter.

“If this door was that sticky, the entire room could be compromised,” Marcus warned me.

Marta shone her light into the dark space, and entered without hesitation. Marcus gaped at me, and I could only shrug, stepping into the cliffside room.

“They stored supplies,” Marta said, and I saw what she was referring to as the flashlight showcased the wall. There were a dozen shovels, pickaxes, and other various tools lined on hooks, but she kept moving past them all, heading for a secondary door. “The quarry had tunnels under it. Father say they are natural.”

I peered into the corridor, seeing dust fall from wooden braces. It looked like the bowels of a mine, and I cringed at the thought of walking under so many tons of rock. “Is it safe?”

“I think this here for millions of years.” She patted the wood with a palm and grinned. “These were added too.” She moved on, but I noticed Marcus hadn’t entered with me.

“Rex, I’ll stay. Guard the exit,” he said, picking up a shovel.

“Fine, but the next time we go into an abandoned quarry mine, it’s your turn.”

Marcus nodded noncommittally, and Marta was already far ahead; the only sign of her was the bobbing of the flashlight beam. I rushed to catch up, hoping to be in and out in a few minutes. That wasn’t the case. The corridor went on for a half-mile, and rocks blocked part of our path near the end.

Marta didn’t seem to care. She set the light on the floor and started moving boulders. I joined her, nervously gawking at the ceiling, and she climbed effortlessly, maneuvering the flashlight when we’d cleared a route. With a sigh, I landed across the pile where the corridor opened up.

The smell changed. It was damp, with heavy notes of metal. “What is this?”

“A lake.” She exited the tunnel and stopped, aiming her light at the water. It was calmly flowing, and I glanced up to find bats on the roof. I hated bats. Which was detrimental in my line of work, since they seemed to exist in every cave, cavern, and crawlspace I’d ever worked in.

The walls held an assortment of minerals, and they sparkled under the light. “I used to love it here. I was not allowed in, but I followed Father when he returned from his trip.” She paused, staring at the lake. “He walked into there. I heard him say a prayer, and I hid.” She motioned to an outcropping near the cavern wall behind us. “I had never seen him so afraid.”

“What is it? What did he dump here?” I asked Marta.

She shrugged. “I didn’t check. Don’t like water. Think there might be snakes.”

I flinched at the words, staring at the underground lake. “Your father put something in there? How far?”

“Not very. Ten feet.”

Ten feet. I could do that. “Where?” I started for the edge of the water, looking at the murky depths. I had no way of knowing how deep it was, and Marta helped with the flashlight, glancing at the tunnel entrance and back to the lake.

“Around here,” she said, pointing at the ground.

The last thing I wanted was to go in, but I didn’t have a choice. I slipped from my boots, removing my socks, and set my possessions on the rocky ground. “You’re certain of this?”

Marta nodded twice.

The water was warmer than I’d expected, but I still recoiled as my foot entered it. The rocks were slick below, and I nearly slid the moment both feet were in the lake. With a wave of my arms, I stayed balanced and took another step, then another.

I tentatively walked a few more yards and stopped, craning my neck to see Marta. It felt like something might have brushed by my leg, but I couldn’t be certain.

“There. Or close.”

I crouched, sticking my hands under the surface. It was past my knees, soaking the bottom hem of my shorts, and I felt around, gripping more stones.

I was about to give