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"Guess," A
"A day. Maybe two."
A
"Could go either way," he replied unhelpfully.
Holden took over. "We got nothing to dig with and the best we can do to help is get out of the way. They're going to be pushing out on this slope, and it'll slide again before they're done. We've all put in close to a nineteen-hour day. Everybody's shot. Till we've rested we're just accidents waiting to happen. We'll set up a base of operations back at the other end of this hole. We've got beaucoup water. Rapunzel goes down forever. This cave's got enough air to be considered a wind tu
Though he'd chosen to be brave, macho, noble, and all the things that A
Consumed by an all-encompassing fatigue, A
On the careful trek back, McCarty was in line behind A
"Sondra?" she echoed stupidly, and ceased all movement to summon the energy required to process the idea. "Zeddie!" she hollered when the thought had percolated through the layers of dulled emotion.
"Yeah?" Zeddie called back. A
"Is Sondra back with Curt?"
A moment's silence followed, then the almost inevitable response: "Wasn't she with you?"
A
"She told me she was going to rotate out," A
Now the doctor did look relieved, and A
Camp was luxurious by caving standards: there was a fairly flat spot for everyone to lie down on. At Holden's insistence, food was eaten. Most were so tired they would have forgone the meal to avoid the effort of lifting the spoon from container to mouth. Understanding the need to fuel the body, A
Consensus was that Sondra had gone out. Either that or she lay under the rock and dirt of the slide. Despite the slimness of this possibility, A
Chewing, swallowing, drinking warm water, it occurred to A
A
Oscar and Holden did a commendable job with their pep talks. Oscar's was filtered through fatigue and Holden's a near-crippling sense of guilt, but they served their purpose. The team was given hope and cohesion. Lisa, the long-braided caver who had been trapped with the core group, was a practicing Buddhist. She said a prayer for Frieda that A
One by one they made the creeping journey from their bivouac to the mouth of the Pigtail where there was a good "squatting rock" and they could perform their evening ablutions. Limited space precluded both a ladies' room and a men's, so an empty water bottle was set in the trail. If the bottle was upright, the loo was available, if on its side, occupado.
Throughout the bustling and munching, the coming and going, Holden and Oscar sat huddled in conversation. If asked a direct question or detecting a need of a team member, they would break from their tête-à-tête, only to return to it the moment they were no longer wanted. They spoke so quietly A
Finally, tucked in close as sardines in a can, the cavers bedded down. A
"Life is like a mountain railroad with an engineer that's brave. We must make the run successful from the cradle to the grave," soared through their miserable night, powered by notes of youth, tones of raw faith in the inherent goodness of existence. Old-time gospel had a healing power bloodless intellectual faith could not lay claim to.