In the Wake of a Dream MADISON BRADBURN

In the Wake of a Dream

MADISON BRADBURN

She’d read somewhere, in an old national park brochure, that caves are alive.

Like people, caves breathe. They have thoughts. They have dreams. They are whole bodies, existing with all that entails.

To go into a cave was to go somewhere she wasn’t wanted. The earth made it abundantly clear. Humans were not meant to be underground, just as they weren’t meant to dive to the bottom of the ocean or to pull out the fish that live in trenches and liquify to jelly upon contact with the open air.

That’s what got Catlynn into spelunking.

She wanted to be somewhere she wasn’t wanted. She wanted the swell of pride that came from exploring the earth, from surviving when the cave wanted nothing to do with her.

Hands tightening around the straps of her canvas bag, she took a deep breath of summer air. The world fell off not twenty feet from where she stood, the mountains giving way to a bowl valley filled with fog so thick you’d think you were looking out over a lake.

It would be burned off by mid-morning, the June heat evaporating into the air only for the water to come crashing down in the daily afternoon rainstorm.

The Appalachian Mountains were nearly 480 million years old making it one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world. They existed before bones. It was something Catlynn could hardly wrap her head around. It was a place where many of the caves didn’t have fossils simply because nothing was around to die.

The cave to her back made its presence known over her shoulders in a tingle that ran claws up the back of her neck, settling at the base of her skull.

Ester’s Web.

When she’d first begun spelunking, she’d hiked out to Ester. Inexperienced and ill equipped, Catlynn had dove into the cave not far from a small place called Panthertown that was known for its gorgeous hiking trails and the small, sleepy town at the trailhead.

Most spelunkers went in teams of four or more, keeping their numbers even so everyone had a buddy, but Catlynn had never worked well in teams. Raised several miles up a rural holler she had what her mom called a sadistic streak, a lack of empathy and a stubborn independence.

When she crawled back to the surface triumphant, she wanted the air in her lungs to be her own. The sweat pressing her bangs to her forehead, Catlynn wanted to earn that alone.

She smiled, knowing that the grin would only be wider when she came clambering back later in the day, Ester’s Web finally defeated and set decidedly behind her.

Ester had beaten Catlynn the first time, frightened her off with a squeeze so tight she’d sworn she’d turn thin as a worm pushing through. Not this time though. Catlynn was far more experienced now. This time, she had dozens of caves under her belt and equipment she knew better than she knew herself.

The entrance to Ester was small, about the size of a coyote’s den, requiring her to get down and slide feet first into the ground. She’d stuck a stick in earlier to check and make sure nothing seemed to be living inside but the first step into a cave always made her nervous. It would be just her luck to piss off a bear or sit on a rattlesnake.

The first slide was an easy one, a six foot or so descent at an angle that reminded her of a kiddie slide at a public park, the sort that shocks you with static electricity. About halfway down she flicked her headlamp on, washing the cave in the warm glow of its yellow bulb.

Pulling her map from her pocket as she stepped into the starting alcove, Catlynn poured over the details, following thick ink lines down across the page. Ester’s Web was not a fully explored cave system. Her goal was first to move past “The Beak”, the squeeze that had frightened her off years ago then make her way through an area marked “Traveler’s Rest”. From there she would descend through a drop pit and into the deeper system.

There was a second squeeze at the bottom of the drop that other spelunkers had boorishly named “The Birth Canal” that no one had managed to push through. Catlynn had rolled her eyes when she’d first seen the name. She couldn’t count how many caves had a section named “The Birth Canal”.

A sliver of light passed over the entrance to The Beak an hour later. Looking at it Catlynn wondered why it had ever frightened her. She’d seen far worse now.

Stepping up to the long, slender tear in Ester’s belly. Catlynn grinned. She wouldn’t even have to take her pack off to get through.

Turning sideways, she stuck both of her arms out straight, side stepping into the squeeze. The cave rose to meet her, wrapping around her body like an old friend, a sensation that twisted its way into her. The walls slid under her fingers, across the rises and falls in her palms in greeting.

Catlynn felt her eyes lose focus, the blur of the small cracks and fissures, the changes in mineral composites, all blending a few centimeters from her nose as she shuffled forward. The sounds of her bag scraping against the rock behind her filled her ears, scratching and popping like radio static.

Breathing out she let her eyes slip closed, the merging shapes of Ester falling away as she sank into the moment. This was real. Her alone in the cave was real and tangible in a way nothing else could ever dream of being.

The Beak let her go.

It stretched open, walls splaying until they no longer embraced her, leaving her at the entrance to the Traveler’s Rest. She felt all at once freed and horridly bare. Looking down at herself she found her pants, shirt, and jacket near drenched from the humidity and small streams of water inside The Beak. As if she stepped from a shower she’d decided to take clothed, Catlynn felt more exposed than she would have had she been naked. Goosebumps crawled up her arms, tensing in her shoulders.

Glancing back, she stared at the long hallway she had come from.

She had beaten it, had thrown Ester’s efforts to frighten her back in its face and yet, she hadn’t felt scared or rejected while inside. She’d felt at home.

The earth was a place that did not want you. The earth chewed you up, said without a doubt that it was not constructed or made with humans in mind.

And yet Ester waved at her in reunion.

Ester, who had denied her before, who had plagued her dreams with the ache of failure.

Catlynn looked away from the squeeze, another distinct shiver running through her as if she was experiencing an earthquake of her own. All caves were real, but that feeling of presence of true existence came from the danger of the plunge, not from the stone itself.

She pressed her feet down into the mud and silt beneath her boots, moving her legs a moment later to see the imprint of the grips on the underside. She’d run away from The Beak years ago so why didn’t she feel defiant having pushed through now?

Maybe she’d hyped herself up too much.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Standing, Catlynn pulled her map out again to make sure she headed off in the right direction. She had dwelled on The Beak for far too long, both in the years before and while taking a short break. She didn’t owe Ester the time.

The next landmark on her map was a drop pit, estimated to stretch nearly three hundred feet downwards.

She’d rappelled down further. Hell, she’d scrambled down further, shoes biting into the stone to send bits of sediment raining.

It wasn’t a far hike, crystals glittering off the walls as she walked across the sloped floor. Reaching out, she plucked one, pocketing it. They were white, stiff little things, thin and cut at awkward angles. They reminded Catlynn of needle ice sticking up from the ground in clear miniscule towers, dressing the earth up in white hair.

They’d glitter on her shelves at home later, a reminder of her success over Ester, gathering sun-soaked window dust.

The light in front of her dipped down, the ground below giving way to leave her beam suspended and arcing over the edge of the pit as she arrived at it. She stepped close, wondering how far she could lean until she tumbled end over end. How long would it take to fall to the bottom? Would she be lucid enough through the fear to appreciate the sensation?

She kicked a rock over, listening to it ricochet off the walls of the pit, careening downwards until with an echoing splash it landed. The sound rung up around Catlynn as if she were a glass an opera singer was practicing their scales on.

The water at the bottom hadn’t been listed on the map. Although, that could have been because Ester’s Web was fairly unexplored. If no one had come this far during the rainy season it was unlikely they would have been met with the pool. She’d be sure to record the information later. For now, she set to pulling out her rappelling equipment.

A couple feet from the pit she drove a stake into the ground where it wouldn’t come loose, swinging her hammer down hard to wedge the iron spike into the dirt. Looping her ropes and rings around it, she tugged to make sure it would hold. Satisfied, Catlynn pulled on her harness, tightening the straps around her legs and waist until she was comfortable with the fit clipping into her belay device with a carabiner before slinging her bag over her shoulders.

The beginning of a descent was always the hardest part, standing at the edge and looking down, wondering if her spike would hold. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

Catlynn pushed off, fell through the dark in a glide, wind pushing against her back and through the strands of her long hair that peaked out around her helmet. The rope slid through her gloved left hand, around her back, over the belay device, and then through the fingers clenched loosely around it on her right. She fell until the rope above her tightened, the spike catching to send her sailing forward in a half arc. Catlynn bent her knees, legs spread to the size of her shoulders and let the wall of the pit come up to greet her.

The rush of satisfaction swelled through her and she laughed, her happiness circling around her in an echo, distorted and older than when it had left. She listened to it rise from below, sounding different on its way back and inviting as if to ask what she was waiting for.

Around her, stalactites dripped down the walls. Long, sharp outcroppings of rocks taking shape to let water run down their sides and spiral to the pool below. As she looked around, it seemed as if she were caught in a rainstorm.

When Catlynn landed she found the pool to be deeper than expected, rising midway up her thighs. It was a light blue where here headlamp caught it, different in hue than the water she was used to seeing outside and far clearer.

Out on the Nantahala, river jocks liked to pass sayings between each other and one lesson that Catlynn had picked up over the years was that it was best to get things over with. She crouched down. Letting the water rise quickly over her body until she dunked her head under.

Rafters did the same. They let their bodies adjust to the cold all at once so they didn’t have to worry about the chill as they made their way down river.

Catlynn wondered if there were any fish in the pool. If this one was only here during the rainy season, then she doubted it. Although, she had seen quite a few oddities on her adventures. She’d seen salamanders the size of toddlers and catfish the size of cars. Not far from here there was a cascade that sunk so far into the earth scientists could not find the bottom and a set of twin circles carved from nothing in a nearby stream, round pools catching the full moon perfectly between their lines.

The Birth Canal opened about seventy feet away, Catlynn spotting it at the edge of the pool, water slipping down into it in a rush of motion. Shifting her bag to the front of her body Catlynn carefully approached the opening where the current swept at her legs, beckoning her closer still. She stared at the canal, entranced. The water frothing at the edges amplified in her vision, eating it up to static and a sound that rang louder with each moment in her ears.

Didn’t the earth hate her? Didn’t Ester want to chew her up and spit her out like it had before?

Catlynn shook her head, breath catching for a moment before her ribs expanded graciously. She’d forgotten to breathe.

Shocked back to reality, she unzipped her bag, rummaging her shaking fingers through the folds until she found a second stake and her hammer. A squeeze like this would be impossible to get back through on her own.

Once her stake was secure, she tied off new set of rope, fixing it to her belay and harness before tossing the extra length down the canal. Sitting down in the water, Catlynn held her rope tight, giving it a tug to make sure it would hold as she used it to guide herself down the rushing river.

With a deep breath she set off, sliding over the lip and into the dark.

The world blurred around her, shifting with the current before she was able to slow. Her rope clinked against her belay and carabiners, the sound of the metal jingling assuring her that safe.

The water shoved at her back, insistent that she lose her hold.

Catlynn dug her feet into the floor.

She was in control.

The canal grew tighter the further she went, wrapping in around her as The Beak had, and the water, funneled through the diminishing space, pushed harder and faster still.

Catlynn braced herself on the walls, pushed up against the current and strained.

Could she climb back up this? Shouldn’t she retreat while there was still a chance to?

She shook off the thoughts.

She had her rope and her wits.

She didn’t need anything else.

This was nothing.

This was child’s play.

Ester wasn’t about to win this.

Not again.

She’d gotten too far to give up and turn around, to get scared.

Catlynn was better than that.

Moving further, Catlynn let the rope through her fingers at an increasing pace. Traversing the canal was simple. It was as easy as slipping down a waterslide on a hot summer’s day, as thoughtless as sinking into a hug.

Ester was embracing her again, as Catlynn sank lower, as the canal grew steeper and smaller by the second.

Convinced that she would win, Catlynn let the rope out faster still.

She allowed herself to enjoy the fall. The wind and water rushed past as she hurtled forward.

A bump in the ceiling, a stalactite half formed, smacked against her helmet cracking the headlamp there and plunging her into darkness.

Catlynn gasped. The shock of the sudden darkness caused the rope to fly through her fingers uncontrolled until, with a painful jolt, she stopped herself. Her wrists, elbows, and shoulders screamed with the jerk.

She shouldn’t have gotten careless.

Control, or the illusion of it, tore itself from her grasp as she realized how far she’d let herself spiral downwards.

She pressed her face into her balled up hands, teeth gritting so hard she thought they might shatter under the pressure.

“Calm down, calm down,” she repeated in a quiet mantra to herself, eyes closed tightly. A deep, slow breath pressed its way into her lungs as she forced herself to take stock of the situation.

She needed to leave. She had to. Somehow.

Her equipment had been damaged, and the current was stronger than ever as the canal shrank until it was just her in the tiny squeeze.

Water pushed her so hard her spine cracked with the force and with her next ragged breath, she lost her footing.

She was shoved downwards, rope rushing through her fingertips and belay until it was gone but that hardly mattered, she couldn’t have climbed back up the current if she’d tried and she knew that.

Stupid pride sending her down here! Stupid adrenaline rush addiction, hubris, whatever you wanted to call it. What did she have to show for it?

The walls of The Birth Canal scraped against her legs, her sides, her arms, but she didn’t slow. The water behind her urged her through, letting the walls shred the sides of her pants and push her shirt up to expose her skin.

Catlynn screamed, the first true scream she’d ever given. Pain and terror filled her as the walls ate at her skin, scrapes turning to cuts and crimson skid marks that were swallowed down by the water.

Back in high school, she’d seen pictures of motorcyclists thrown onto the road like lake skipping stones. In those gruesome scare tactic photographs the road had torn their leather pants and jackets down to the flesh.

In one particularly horrid instance the teacher had shown a man whose skull looked as if it had been held to a grindstone, bone and brain polished to a flat angle.

Even without seeing, Catlynn knew her legs weren’t much better.

The earth was somewhere she wasn’t supposed to be. She knew that. That was why she liked spelunking. She craved that feeling of trespassing, of invading a body and walking away.

Catlynn would let her! She would let her chew her up spit her up; would let Ester scare her off.

She didn’t care why Ester hated her.

Catlynn couldn’t even remember now why it had mattered in the first place.

Thoughts twisted in on themselves, rapidly losing coherency the longer time hurled itself through her aching body, down with the torrent of water.

She wanted to go back.

Catlynn wanted her rope in her hands and for the pain to go away.

She wanted to stand on the ridge and watch it rain so why…why was the earth taking her in? Why was the water pushing so hard?

Why had it allowed her to slip against the cave walls? Why had it insisted she lose her rope, her lamp? Her control?

She couldn’t go back.

She knew that.

Ester knew that.

Ester had taken the ability to leave from her and was now pulling her closer into her embrace with every passing moment.

For as long as Catlynn had spent thinking the earth hated her, for as much pain as Catlynn could feel in her shrinking body she could also feel Ester curling around her with a covetousness that squeezed across her form and held her in a way nothing ever had.

The Beak had waved to her fingers and palms like an old friend. Now, further in, more acquainted with Ester, her hands smearing blood across the walls, Catlynn waved back.

Ester was here around her and her arms were open.

Tears bubbled up, catching in her throat and she smiled and laughed in a hitching mess of a voice because Ester didn’t hate her, and she never had.

Ester loved her.

Ester had waited for her.

She hadn’t let anyone this far in. She had scared everyone else off, had made sure no one came to where she was leading Catlynn, where she wanted Catlynn, where she needed her.

Ester had missed her.

Catlynn could feel it. She could feel the whole wide scope of Ester. She was the bottomless cascade and the pools that caught the full moon in their round eyes.

Ester was old. Ester was as old as these mountains, older than humans, older than bones. Her spine was the ridge line, her fingers the root of every tree and flower, every ivy and blade of grass, her organs the caves. They were her heart, her lungs, her stomach, and here in her birth canal, Catlynn laid back.

They weren’t friends. Catlynn had misinterpreted Ester’s waves, her soft, quiet, loving gestures.

No.

As Catlynn felt the wall above her press against her nose and drag the skin and cartilage away to polish her down, she closed her eyes and came home to her mother.