Page 45 of Talk Story

The main composition rode the curving wall to our right, the warrior with his raised spear, the rows of dots, the forked sweep of the ‘Iwa’s wings, all of it dim and ancient and watching in the light as we moved forward. And below the wall, in the lower area, wounds: pale rectangular scars where panels had been cut clean out of the rock, raw and bright-edged against the dark patina of virgin stone.

The wrongness of it hit me afresh—ancient letters to the world had been carried off into a warehouse in Kahului, their absence left behind like missing teeth.

“Stay to the right,” I murmured to Keone. “The floor drops on the left, near the back. Keep to the carved wall and we won’t trip into a hole.”

We moved forward in a careful line, Malia’s beam leading, the scarred panels sliding past us on the right, close enough to touch—but none of us daring to do so.

The temperature dropped further. The sound of the underground stream rose to meet us, steady and unhurried, growing from a trickle to a low constant rush as the ceiling lowered and the shadows thickened toward the back of the chamber.

“It’s going to get tight,” Keone said softly.

“Yes, going into the second chamber,” I confirmed. My voice came out hushed; the space did that to you. “The narrow passage is past this—where the water runs through. That’s our line. We don’t cross it.”

We arrived at the place where the second chamber pinched down to a black throat barely wide enough for one person. A stream poured black water over a lip of stone and into the slotlike doorway of the passage.

Malia’s beam shot into the hole and was swallowed—a few feet of wet rock, then nothing, then the steady silvery sound of liquid disappearing into a depth the light couldn’t reach.

Somewhere down in that throat, Victor Chang had fallen.

Malia crouched at the edge of the passage, careful to keep her boots clear of the line we’d agreed not to cross and cupped her hands. “Victor Chang! Maui Police! If you can hear me, call out!”

The cave drank the sound and gave it back without an echo.

But then—maybe—something came back. A groan? A sigh of air moving?

“I think I heard him,” Keone said. “Way in there.”

“Hold.” Malia keyed her radio, and now there was an urgency under the discipline. “Airship One, come back.”

“Airship One here.” Lei’s voice was thin and small, but distinct in spite of the layers of stone between us.

“We’re at the narrow passage, holding our line. We may have heard something but can’t confirm life. Where are you?”

“We’re at the north access point on the map,” Lei said. “We’re able to put the bird down here. It’s wider than your entrance. This is the route they used. There’s evidence of drag marks and rope anchors all down it. Give me a minute—someone’s approaching.”

The three of us exchanged surprised, apprehensive glances—who could that be?

A moment later, Lei’s radio crackled. “Trailhead Team, we have an ally.” Her voice had brightened. “’I’ve got Pali Moku here, and he’s carrying caving gear.”

I started but Keone grinned.

“Pali? How did he know about this op?” Malia asked.

“He arrived when we set down. Said he had a feeling today was when he’d—find what he’d been hunting for.”

“Has to be referring to the archive,” I whispered to Keone.

“He says he’s been mapping the tubes—the whole system. It’s a lot more extensive than the map shows.” Lei’s voice held something like grim hope. “Pali says he knows this section. He thinks he knows where a man would fall if he ran into the dark from your end without knowing where the floor gives out. We’re going to use him as a guide.”

“Copy that,” Malia said. “What about the protocols?”

“He has been observing them as he trains under Uncle Kalani.” Her transmission crackled with the scuff and shift of careful movement, boots on wet rock, the sounds riding in under her voice. “We’re good to go that way.”

Then came Pali’s voice, close to Lei’s radio, low and certain and carrying that deep calm that was a part of him even now: “There’s a drop about forty feet ahead of where you’re standing, Trailhead Team. A lava shelf that breaks off into a lower gallery. You can’t see it coming if you don’t know it’s there. If Chang went in from your side at a run, that’s where he is. We’ll be there soon.”

Even though the need to see what he was talking about and check if Chang was alive had ignited me with adrenaline and energy, I was glad we hadn’t stumbled into an abyss.

I stood at the edge of the forbidden passage, the cold stream running over the stone and moving between the three of us. Via the radio we listened to my fiancé’s childhood friend, along with Lei and another officer, move into the tunnel and head toward a fallen man—and I let myself hope, for the first time since we heard that scream, that it might not be too late after all.