There was another opening, larger than the one they’d come out of, that lead into a tunnel big enough for Elliot to walk through. The light hadn’t returned by the time he started down the passage, so he again felt along the walls with his hands, crouching to prevent an impact with his head. He could still hear Evajean behind him and the sound was terrible, as bad as when he’d first heard Callie or when he’d woken up in the middle of the night to the soft babbling of Clarine. He wanted to run back to her, to take Evajean and carry her away from this place–but he knew his body, already exhausted, would give out under her weight and then he’d never find a way to take her to the surface and, somehow, make her well again.

The tunnel took a smooth curve to the left and then began to slope upwards. He realized that he could actually see: nothing more than a vague circle of grey that was the tunnel’s open center stretching away in front of him, but the light was there and getting stronger. And it wasn’t yellow, which meant it could be daylight.

He moved faster now, more sure of his ability to avoid injury, and soon the tunnel widened even further, becoming a long room twice has tall as Elliot, and wide enough for two or three trucks to park easily. The light came from a large crack running along the ceiling, the rock split by a little less than a foot. Sunlight, faint and the color of evening, spilled in and Elliot shouted and pumped his fist. They were close. The surface was right there and that mean there had to be a way to get to it. He could help Evajean.

Elliot turned around and headed back in her direction. “Evajean!” he called to her, “I found it!” No response came, but he wasn’t expecting one. Just so long as she heard him, so long as she knew he hadn’t left her.

But she hadn’t heard him. The light died out as he moved further back in the direction of the second chamber. Soon hew as forced to use his hands again and drop his pace, but he still shouted to Evajean. Yet when he finally reached the room where he’d left her, the sound of babbling met him and his enthusiasm, until then founded on suspension of this terrible knowledge, died and he had to again face the fact that Evajean was sick with the same plague that had killed his wife and child–as well as most of the rest of the world.

“Evajean,” he said. “I found a way out.” He walked across the chamber, following the sounds she made. She hadn’t moved in the time he was gone, and was still laying where he’d left her. As he got close, she stopped talking and just lay still. Elliot sat down next to her and felt out, taking her hand.

“I’m going to try to carry you,” he said. She sputtered something, a whisper, and he knew, even if he’d heard it, he wouldn’t have understood. “Is that okay? Can I carry you?”

No intelligible response came. You’re kidding yourself, Elliot thought. She’s sick like Callie, sick like Clarine. She’ll die just like they did, too. Should he kill her now? That’s what he would want if the plague got him.

Still holding her hand, Elliot slid his other arm underneath her chest and lifted her up to sitting. Her body was stiff and twitching and he felt immediately sick as it moved against his. He couldn’t kill her, no matter how bad it got. This wasn’t a moral choice but, rather, a recognition of a lack of will on his part. No matter how much it might be the right thing to do, there was no way Elliot could make himself kill Evajean.

That left him with only a single option: he had to get her out of here and find help. What that help would look like he’d figure out later, after they were safely out of these goddamn caves.

“Right,” he said. “Okay, it’s time to do this.” He stood up, straining with her weight, and managed to get her standing, too. He started to drag her backwards this way but stopped, realizing he wouldn’t be able to find the opening in the dark, not without having one arm free to feel for it. Shifting Evajean to more to his side, he tried holding her with just a single arm and found he could barely manage–though he’d have to stop frequently to rest the muscles. This plan tentatively in place, he set out again across the cavern in what he guessed was the direction of the passage.

He eventually found it and stopped at its mouth, sitting Evajean against the rock. His back hurt and his legs protested this new effort so soon after all that crouched walking. But he only let himself stay stationary for a minute and then he took up his mumbling burden once more and worked the two of them into the passageway.

Through none of this did the yellow light appear. Maybe he’d imagined it or maybe his eyes, unused to straining so long in darkness, tricked him. He knew the daylight in the second cavern was real, however, and after a sufferingly long time in the tunnel, he experienced its subtle rise again, the grey circle in front of him. Do this, Elliot, he thought. You’re almost there.

They emerged out of the tunnel and into the room with the crack in the ceiling. At the far end it narrowed again and continued–towards the surface, he hoped.

“This is it,” he said to Evajean. “See that? That’s sunlight. Or starlight, maybe. I don’t know what time it is. But it’s light from outside. You’ll be there soon and then whatever this is, it’ll– You’ll be okay again. You’ll be okay.”