A Reckoning Postponed

Desperate, the three crept through infinite darkness. They shared one flashlight between them, and crowded each other while trying to stay near the narrow beam. Around them water dropped from the ceiling in irregular, almost musical, patterns.

Sarah slipped, her mouth opening in a silent scream. As she fell, her hand scrabbled for a grip on the closest arm- Mannie’s, causing his flashlight to jerk.

He turned the light toward her and brushed her hands off of his arm. “What?” His voice was too loud, almost accusing.

She blanched and pointed at the floor, making sign after sign that meant nothing to him.

“She says the floor is slippery.” James interpreted.

The beam fell to the rocky ground. Criss-crossing cobwebs of water divided, joined and divided again.

“Yeah, well, tell her to be careful.” Mannie muttered.

“She can hear you just fine-” James began angrily.

Sarah grabbed James’ hand and squeezed it once. He took her meaning and dropped it.

As long as they were lost, they couldn’t afford to fight.

View this story's 1 comments.