The Search for Macadamia, a Quest Most Noble

CHAPTER 5 - PERISH CAVERNS

The rank odor spilling from behind the boulder reminded Spencer of the previous summer. While he and his mom were away for a long weekend exploring slot canyons, a bag of raw chicken parts had rotted under their kitchen sink—someone had missed the trash can. Fresh from the kennel, an overly excited Evie found the bag and immediately spread it all over the kitchen floor.

That sharp memory and the foul air kept Spencer on the ground heaving until his empty stomach was emptier than it had ever been.

"It wasn't so bad that we missed breakfast and lunch," Evie said. "After all, you'd have just wasted it."

When he was done barfing, Spencer crawled toward some daylilies, ripped off their buds, wadded them into two makeshift plugs, and pushed them into his nostrils.

With the boulder dislodged, he was able to shove it farther from the hillside. Behind it, there was a man-sized hole excavated by skilled burrowers. Spencer lit the torch, and Evie gripped it in her jaw. Then he took out the sling and held a golf-ball-sized stone in its pouch. Two steps inside, he discovered the passage was steep and slick under his feet. He had to steady himself against the wall with at least one hand, leaving them vulnerable because a sling needs both hands to shoot. "Dang. I should've traded for a sword."

The tunnel leveled out and split into three passages. Spencer used the butt of his sling to carve an arrow into the dirt wall, pointing back the way they came in.

"We'll need more than direction reminders to make it out of here," Evie said.

Spencer reloaded his sling and pulled it back. Now he was ready. They chose the middle passage.

"Count your steps," Spencer said.

They crept along for a hundred and twenty-one steps when the passage opened into a cavern. He carved an arrow in the doorway to distinguish it from the four tunnels leading away. Spencer guessed the cavern was at least a hundred feet at its widest point and perhaps two hundred feet to the other end. It was too dark to see the ceiling, and the only sound he could hear was his heart beating.

Evie sniffed the rancid air breezing through the entrance of the next tunnel. Finding no nearby dangers, they entered and then, a hundred and thirty-nine steps later, encountered another split and carved another arrow. Again they chose the middle passage, which ended abruptly in a small cavern with a low ceiling. Chaotic torch shadows flickered and danced off rusty machinery.

"Look at this stuff—these beasts are intelligent," Spencer said. "We're close."

"How can you tell?" Evie gurgled from behind the torch.

Spencer took the torch and inspected a machine that served as the cavern's centerpiece. "Because machines are in cities."

"Farms use all kinds of scary machines," Evie unhelpfully countered.

"An underground farm?"

"Maybe they grow mushrooms."

"They eat people, not salads."

Spencer found pails of stones hanging from chains, which led to twisted wires snaking through pulleys, ending at shackles and leg irons, their claws open and waiting at the four corners of a bloodstained table.

"These are torture devices," Spencer said.

"What?"

"They don't just hunt."

Evie jumped on Spencer's leg. "That's it. We have to get out of here."

"No."

"We have to run. Use the arrows, find our way back to the forest!"