Typhoon Island (9 page)

“And the waves,” added Callie.

They made their way toward the dark shape as quickly as they could and reached it just as night fell. Sure enough it was a wide cave that stretched back into the cliff.

“I don’t see the end of it,” Joe said, peering inside. “It’ll be a good place for us to dry off for a moment and catch our breath.”

“Sounds good,” Frank said. They cautiously moved inside.

The cave mouth was about thirteen feet tall, and wide enough so that all four of them could walk side by side. The floor and walls were smooth and slick with mist from the pounding surf. The tunnel led deep into the cliff, up away from the shore.

Venturing a short distance inside, they quickly
found relief from the rain, wind, and surf. The passage narrowed until the roof hung just over their heads, and they had to walk two by two.

The cave wound through the cliff face with no clear direction or purpose. Callie had a solar-charged penlight attached to a key chain on her belt. It didn’t give off enough light to be much use outdoors, but in the confined passage it proved sufficient. They decided to use its dim light to navigate, and save their flashlight for later.

They walked up the tunnel until it was dry, then took turns looking the other way while each wrung out his or her wet clothing.

“Too bad we don’t have anything to build a fire with,” Joe said. “This place would be pretty comfortable with a campfire going.”

“Let’s not move in just yet,” Frank said. “As soon as we’ve rested, we should try to get back to town.”

“I’m not looking forward to going out in that storm again,” said Iola.

“Maybe we won’t have to,” Callie said, brightening. “Remember the story Angela told us about old bootlegger caves running under the island and city? Maybe this is one of them. Maybe we could follow it back to town.”

“It’d have to be a really long cave,” Joe noted.

“It’s worth looking into,” Frank said. He stood and started hiking farther away from the cave entrance. The others followed.

They walked on an uphill slope for about ten minutes before the tunnel angled down once more. “Hang on,” Joe said, stopping. “Listen.”

They all stood quietly.

“I hear water,” Iola said.

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “That’s what I thought. It’s just leading us to the ocean again.”

“Let’s go back the way we came,” Frank said. “Following this tunnel when we don’t know where it comes out is probably riskier than hiking along the coast again. Maybe we can find a way up the cliff that we didn’t spot before.”

They all agreed and headed back toward the cave entrance. They quickly reached the tunnel’s high point and began angling toward the rocky beach once more.

A few moments later, though, a shocking sight greeted their eyes.

“The tunnel,” Callie said, gasping. “It’s filled with water!”

Frank hauled out the flashlight and turned it on to get a better look. Sure enough, water had completely filled the passage in front of the teens.

“But it was clear just a few minutes ago!” Iola said.

“The rising tide and the storm surge must have filled it up quickly,” Joe said. He shook his head angrily. “We should have been more careful!”

“There was no way we could have known,” Frank said. “Come on. Maybe the other end of the tunnel is still clear.”

“But we heard water at that end,” Callie said.

“It might come out into a different cove,” Frank said. “Storm surges are funny things; they can affect one bay and not the next. It all depends on
the shape of the island and which direction the storm is coming from.”

“I guess we can give it a try,” Iola said.

“We have no choice,” Joe added. “If we’re trapped, we’ll just have to hope we’ve got enough air in here to last out the storm.”

“And hope the tide doesn’t rise any higher,” Callie said.

“No sense worrying about it until we’ve checked the other end of the tunnel,” Frank said. He turned off the flashlight, and they all trekked up the passage by the dim glow of Callie’s penlight.

They quickly reached the downward slope they’d found earlier. They kept going until they heard sloshing water once more. Shortly after that they saw water on the tunnel floor. Frank went forward and tasted it. “Seawater,” he said. “I’d hoped it might be an underground spring.”

“That means the cave connects to the ocean again,” Callie said.

Frank flicked on their flashlight and shone it ahead of the group. “The tunnel looks like it opens up ahead,” he said. “Wait here while I take a look. There’s no sense in all of us getting wet again if we don’t have to.”

He climbed down the tunnel and waded into the brine. The cold water made Frank shiver. He held the flashlight above his head and out of the water as the liquid rose up to his waist.

Before him lay a large cavern filled with foamy saltwater. Oddly enough, a speedboat with a broken rope hanging off the prow floated in the middle of the strange underground lake. Frank saw no entrance in the cave big enough to admit the craft.

“You won’t believe what’s down here,” he called back to the others. “You know that stolen speedboat from yesterday? Well, we found it.”

“Beth Becker’s boat?” Iola asked.

“Yeah. There’s a big cave down here, and the boat’s floating in it.”

“Should we come down?” Joe called to him.

“Hang on a moment,” Frank said. He shone the light carefully around the cave’s perimeter until he found what he was looking for. “Yes!” he called. “The cave is pretty full of water, but there’s an exit on the far side.”

Joe, Iola, and Callie splashed into the cave behind Frank.

“Brr!
This water is cold!” Iola said.

“How did the stolen boat get in here?” Callie asked.

“There must be a seaward exit when the tide isn’t so high,” Joe said. “After they stole it, the pirates must have stashed the boat here.”

“Too bad we can’t drive the boat back to the hotel,” Iola said.

“With the sea so rough, we’d never make it,” Frank said. “The boat
is
a good sign, though.”

“How so?” Callie asked.

“Whoever stashed it here must have had a way out,” Joe said. “Maybe they went out the way they came in . . . but if this actually is an old bootlegger tunnel, they probably had another way out too. A dry-land exit.”

“On top of the cliff, you mean,” Iola said. “Well, what are we waiting for? Lets go!”

“Keep toward the edge of the pool and walk carefully,” Frank cautioned. “We don’t know how deep this water is.”

They moved quickly, but cautiously, across the open span of water to the cave exit. They stumbled a few times, but no one vanished into the brine. As they crossed the flooded cavern the water level kept rising. Frank’s initial observation proved correct: The new passage did lead up and out of the cave.

“I’m just really hoping this tunnel leads out to the cliff,” Joe said. He took the big flashlight from Frank and led the way.

They hiked until they were out of the water again, then switched back to Callie’s penlight to conserve their flashlight’s batteries. They also paused briefly to wring out their clothes again.

“I thought that a vacation meant taking a break from doing the wash!” Iola said, managing a smirk.

The water continued to rise quickly behind them, and it soon filled to the level of the cave’s roof.

“There’s no turning back now,” Callie said.

“For the water to rush in like that, the air has to be escaping from these caves somehow,” Joe said. “This tunnel seems to be the only possible way.”

“And the only way to find out is for us to keep going,” Frank noted.

Callie took the lead, to give Frank’s bruised ankles and Joe’s wounded shin a break.

They traveled up the winding tunnel until they could no longer hear the water rushing in behind them. The fact that they hadn’t run out of tunnel yet made them feel better, though this was mitigated somewhat by the fact that no end to the cave was in sight.

Exhausted, they finally decided to take a brief rest on a dry, flat stretch of the passage. They turned off their lights to conserve the batteries, and took turns keeping watch while the others slept.

They couldn’t be sure how long they’d slept, but they woke feeling slightly refreshed—though very cold.

“I don’t hear any water behind us,” Frank said as they got ready to hike again.

“And we haven’t run out of air yet,” Joe added. “That’s a good sign.”

“And I think we have
definitely
lost that sniper by now,” Callie said. The rest of them chuckled.

They walked among the dark shadows for a long time, seeing no light nor a way out. Callie’s penlight
finally gave out, and they switched over to the flashlight they’d taken from the Jeep.

They conserved the light when they could, turning it off when they were resting, or when the way ahead seemed straight and hazard free. Finally they came to a place where the passageway split in two.

“Too bad the bootleggers didn’t leave any signs telling us which way led to town,” Iola commented.

“The bootleggers knew the way,” Frank said, “and wanted to make sure that anyone following them
didn’t.”

“Have you noticed that both of these new passages are wet?” Joe asked.

“Yeah,” Frank replied.

“Does that mean that we’re headed down again and didn’t notice it?” Callie asked.

“I don’t think so,” Frank said. “The walls and ceiling are damp too. I think the water’s seeping down from the surface somehow.” He held his hand under a drop, caught it, and put it to his tongue. “It’s freshwater.”

“That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Iola asked. “We must be getting closer to a way out.”

“It could just be filtering through the rock,” Frank noted.

“Always the optimist!” Callie said, clearly frustrated. She gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

“Hey, Frank—the walls of this passage aren’t
damp,” Joe said, indicating the left-hand tunnel, “only the floor is.” He smiled. “I think the water is trickling in from the right-hand passage.”

“Good thinking, Joe,” Frank replied. “That makes the right-hand passage our best bet. The water needs to enter—and we need to exit.”

“Let’s go,” Iola said.

“Even being in a typhoon sounds good after being underground for so long,” Callie commented.

They trudged up the damp passage. It seemed to start steadily upward, but it was no straighter than any of the other paths they’d traversed. As they walked their flashlight began to dim.

“I don’t want to be trapped down here in total darkness,” Iola complained.

“Good news, then,” Joe said. “I think I see a light ahead.”

“There’s more water running down the tunnel floor, too,” Frank noted. “We must be getting close to the surface.”

Fifteen minutes later they reached a makeshift wooden door that covered the cave entrance. Cracks between the boards let weak daylight filter in from outside. A small but steady stream of water seeped under the door.

“The good news,” Joe said, peering through the cracks, “is that we’ve found a way out.”

“What’s the bad news?” Iola asked.

“I think the storm has gotten worse.”

“We must have been in the tunnels all night long,” Frank said, stepping up beside Joe. “It’s hard to tell with the storm, but I think it’s morning.”

They all could hear the sound of the typhoon raging outside. Joe opened the door and looked around. “The door is in an alcove at the side of the cave,” he said. “It’s kind of protected from the wind and the rain.”

“Maybe we should just stay here, then,” Callie said. “It seems safe enough.”

As she spoke the ground shook, and a cascade of rocks tumbled down from above the cave entrance.

“Only if being buried alive is your idea of fun,” Iola replied.

“Iola’s right,” Joe said. “The hurricane is making the cave entrance unstable.”

“There may be people out looking for us too,” Frank said. “We don’t want them wasting their time, or getting hurt on our account.”

Callie frowned. “You’re right,” she said. “I just hate to see any of
us
getting hurt either.”

“We’ll be careful,” Frank said, giving her a reassuring hug.

“As careful as anyone can be, roaming into a typhoon,” Joe added with a wink.

They adjusted their ponchos, made what few preparations they could, and turned toward the entrance. Another batch of rocks tumbled past the cave mouth just before they stepped out. They
hung back inside until the stones stopped falling, then quickly sprinted into the jungle.

The cave was part of a hillside and overlooked the ocean. Though it hardly seemed possible, the storm had grown worse since they first entered the tunnels. The sea was a sheet of white-capped waves. Thunder shook the hills with frightening regularity, and the rain fell in massive sheets.

“I think I see the hotel!” Joe called, shouting to be heard over the wind. He pointed to a white-and-green shape that loomed behind the storm-battered trees downhill.

“Thank goodness,” said Callie.

“It looks like we’ve come out somewhere below our cabins,” Frank said. “Come on, let’s go.”

Stumbling downhill through the drenched forest, they quickly found the trail that led from their cabins. This lower stretch wasn’t as washed out as the part they had traveled the previous day, so their journey became somewhat easier.

They climbed over downed trees and dodged falling branches and other debris. The wind and the rain made the trek difficult, but, nonetheless, they were all happy to be out in the open air once more.

Hope filled their hearts as they rounded the final bend of the road before the hotel. They began to sprint, knowing that safety was—at last—in sight.

Near Casa Bonita they suddenly stopped dead.
Rain lashed the hotel’s white-painted sides, and downed power lines writhed around its perimeter. Huge waves splashed over the beach seawall, threatening the hotel lobby. Black smoke leaked from the buildings upper floors.

Despite the wind and rain and surf, Casa Bonita was on fire.

For a moment, the four teens stood in stunned silence. Between the wind, the rain, the fire, and the sparking power lines, Casa Bonita—their shelter from the storm—had become a disaster area.