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Mysteries in Our National Parks: Running Scared: A Mystery in Carlsbad Caverns National Park
Gloria Skurzynski
Alane Ferguson
National Geographic Kids
Jack and Ashley’s search for eight-year-old Sammy has left them hopelessly lost in a twisted maze of tunnels deep inside Carlsbad Caverns.Bats are everywhere, and the echoes of their screeching cries sends a chill through the trio. The only light is the candle in their lantern. What will happen when it burns out, leaving them in total darkness?From the Paperback edition.
RUNNING SCARED
A MYSTERY IN CARLSBAD CAVERNS NATIONAL PARK
GLORIA SKURZYNSKI AND ALANE FERGUSON
To Tom “Boomer” Bemis,
a true hero and an inspiring role model
Text copyright В© 2002 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson
Cover illustration copyright В© 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat
All rights reserved.
Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.
Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps
Map research and production by Joseph F. Ochlak and Equator Graphics
Mexican free-tailed bat art by Joan Wolbier
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Skurzynski, Gloria.
Running scared / Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #11)
Summary: While lost in a tunnel at Carlsbad Cavern, thirteen-year-old Jack, eleven-year-old Ashley, and their eight-year-old foster brother, Sam, think bats and darkness are their worst problems, until they stumble across thieves.
ISBN: 978-1-4263-0974-8
[1. Lost children—Fiction. 2. Bats—Fiction.
3. Carlsbad Caverns National Park (N.M.)—Fiction. 4. Foster home care—Fiction.
5. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.]
I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.
PZ7.S6287 Ru 2002
[Fic]—dc21
2002005277
Version: 2017-07-07
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The authors are grateful to those at
Carlsbad Caverns National Park who shared
information and their expertise with us, especially Bob Hoff,
Park Historian;
Myra Barnes, Wildlife Biologist;
Stan Allison, Cave Resource Specialist;
David Roemer, Biologist;
Laura Denny, Park Ranger, Law Enforcement Division; Stacey
Haney, Park Ranger,
Interpretive Division;
and of course Tom Bemis
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
AFTERWORD
ABOUT THE AUTHORS (#litres_trial_promo)
The light from his head-lantern cast deep shadows along the cave walls. Ink-black phantoms seemed to dance across formations like evil spirits, but the man wasn’t afraid. Nothing scared him, except, perhaps, the thought of running out of money. Well, he didn’t have to worry about that, not now. His flashlight felt heavy in his hand as he aimed it at the delicate cave balloon, as fragile and translucent as a soap bubble. It always amazed him what people would pay for a tiny thing like this. He’d have to give part of the payoff to the rock surgeon, but he’d pocket the rest. Easy money.
It was then that he heard the sound.
“You hear that?” he demanded.
Ryan looked up, the blade of his tool glinting in the lamplight. “Hear what? Hey, the Hodags got you spooked? You know, we’re pretty deep in the belly of the cave, all alone in the bowels of the Earth. Legend has it that when the Hodags slither out from their hiding places to—”
“Just shut up and get back to work,” the man snapped. “I’ll tell you one thing—I learned a long time ago to make sure there ain’t no witnesses. If a Hodag-thing is down here, watchin’ what we’re doing, I’ll kill him dead.”
“Yeah. I’m sure you would.” Ryan just shook his head.
CHAPTER ONE
“I can’t wait! How much longer until it happens?” Ashley asked, squinting into the desert sky streaked orange by the setting sun. In front of them, the cave entrance loomed large and dark, like a gigantic, yawning mouth. Jack tried not to notice the pungent odor that wafted from Carlsbad Cavern and concentrated instead on adjusting his camera lens, focusing in, then out. Hundreds of park visitors were seated in the stone amphitheater, watching, pointing, waiting for the first wave of bats to spiral out of the entrance. Shifting to get a better view, Jack snapped a picture of cactus that seemed to bubble up from the rock itself. Perfect. With the play between light and shadow, he knew he could get some real quality shots.
“Hey, save some film for the bat flight,” his sister, Ashley, told him.
“I will. I’ve got another roll.”
“Aren’t you excited for them to come out? ’Cause you don’t look too excited.”
“I’m excited,” Jack answered, zooming in on a rock squirrel.
Leaning back on her elbows, Ashley cocked her head and gave him a knowing look. The amphitheater benches were deep, almost three feet of stone and concrete still warm from baking in the day’s sun. With her head tilted that way, Ashley’s dark braids curled like question marks. “Come on, Jack, admit it. No matter what the rangers say, you’re still afraid of bats. You think the bats’ll suck your blood and leave you shriveled up like a raisin.” Pointing a finger, she said, “Remember how you used to try to scare me every time we went camping? You’d say bats always go for girls with long, curly hair. But it was really you who was scared.”
“No way!” Jack snorted. Now that she was 11, Ashley had a little more attitude, but, being two years older, Jack could handle it. Turning to their newest temporary foster child, Jack said, “Sammy, you’ve got to ignore all this blood-sucking stuff. You heard the ranger. The only blood-sucking bats live far, far away from here. The ones in Carlsbad are Mexican free-tailed bats. Free-tailed bats eat tons of bugs, so they’re good bats,” Jack declared. “And I was never afraid of any bats.”
“Liar,” Ashley laughed. “So who do you think is telling the truth, Sammy? Me, or my mean brother, who used to terrify me with spooky stories when he was really the one who was scared?”
Ducking his round, blond head, Sam whispered, “I d-d-don’t know.” He began to fidget with the end of his dirty shoelace so that, Jack guessed, he wouldn’t have to look at either one of them. Although he’d been with their family for three weeks, Sam still didn’t know the Landons well enough to understand the way Jack and Ashley teased. Well, from what Ms. Lopez, Sam’s social worker, had told them, there hadn’t been much in the boy’s life to laugh about. That was why Jack’s mother and father were glad Sam could go with them all the way to New Mexico to see the magnificent cavern of Carlsbad. “If anyone deserves a break,” Jack’s father, Steven, had said, “it’s this kid.”
Jack looked up to see a watery moon appear like a ghost in the sky, faint and silvery in the twilight. The clouds seemed to blaze even brighter as the last rays of sun set them on fire. If the bats flew out soon, Jack would have a perfect canvas to frame them. Focusing his lens, he snapped a picture of the clouds, double-checking that his flash was off. The ranger had instructed all of the visitors to turn off their camera flash attachments, since the sound from a flash—even though humans didn’t notice it—might throw off the bats’ sensitive navigation system.
Barely tapping his shoe with the edge of his worn sneaker, Sam looked at Jack with large eyes. His hair was clipped ragged, as if he’d trimmed it himself. But what kind of eight-year-old would cut his own hair? Not anyone who lived in the Landons’ Jackson Hole neighborhood, where all the kids had their own bikes and computers and enough money in their pockets to buy fast food whenever they wanted. Although Sam hadn’t told them much about his life, Jack could tell he came from a different world, a world Jack was glad he didn’t live in.
“So J-Jack, you’re not really s-c-c-ared? Of the b-b-bats?”
“Nah. Ashley and me, we’re just kidding around. Don’t take us seriously.”
“OK. I’m not s-s-scared, either.”
Mmmm, maybe not of the bats, Jack thought. But ever since they’d had him, Sam had seemed, if not frightened, at least nervous all the time. Did some unknown fear make Sam stutter the way he did? The poor kid couldn’t get out two words without stuttering. Sometimes he’d start to say something and then just give up, as though whatever he’d wanted to say simply wasn’t worth the struggle to force it out. Ms. Lopez had said that although Sam’s school grades were poor because of his stuttering problem, inside he was really a bright little boy.
Just then Ashley grabbed Jack’s arm and pointed excitedly at a small black object streaking by. “Is that one? Quick—take a picture! It’s right there—see?”
“Duh. That’s a cave swallow,” Jack replied. “It has a beak. Bird—beak. Bat—ugly gargoyle face. Get the difference?”
“If you call them ugly, they’ll hear you and stay there in the cave all night and they’ll never come out,” she declared.
“Honest?” Sam worried.
Jack assured him, “No, Sammy, Ashley was only joking again.”
“But we’ve been waiting an awful long time,” Ashley said, sighing. “Mom, do you think they’re ever going to come out of the cave?”
“Hmm?” their mother, Olivia, murmured, barely looking up from a stack of papers. A yellow highlighter was poised in her hand, and every few minutes she underlined a sentence or bracketed a paragraph until the paper seemed to glow neon. A wildlife veterinarian, Olivia Landon had come to New Mexico to study the decline in the number of bats occupying Carlsbad Cavern. Mountains of scientific papers had been faxed to her before they’d left their home in Wyoming, which meant that for the entire trip on the plane, she’d been nose-deep in study. Jack had never seen her read so much so furiously.
“Earth to Mom,” Ashley cried, cupping her hands around her mouth. “You’re the expert. Do bats ever stay inside the cavern and just skip a night? Because I think that might be what they’re doing here.”
Looking up, Olivia blinked. “Skip? Oh, no. Don’t worry, sweetheart, they’ll fly. You just have to be patient. Remember, bats are wild animals, not a circus act trained to appear on cue.” Taking off her reading glasses, Olivia rubbed the bridge of her nose. “What makes them swarm is one of the great bat mysteries. Even the latest research—” she tapped her glasses onto the paper—“even this can’t explain why they fly out the way they do or why they choose the particular moment they decide to emerge.”
Olivia’s dark, curly hair had been pushed up under a baseball cap, although strands escaped in tendrils that wound past her shoulders. Her hiking boots, scarred from years of climbing over rough terrain, were the same tan as her legs. Ashley was a smaller version of Olivia, with the identical olive skin that just grew darker throughout the summer. It was Jack and his father who had to slather on sunscreen or risk burning to a crisp. Jack, Steven, and now Sam, who shared their fair coloring.
“By the way,” Olivia said, “can any of you kids see where your dad’s gone off to?”
Scanning the crowd, Jack looked for a tall, blond head, but it was useless. So many people had crowded together on the benches that it seemed as though a giant handful of confetti had been tossed into the amphitheater. He was about to say that there was no way anyone could spot
anyone in that place when Sammy announced, “He’s over th-there, with that r-ranger.”
“Way to go, Sammy! Could you go get him for me?” Olivia asked. “He’s not too far from here. I’ll watch you the whole time.”
Sam shook his head no.
“OK, how about if Ashley goes with you. Would that be all right?”
Without answering, Sam nodded. Following Ashley, he made his way toward the ramp, his sturdy legs pumping hard to stay right behind Ashley as he climbed the stone steps.
“At least Sam went with Ashley,” Olivia said to Jack. “He’s becoming far too dependent on you, Jack.”
“Hey, Sam’s OK,” Jack countered. “He’s doing better.”
“Better with you,” Olivia reminded him. “Not better with your dad or Ashley or me. You’re the only one out of all of us he feels really safe with.”
That much was true, and all of the Landons knew it. When Ms. Lopez had arrived with Sam, he’d clung to her, big-eyed and silent.
“Sam, remember what we talked about,” Ms. Lopez had said in her gentlest voice. “Since your mother is so sick, the Landons are going to take care of you, just until your own mom gets better.”
“Hi, Sam,” Olivia had said. Bending down to eye level, she’d reached out her hand, but Sam had shrunk back behind Ms. Lopez’s green dress until only half of his body could be seen. Ms. Lopez shot them all a concerned look as she gently pulled Sam forward, saying, “This is Steven. And this is Ashley.” Sam tried to slip behind her again, but she held him firm, her scarlet nails pressed into his shoulders. “Now I want you to meet Jack. My, would you look at that!” Ms. Lopez broke into a warm smile. “Do you see it? You two could pass for brothers. Same blond hair and blue eyes, and the same chin. An amazing resemblance, don’t you think?”
Since Jack didn’t know what to do, he said the first lame thing that popped into his mind. “Yeah, I guess we do look alike. So Sam, how ’bout if I call you Mini-Me.”
He could hardly believe it when the barest smile crept across Sam’s face. The boy’s lids had fluttered up, revealing light blue eyes the color of a robin’s egg. He really was cute, with his pale blond hair and moon-shaped face. Encouraged, Jack said, “Hey, Sam, I was in the Everglades a while back, and I shot a picture of an alligator eating a turtle. Would you like to see it?”
It took a moment for Sam to respond. Finally, he gave a slight nod, edging to the front of Ms. Lopez.
“Jack,” Olivia broke in, flashing him a look, “maybe that picture isn’t the right one to show him. It’s a little…graphic.”
Jack was about to answer when Sam gave a tortured, “I don’t c-c-care. I want to see the t-t-turtle.”
Although they’d been warned Sam was a stutterer, Jack wasn’t prepared for how hard Sam had to work to get those words past his lips. Sam’s whole face flushed as he looked back at the floor, the color deepening as it spread down his neck like a red stain. Pretending that he didn’t notice, Jack said, “Tell you what, I’ll show you my camera and teach you how it works.”
“You m-m-mean I can try the c-c-camera?”
“Sure. Just don’t break it or anything.”
That had been the start. And now, three weeks later, Sam seemed to be more attached to Jack than ever. He followed Jack’s every move, as if the two of them were pedals on a bike that worked in tandem. And Jack didn’t really mind. It was nice finding out what it would have been like to have a brother. Although having a sister was fine, a brother definitely would have been different. Sam had dived into the box of Tonka trucks Jack kept in the back of his closet for old times’ sake; he never got tired of shuffling through Jack’s football cards or leafing through Jack’s photography magazines; and he seemed fascinated by Jack’s pictures, taking a roll of passable shots of his own. Although he didn’t say much, Jack could tell how much Sam liked him. There were worse things than sharing a house with this kid.
Now, as Sam and Steven and Ashley returned to their seats, Jack realized the crowd was buzzing. Somewhere behind them a cell phone played a tune but was quickly silenced as the anticipation grew. And then, as suddenly as a puff of smoke, the first bats emerged to a loud ooohhhh from the crowd. They spiraled out of the cavern’s mouth, past its rock lip and up into the sky like a whirling coil. Sam watched wide-eyed, his neck rolled back, his mouth slightly ajar, fists clenched.
“You OK?” Jack asked, wondering if the bats might scare Sam.
“Uh-huh. Are y-you?”
“Who, me? Yeah, sure. Of course.” Why did Sam ask that? Jack knew that he was quite safe as the creatures streaked overhead like tiny black missiles, guided by their perfect sonar system. They were not going to land in anyone’s hair—that was only a myth.
Never would he admit it to Ashley, but something deep inside Jack chilled at the thought of what was erupting from the cave’s inky blackness. That explosion of almost half a million swarming bats, hundreds of thousands of bizarre-looking creatures mushrooming from the depths of that enormous cavern, really did make his pulse rate rise. Jack pictured what it would be like to descend into one of the smaller caves in the vast network of Carlsbad Caverns. The Big Room wouldn’t bother him, he knew that, not with its gigantic spaces and spectacular formations and columns. But the thought of some of those smaller, tighter, more confined spaces, dark as pitch and bristling with bats, made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Sam had seen a map of the hidden rooms that snaked though the cavern, and in his halting way he’d begged Jack to take him on the deeper trails, one called Left Hand Tunnel. Well, it couldn’t happen before tomorrow, so there was no use worrying about it now. But how could Jack explain to an eight-year-old that the idea of a narrow, deep, dark tunnel full of bats left Jack less than enthusiastic? Sam’s life had already spooked him enough as it was. No, let him believe Jack wasn’t afraid of anything. He didn’t need Jack’s fears to add to his own pile.
More bats began to wheel up and out in a clockwise formation until it looked as though a column of smoke rose from an abyss. They came in bursts of black, fits and starts of bats, hundreds of them, thousands of them. In the dusk, he could see Sam watching, riveted and fascinated. Jack shook his head in amazement. After three weeks with the Landons, Sam still wouldn’t say ten words to Olivia or Steven or Ashley, and yet, when faced with bats and caves, he didn’t act scared at all. Only people seemed to frighten him.
“I want to g-go in there. T-t-tomorrow. You’re g-going to t-take me, right?”
“To the Big Room? Sure. That’s the most famous room in the cavern. You’ll really like it.”
“No. Not th-there.”
“Why not?” Jack protested. “Sammy, come on, the Big Room’s really cool!”
Sam shook his head slowly, stubbornly, and said, “No. The tunnel.”
What was it about the tunnel? What made Sam want to crawl into a narrow, dark place beneath the earth? As more bats whizzed overhead, Jack thought back over the few facts his parents had shared about Sam’s life. He lived in a rough neighborhood an hour’s drive from Jackson Hole. His father was a mystery—the Landons didn’t know what had happened to him, except that he was gone from Sammy’s life. His mother had overdosed on drugs and was now in jail, and Sam had no other relative to take him.
The kid had faced a lot and asked for little. Jack had a lot and asked for more. When he thought about it, he knew there was no way he could turn down Sammy’s request. Anyway, Jack was Sammy’s hero, and a hero shouldn’t look like a wimp.
No longer hesitating, Jack answered, “OK, Mini-Me, let’s do it. Tomorrow. If it’s OK with Mom and Dad and Ashley.”
Sam didn’t say a word. In the dim light, Jack could see him smile.
CHAPTER TWO
Come on, kids,” Steven said. “Get moving, or we’ll be late for our appointment with the bat woman.”
“B-b-bat woman?” Sam asked. “Like in the movies?” When Jack burst out laughing, Ashley gave a sharp yank on his arm and pulled him back to whisper in his ear, “Stop that! Sammy will think you’re laughing at his stammer.”
“I’m not!” Jack protested, but Ashley only hissed at him, “Show some sensitivity!”
“OK.” Making sure his expression was serious, Jack leaned down to tell Sam, “There’s no Bat Woman in the movies. There’s Batman and Batgirl and Catwoman, but no Bat Woman. What my dad meant was that we’re going to see a naturalist who knows everything about bats, and she happens to be a woman.”
“That’s right,” Olivia added, “and you kids are really lucky to get to meet Dr. Rhodes. She’s a world-renowned expert on bats.”
Ashley sighed and said, “I know we’re lucky, and I really want to hear all about bats, but when do we get to go inside the cavern? I thought we were supposed to do that this morning.”
They’d reached the bottom of some stairs that led to the door of a building made of limestone blocks. Peering through the window glass in the front door, Olivia answered, “Your dad will take you there after we see the bat woman—whoops!” Blushing, she said, “Now you’ve got me doing it, Sammy. I hope I don’t call her that by mistake—it would be an embarrassing way to meet her. Anyway, after you kids and your dad leave Dr. Rhodes’s office, I’ll stay with her to learn more about the bats.”
“So let’s get started,” Steven suggested, leaning across Olivia to push the door wide. While he held it open, the three short ones—Olivia, Ashley, and Sam walked under Steven’s extended arm into the corridor. Jack was now too tall to fit under his father’s arm, and he liked that. With every inch he grew, he felt a bit more grown-up. He figured that one of these years he might actually outgrow his father, who was nearly six feet four.
“Come in, come in!” Dr. Rhodes welcomed them. For a world expert, she had a small office, Jack thought, and only three chairs.
“The kids can sit on the floor,” Steven quickly offered. “These two are our kids—Jack and Ashley—and Sam Sexton is our guest.”
Guest. That was the word the Landons liked to use for the short-term foster kids who stayed with them from time to time, kids who needed a safe place to live until their problems could be solved.
“Pleased to m-meet you,” Sam said, hardly stuttering as he took the hand Dr. Rhodes held out to him.
“How are you, Sam?” Smiling warmly, Dr. Rhodes told him, “You sit here, closest to my chair, so you’ll have the best look at the pictures I’m going to show everyone.” Jack wondered whether his mother had clued Dr. Rhodes in on Sam’s background. Or maybe Dr. Rhodes was just naturally nice to small kids.
“Well,” she said, “let’s start. Your mom said you wanted to hear about bats. The first things I’m going to tell you are what bats are not!” She laughed a little, then went on, “They’re not birds, and they’re not blind, although they are color-blind. They don’t get tangled in people’s hair, and they don’t suck blood—well, actually, three species do drink blood, but those species don’t live anywhere near here.”
Ashley’s hand flew to her neck. “Where do they live?” she asked quickly.
“In our hemisphere, they’re in Mexico, Central America, and South America. But less than one percent of the world’s bats are vampire bats, and two of the vampire bat species feed only on birds. The third species prefers mammals, but Ashley, you don’t have to worry about your neck. They’re more likely to go after your toes.”
Sammy’s eyes had grown wide.
“Nothing to be afraid of, Sam,” Dr. Rhodes told him. “The Mexican free-tailed bats, the kind we mostly have around here, eat only bugs.” She held up a picture of a brown, fuzzy bat with hooded eyes, rounded ears, and wings folded like fans. “They’re wonderful animals. To me, they look like little gnomes. They’re mammals, you know, which means the mothers nurse their pups—that’s what the babies are called. Pups. Did you know that?”
All three kids shook their heads. “So now there are three animals I know of that have pups,” Ashley announced. “Dogs, wolves, and bats. I learned about the wolves in Yellowstone National Park.”
Jack got a mental image of a gnomelike mamma bat with her wings wrapped around a little gnome-faced pup. “How do the mothers hold them?” he asked. “I mean, they hang upside down, don’t they? How do they keep from dropping the pups?”
Dr. Rhodes answered, “It’s the babies that hold on to the mother, with their feet and their thumbs and their tiny teeth. Like you kids, little bats lose their baby teeth after a while and get grown-up teeth. When the mothers leave to get their nightly meal of insects, the baby bats hang by their toes on the walls and ceilings of the caves, packed so tightly together that there can be 400 of them in a one-square-foot area. Think of that.” Dr. Rhodes opened her desk drawer and took out a ruler. “Twelve inches on each side of a square, and 400 bat babies all squeezed together into that little space. That closeness keeps them warm, because a cave is kind of cold.” She threw the ruler back into the drawer, then held up another photo that showed bats clustered together so tightly they looked like ink blots on a gray cave ceiling.
“Wow!” Ashley exclaimed. “How do the mothers ever find their babies in all that crowd?”
“Good question, Ashley. By smell and by sound. Even though a hundred thousand pups get born in the spring, a mother can pick out her own infant—she has only one baby a year. Both mother and pup make these high-pitched sounds that people can’t hear but the bats can. It guides them to each other. That same high-frequency echolocation guides them when they go outside the cave, too. It tells them where the insects are.”
Dr. Rhodes winced a little, then reached down to pick up an empty wastebasket. After she turned it upside down, she carefully placed her left foot on top of it. An elastic bandage had been wrapped around her ankle. “A sprain,” she explained when she saw the Landons looking at it. “I tried to take a shortcut down a slippery slope, and I twisted my ankle.”
“Does it hurt?” Olivia asked. “Yes, of course it must hurt. The kids shouldn’t be taking up any more of your time, Dr. Rhodes.”
“Oh, it doesn’t hurt me that much,” she answered. “It’s fun to talk to kids; I enjoy it. Anyway, I’ll just end this little session with a few more bat facts. Like this one—bats’ knees bend backward, not forward like yours.” She pointed to Sam, whose knees were tucked under his chin. Ashley looked thoughtfully at her own knees, probably wondering how it would feel if they bent backward.
“And bats have been around for 50 million years,” Dr. Rhodes went on. “We know that from finding fossils that old. But most of all, I want you to remember that bats are intelligent creatures and tremendously useful ecologically. If there are 400,000 bats flying out of Carlsbad Cavern every night eating bugs, can you imagine how many tons of bugs that makes in a month? In a year?
That’s a tremendous help to farmers.”
“How much can each bat eat?” Jack asked.
“Considering the size of a bat, quite a lot. A nursing female will leave her baby tucked nice and warm with the other pups in the �bat nursery,’ then fly out into the night to eat her entire body weight—about 12 or 13 grams—in insects. Then she’ll return to her baby, nurse it again, and maybe fly out a second time in a single night to eat that many bugs all over again. Then back to her baby. She never leaves her baby for long. She’s a gentle, caring mother.”
Sam, who’d seemed fascinated by Dr. Rhodes’s lesson, suddenly looked as though he were about to cry. Maybe it was the mention of “a gentle, caring mother,” which Sam didn’t have. Steven must have noticed Sam’s sad expression too, because he stood up and said, “I guess we’d better get going. I told the kids I’d take them into the cavern. Sammy’s really anxious to see Left Hand Tunnel.”
“Left Hand Tunnel? Two different species of bats live there,” Dr. Rhodes said, “the cave myotis and the fringed myotis. Both species are quite rare. We’ve counted only 354 of the cave myotis and only 12 of the fringed myotis.”
Well, Jack thought, at least that particular tunnel wouldn’t be teeming with countless thousands of bats. He felt a little relieved.
“I hope I get to see those rare bats,” Steven told her. “I’m really anxious to shoot some pictures like the ones you just showed us.”
“Steven is a photographer,” Olivia explained.
“Oh.” Dr. Rhodes hesitated, then said, “Well, you understand, Mr. Landon, that you’ll have to use infrared film in the caves.”
“Uh…no! I knew I couldn’t use the flash attachment when the bats were flying out of the cavern because it interferes with their echolocation system—their sonar.
But I figured that when they weren’t flying, when they’re just hanging in the caves, I could use my regular flash attachment with fast film.”
“Uh-uh.” Dr. Rhodes shook her head. “The light from a flash attachment, or any kind of light at all, really bothers the bats. That’s why we keep the lighting in the Big Room quite low, and in Left Hand Tunnel there’s no light at all. You’ll have to use infrared film and an infrared filter on your flash.”
Steven looked crestfallen. “I don’t have any of that with me. But—do you think I can buy these things in the city of Carlsbad? Would a photo store carry them?”
“I’m sure it would.”
“Then I’ll just have to drive back to Carlsbad,” Steven said. “Right now.”
“Da-ad!” Ashley complained, drawing it out into two syllables. “I thought you were going to take us through the cavern.”
“Left Hand T-T-Tunnel,” Sammy agreed, nodding.
Carefully, favoring her sore ankle, Dr. Rhodes got to her feet before she told them, “Your dad couldn’t take you through Left Hand Tunnel by himself—you have to sign up to be part of a tour group. Let’s see, what time is it? You might be able to hook up with a tour, but you’ll need an adult with you. Kids under 16 aren’t allowed to tour the cavern without a parent or guardian.”
All their plans seemed to be falling apart, Jack realized. Their dad wanted to make the long drive back to the city of Carlsbad. It would take him at least two hours to get there, find a store, buy the film and filter—if the store had them—and drive back. Their mother needed to stay with Dr. Rhodes. Ashley and Sam and Jack couldn’t tour the cavern without an adult. So what were they supposed to do?
“I have an idea,” Dr. Rhodes said. “I can take you kids down into the cavern and see if there’s still room in the next tour to Left Hand Tunnel. I know the ranger who’s guiding the tour, so even if it’s pretty full, she might bend the rules a little bit and let you join the group as her responsibility.”
“Dr. Rhodes, I can’t let you make that trip down into the cavern,” Olivia objected. “I can see that you’re in pain from that swollen ankle.”
Wavering between hope and disappointment, Sam’s big eyes kept traveling from one adult to another. Ashley, too, seemed to be holding her breath, waiting to see how it would all turn out.
“Here’s another thought,” Dr. Rhodes said. “I’ll ask one of the office assistants to take the kids down. We’ll pull a little rank and get them into that tour.”
Ashley clapped her hands, which made her look like she was as young as Sam. Was Jack the only one who wasn’t all hot to go through those narrow, dark tunnels? He’d better not show it, or Ashley would make some smart-faced remark.
When they exited Dr. Rhodes’s office, they found only one woman seated at a desk, typing fast on a computer.
“Hello, Consuela. Where are the others?” Dr. Rhodes asked her. “They’ve all gone to lunch. I wanted to finish this report, so I told them to go ahead without me.” Consuela was a pretty woman, round and soft with big brown eyes and black hair pulled into a ponytail. “Can I help you?” she asked.
After Dr. Rhodes introduced them all and explained the situation, Consuela said, “I can take the kids down to the cavern. I’m just finishing this report now.”
“Great!” Steven exclaimed, pulling out his wallet. “This is to pay for the tour. And there’s a lunchroom down in the cavern, right? Here’s some extra money so the kids can buy themselves lunch, and you, too, Ms…uh….”
“Sandoval. Consuela Sandoval. But call me Consuela. Thanks, Mr. Landon. I’ll get everybody fed before the tour departs. It’s a great tour. My grandson loves it.”
“You have grandkids?” Olivia blurted. “You look way too young.”
Consuela grinned and said, “I was married at 16, and I have two grown sons plus a 9-year-old grandson, but thanks for the compliment.” Turning to the three kids, she said, “We’d better get started. Do you all have something warm to wear? Most of the caves are just 56 degrees, although parts of Left Hand Tunnel are warmer than that. Still, it can feel pretty chilly when you’re there for a while.”
Jack and Ashley opened their backpacks and took out fleecy hooded sweatshirts; Jack’s was blue, Ashley’s gray. Sam had a mustard-colored fake-leather zippered jacket.
It was too small, but at least it would keep him warm.
“We’re good to go,” Ashley announced. “See you later, Mom and Dad.”
CHAPTER THREE
Outside the visitor center, the temperature had risen to 100 degrees; on the walk from Dr. Rhodes’s office, Jack had to wipe sweat from his forehead.
It was hard to believe that when they descended into the cavern, they’d feel chilly.
“How do we get down to the cavern?” Ashley asked.
“Well,” Consuela answered, “if we had more time, we’d go to the natural entrance of the cave and hike down the twisty, turny path to the bottom. But that would take about an hour, and you’d miss your tour. So we’ll use the elevator.”
“Elevator?” That was a surprise to Jack. In all the national parks his family had visited, they’d never reached a natural wonder by elevator. That sounded kind of out of line with National Park policy, which was to keep everything exactly as it was in nature.
“Just wait till you try it,” Consuela told them. “It’s quite a ride.”
They’d entered the visitor center, filled with hundreds of tourists from all over the globe who were milling around, strolling from the gift shop to the bookstore to the restaurant and all the other attractions in between. There were exhibits on bats, geology, and the history of Carlsbad Caverns, plus movies that showed how the formations grew. “I want to check out all this stuff after we tour the cavern,” Jack told Ashley, and Consuela added, “You can spend hours in here and not see everything. And then there are the trails outside. They’re worth checking out, too.”
Little kids of all shades ran around the center, shouting to each other in different languages. Since it happened to be late July, school was no longer in session. Older kids studied the exhibits.
“Elevator’s over this way,” Consuela said, leading them. She reached for Sam’s hand so he wouldn’t get swept away in the throng of visitors. He smiled up at her shyly as they came to a stop in front of the elevator doors. At least for a little while, Sam was holding on to someone other than Jack, and Jack enjoyed the freedom.
Soon the elevator doors opened, and the four of them entered. “Now, hold on to your sombreros,” Consuela said. “We’re about to descend 754 feet in less than a minute. See that little box up there? Watch the numbers, and it’ll show you how fast we’re going down.” The doors closed, the elevator began to drop, and Jack’s stomach lurched.
He grabbed on to the elevator wall, afraid he’d get queasy, but the ride was surprisingly smooth. He couldn’t take his eyes off the red digital numbers that measured their fall: 50 feet, 100 feet, 200—the red numbers changed with every 50 feet the elevator dropped—250, 350, 500, 650, 700—wow! What a ride! It was almost like free-falling in outer space. All too soon they reached ground zero, where Consuela said, “End of the trip. Everybody out!”
They exited into an incredible scene. There they were, 754 feet beneath the surface of the Earth in a big, dark cavern—and straight ahead of them was a gift shop!
On display were T-shirts with Carlsbad Caverns printed across the front and all kinds of other Carlsbad souvenirs. Beyond that was a photo-supply shop, then a kiosk selling food, and lots of picnic tables, all of them hardly visible in this barely lighted subterranean chamber. The usual crowd of visitors wandered around, calling their kids in half a dozen languages.
“This is the cavern?” Ashley asked. “It looks like Disneyland, only darker.”
Consuela just smiled. “This is only the starting point,” she said. “The cavern and caves and tunnels snake out for 30 miles beyond here—at least that’s how much has been discovered so far. Let’s go! We need to eat quickly if you’re going to make that two o’clock tour.”
Jack and Ashley ordered slices of pizza; Consuela ordered chicken strips; and Sam said all he wanted was one of the big soft pretzels. “That’s not enough,” Jack told him. “Do you want to keep on being a Mini-Me, or do you want to grow up nice and tall like I am?” At that, Sam agreed to order a hot dog.
“And milk,” Jack told him. “Milk will help you grow.”
“G-g-get some for Ashley, then,” Sam said, which made Jack laugh loudly until Ashley stuck her tongue out at him.
They found an empty picnic table littered with crumpled napkins and discarded cups. Consuela quickly swept them up and deposited the trash into a nearby garbage bin, clucking, “Honestly, people should be more careful. This is a national park, after all!”
When they finally settled in, the smooth plastic benches felt cold beneath Jack’s jeans. He was just taking a bite of pizza when Consuela asked, “Kids, would you mind getting some utensils? I could never eat chicken with just my fingers, even if most people do. I’ll need a plastic knife and fork.”
“Sure,” Jack agreed, getting up.
“Ashley, you and Sam go, too,” Consuela said.
“Huh?” Ashley’s pizza stopped in midair, just inches from her lips.
“You all go. And get me some”—Consuela’s dark eyes seemed to search the kiosk—“some napkins. And an extra cup. And some salt and pepper, too. And honey if they have some. Please.”
“But Jack can—” Ashley began.
“Don’t leave your brother to do it all. Go on, now,” Consuela told them, making a shooing gesture with her hands. “Take Sam with you.”
Giving Jack a look, Ashley shrugged and said, “OK. Let’s go, Sam.”
Without a word, Sam slid out from the bench and trotted after Jack and Ashley.
The whole thing struck Jack as odd. The kiosk was only 40 feet away, yet Consuela was asking three kids to do the work of one. Whatever! he told himself as he began to gather up the plastic supplies she’d requested. The extra cup would take a little longer, since they’d have to wait in line for that. Ashley had unfolded a paper napkin to hold the various packages of condiments.
“I’ll t-t-take the f-f-fork,” Sam offered. “She c-c-can start eating.”
“You do that, Mini-Me,” Jack answered. “We’ll be right behind you.”
“Jeez, I hope my pizza won’t be stone cold,” Ashley murmured as she dropped three packets of salt into the makeshift bag. “I still don’t know why all three of us had to get this stuff.”
“Who knows? Maybe Consuela believes in teamwork or something,” Jack guessed.
When they finally set the napkin full of condiments in front of Consuela, her skin had flushed to the color of copper. “Thanks a lot, kids. Now, you’d better hurry up and eat. Sam here says he’s not hungry, but I’ve never met a boy who couldn’t pack in enough for three adults. Maybe you can get him to take a bite. He’s just been fiddling with that pretzel.”
Right away, Jack noticed there was something wrong with Sam. It was as if in their absence the air had been sucked out of him. His eyes were glued to the tabletop, and he had shrunk into himself the way he’d done when he’d first arrived at the Landon home. Only the pretzel moved, swinging back and forth between his fingers like the pendulum on a clock.
“Hey, what’s wrong, guy?” Jack asked, sliding next to him.
Pressing his lips together, Sam quickly dropped the pretzel onto the tabletop and turned away, his shoulder blades protruding like knives.
“I think I know what may have upset him,” Consuela began, but just then a man at an adjoining table said something to her in Spanish.
“Que es?” she answered. Since she was wearing a park uniform, the man must have thought she was a park ranger rather than an office worker. He spoke rapidly to her, interrupted by his wife, who kept breaking in with comments of her own, all in Spanish. Every time Consuela tried to take a bite of her food, they stopped her with another question, which she politely answered. Both the husband and wife took turns speaking excitedly in a stream of nonstop Spanish, which kept up the whole time Ashley, Jack, and Sam were eating their lunches. Poor Consuela never got a mouthful.
Whatever she had been about to say about Sam and his strange behavior seemed to get lost as she focused on the man, who gestured wildly at the cave ceiling as if he could punch it with his fists. Although Jack didn’t understand Spanish, there was one word he could make out—“no.” Whatever the man was saying, Consuela was arguing against.
For some reason, Sam had shrunk to the end of the bench, pressing himself close to Jack as though he were trying to get as far away as possible from Consuela.
“Hey, move over,” Jack told him. “You’re crowding me.”
Sam moved about an inch, then slid down on the bench until his chin almost touched the tabletop. What is with this kid? Jack wondered impatiently. He was about to ask when Consuela tapped the face of her wristwatch, apparently telling the Hispanic couple that she had to go, because at the same time she got up and gestured to the kids. She looked regretfully at her uneaten chicken strips, then took them over to the trash bin with all the rest of the debris from the table, saying, “We have to move or you’ll miss the tour. The last one of the day will start in ten minutes.”
“You know, if we miss it, we don’t have to tour Left Hand Tunnel,” Ashley suggested. “We could just walk through the Big Room. That’s a self-guided tour, isn’t it?”
“Nuh-uh!” Sam insisted. “L-Left Hand Tunnel.”
“Why?” Ashley demanded. “That’s all you’ve talked about ever since we got here. What is so important about Left Hand Tunnel?”
“B-because.” Sam took a deep breath and managed to get the whole sentence out without stammering. “It’s about people like me.”
“You mean stutterers?” Ashley asked uncertainly.
“No.” Sam looked disdainful as he raised his hand and wiggled his fingers. “L-l-lefties. Southpaws.” He pretended to throw an imaginary baseball with his left hand.
Consuela, Jack, and Ashley were so surprised that for a moment none of them could think of anything to say. Then Consuela murmured, “That’s a great reason to visit Left Hand Tunnel. I’ll go check with the ranger.”
Should Jack explain to Sam that the tunnel wasn’t named for left-handed people? Or just let him go on thinking that it had been? Sometimes Sam seemed a whole lot younger than his eight years. Like now, when once more he kept clinging to Jack’s arm.
“Hey, what’s with you?” Jack asked him. “Why are you hanging on me like a leech? Are you afraid of this place because it’s dark?”
Sam shook his head, and motioned for Jack to lean down so he could whisper. When Jack did, Sam muttered, “She’s on d-d-drugs.”
“Your mother?” Jack answered. “Yes, I know that, and I’m sorry.”
But Sammy shook his head. “No. C-C-C—” Unable to finish the word, he just pointed to Consuela’s retreating figure.
“Consuela?” Jack exclaimed. “Don’t be crazy.”
“I saw!” Sam insisted. Finding it easier to pantomime than speak, he went through the motions of injecting his arm with a needle, then pointed again to Consuela.
“What’s he saying?” Ashley asked.
“He’s trying to tell us he saw Consuela shooting up with heroin or something.”
“Oh, Sammy, that’s insane,” Ashley declared, also bending down to his eye level. “Consuela’s a nice lady with a grandson about your age. She’s no druggie. I’m sure it must be hard on you to know that your mother takes drugs, but you can’t go around thinking that every other woman you meet does the same thing. Consuela’s really sweet. Didn’t you notice how nice she was to those Hispanic people who wouldn’t even let her eat her lunch?”
“She did it b-b-before that. When you were getting the s-s-stuff. I saw!”
“Well, I didn’t see anything.” Jack said.
“Neither did I. You’re just plain wrong, Sammy,” Ashley insisted, and to Jack, “Don’t say anything about this to Consuela. Can you imagine how she’d feel? That would be so insulting.”
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