The Christmas Cave Read online

  “Are there any wild animals?” asked Jack.

  “Of course.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Cougar, bear, deer, porcupine, skunk, rabbit… all manner of creature.”

  “Are they dangerous?”asked Amanda.

  “Killer rabbits,” joked Jack.

  “Them and others,” said Jenny. “Just don’t surprise ‘em. Don’t be too quiet. Don’t make a racket out there, but don’t be sneaking around, either.”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Ya’ gotta give ‘em a chance to get out of your way. And don’t ever come between a mama and her babies. If you do come face to face, don’t run, but don’t stare ‘em down; just back away.”

  “Okay,” said Jack, more anxious than he wanted to let on.

  Jenny took a compass out of her pocket. “Either of you know how to use a compass?” she asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” said Amanda. “I do.”

  Jenny handed the compass to her. “You stay on this side of the creek, don’t cross a road,” she pointed, “and keep that mountain to your south. Do that, you can’t get lost.”

  “Got it,” said Amanda.

  “Off you go, then.” Jenny motioned them off the porch. “Be back before noon.”

  They thanked Grandma as they took the steps down from the porch, started across the yard toward the trailhead between the barn and the larger of the two lesser outbuildings.

  They found themselves walking along a winding, well-traveled path, the vegetation pushing in on them from either side. After a few minutes the trail turned up the hillside and grew steadily steeper. Jack and Amanda began to climb. They were glad when the trail suddenly leveled off, then opened onto a large, wide open clearing.

  They stepped to the edge of the clearing. A panoramic vista was spread out before and below them. From here they could see sweeping mountainsides of forest, open meadows, and clear blue sky.

  After a few minutes rest, they started again, following the trail back into the trees. Another twenty minutes and they could hear the placid sound of water coursing over rock. They came up to a creek, followed the bank without crossing.

  Sometime later the trail veered away from the creek, turning more directly uphill where the creek continued to flow its gentler course. They nonetheless decided to follow the path, and within a few minutes entered another clearing.

  Directly ahead of them was a small cabin; rustic, some of the rough-hewn siding planks older than others, revealing that it had been patched and repaired piecemeal over the years.

  A string of Christmas lights hung loose on the front eave, turned off. The bulbs were a mix of colors: green and blue and red.

  The mountain rose up directly behind the clearing. Another trailhead next to the cabin led to away and continued up the hillside.

  “Do you think anybody lives here?” asked Jack.

  Amanda walked up the cabin, leaned up close to a window. Inside was a table and one chair, a narrow bed against a wall near a fireplace. On the other side of the fireplace was a wall of shelves with books and odds and ends. In the near corner were a sink and counter and small refrigerator.

  “I think so,” she said. She stepped back, noticed a switch mounted next to the front door. She reached out and flipped it up. The string of Christmas lights turned on. Several bulbs weren’t working. Several others flickered a few times before remaining on.

  One bulb suddenly went out.

  A man’s voice then, deep and not entirely friendly. “Waddya kids want?”

  Mike stood just inside the trailhead beside the cabin, hiking staff in hand. He was dressed in rawhide pants and jacket, a heavy plaid shirt. A graying black man, sixty six years old, his face several days unshaven. There was a haunted, absent gaze in his eyes. He set his small backpack onto the wooden workbench built against the side of the cabin.

  Jack and Amanda took several steps back from the cabin as Mike moved around to the front.

  “Sorry, mister,” said Jack. “We didn’t know anybody lived here.”

  Mike flipped the switch and the Christmas lights went out.

  “You know it now.” He gave the kids a careful gaze. “You belong to Jenny?”

  “She’s our grandma,” said Amanda.

  “Heard about that,” Mike grunted. “You here for a couple of weeks, then. Christmas.”

  “That’s right,” Amanda stated.

  “You know Grandma?” asked Jack.

  “Course I know her.” He looked from side to side, examining the front of his cabin as if to make sure nothing was missing or damaged. “Known her all my life.”

  There was a long pause then. Mike eyed his uninvited company. His company shuffled nervously under the gaze.

  “You two best be off,” he said.

  §

  Dinner was a warm, pleasant atmosphere. The family sat around Grandma’s long dining table, Jenny at one end, Tom and Olivia on one side, Jack and Amanda on the other.

  “Oh, that’s just Mike,” said Grandma. “That’s his cabin.”

  “Is he dangerous?” asked Olivia.

  “Oh my, no. Not at all. Mike’s a darling.”

  “He has a cabin up here?” asked Tom. “I didn’t know he had moved back.” He obviously knew of Mike.

  “Couple of years now,” said Jenny. “He bought a patch of land up near the mouth of the caves.”

  “Caves?” Amanda perked up. This got her attention.

  “You mean the—” Olivia started.

  “Yes,” Jenny answered.

  “What caves?” Jack asked, as curious as Amanda. Caves?

  “There’re caves up here?” asked Amanda.

  Tom looked distractedly at Jenny, at Olivia, gave a quick glance to the kids. He looked back to Jenny.

  “After all these years?” he asked his mother. “Is he still—”

  “Yes. Yes, I’m afraid so.”

  There was a hint of sadness in that, and it was reflected in Tom’s own expression. He turned slowly then back to the kids. “Mike is a friend of your Grandma’s,” he said. “They grew up together. At least till Mike’s family moved away.”

  Jack wasn’t about to let the conversation shift away from what was important.

  “What caves?” he asked.

  “You never told the children about the caves?” Jenny asked Tom.

  “The subject never came up.”

  Jenny put down her fork. She leaned over her plate. “Well, it’s front and center now.”

  “Mom,” Olivia spoke thoughtfully, “I’m not so sure—”

  “Oh, what’s the fuss?”

  “Mom…” Tom sighed.

  Jenny turned her focus back to Jack and Amanda.

  “I was thirteen,” she said. “We had been hearing stories about a special cave for as long as any of us could remember. A secret place deep in the mountain where it was always Christmas. Of course, Mike and I didn't believe the stories, but my little brother Bill was certain there was some truth to them.” She leaned an inch nearer her grandchildren and grinned slyly. “We were happy to go along with it. After all, exploring the caves was fun. It was exciting. It’s a real maze in there. Those tunnels go on for miles. We explored ‘em off and on for most of a year. Got lost more’n once.”

  “Lost?” Amanda perked up.

  “Oh, we always managed to find our way out again,” she said dismissively. She smiled at Tom, who frowned, a sparkle in her eye. She leaned back then, continued her story. “Two days after Christmas, nineteen hundred and sixty. We were deeper in the mountain than ever before, in a section of the caves we had never been in before. We saw a light up ahead, beyond the bend… where there should be no light. Flickering red and green and blue.”

  “Like Christmas,” Amanda whispered.

  “Just like Christmas,” Jenny said softly. She grew silent. Her expression grew solemn. Tom reached a hand out and rested it comfortingly on her arm. She gave a gentle smile, patted the back of his hand.

  “Bill rushe
d ahead of us,” she continued. “I tried to stop him, but then, that was Bill.”

  “What happened, Grandma?” asked Amanda.

  “He disappeared around the bend. About then the lights went out. Mike and I ran after him, but by the time we got there… he was gone. There was nothing there.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing. Just more tunnel. We followed it, searched for hours; ended up completely lost. Took most of a day to find our way back out.”

  She went thoughtfully silent again. Jack was about to ask her what happened when she started again, her voice more soft than ever before.

  “A rescue party went in to search for him. But they never found him. Never found anything. Not a sign.”

  “What do you think happened, Grandma?” Amanda asked.

  “Who’s to say, sweetie. Maybe he found the Christmas Cave. I’d like to think so.” She again grew quiet, and while the kids wanted to know more they could sense that now was probably not the time to pursue it.

  Jack slid his chair back and stood up, gathered his plate and silverware and took them into the kitchen. Amanda followed his lead, and moments later they headed down the hall to their rooms.

  When Jenny took her own dishes into the kitchen, Olivia leaned forward and rested on her elbows.

  “They’re going to end up in those caves, you know,” she said, her voice just low enough to keep her children from overhearing. “How can they not, now that they’ve heard the stories?”

  “Kids gotta be kids, Olivia,” said Tom.

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “It’s not that bad. Geez, every kid on this mountain ends up in the caves, me included. It’s almost a rite of passage.”

  “Just… don’t encourage them,” said Olivia. “We’re their parents. We tell them to stay out. We need to be together on this.”

  “Of course, Liv,” Tom gave his wife a pleasant smile.

  “I mean it, Tom.” Olivia spoke firmly. “You were lost in there for two days.”

  “Day and a half. And I was eleven.”

  “They’re not much older. And you could have died in there.”

  That last lay heavy in the room. They heard Jenny in the kitchen, putting leftovers into bowls and the dishes in the sink. From down the hall came Amanda’s voice. It sounded like Jack should have knocked first.

  “So what happened to Mike, do you think?” asked Olivia. “How did he become so obsessed?”

  “I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Maybe he felt responsible.” His mom had told him more than once that Bill had followed Mike everywhere.

  “You don’t think…” Olivia wondered, “He can’t believe that Bill is still alive.”

  “Who’s to say?” Tom wondered right back. “You heard Mom. After Bill was lost, rescue teams went over those tunnels with a fine-toothed comb. Never found a trace of him. Or of the Christmas Cave.”

  “Oh, but you don’t think it really exists? That he actually found it?”

  “No. Of course not. But Mike might.”

  After Bill went missing, Mike had snuck off every chance he got to go searching in the caves. The sheriff even tried boarding up the entrance, but that didn’t stop him. His parents got so worried that they finally moved away, took him off the mountain.

  Jenny didn’t hear anything of him for fifteen years. Then he started showing up summers. He’d spend a couple of weeks on the mountain, going into the caves for days at a time.

  “The poor man,” said Olivia. “Searching for a lost little boy, year after year.”

  Jenny came out of the kitchen and settled again at the table.

  “I thought Mike was married,” said Tom.

  “Mary passed away the winter before he moved back up here for good,” said Jenny. “His son has a family of his own, lives back east somewhere. I don’t think he ever hears from them.” She looked up from the tabletop, to Tom, to Olivia. “It’s just Mike.”

  “Not true,” said Olivia. “He has you.”

  “Yes, he does.” Jenny took a long, soft sigh. “He certainly does.”

  Chapter Three

  Jack and Amanda followed the bank of the small stream, the narrow trail drifting in and out of the woods that shadowed the brook. The morning was almost as nice as the day before, perhaps a little cooler.

  They came out into a meadow. A boy sat on a rise in the bank where the stream running beside the meadow widened out to form a pool. He had a fishing pole in hand, the line running into the water.

  Daniel Madsen was twelve years old, had dark red hair, dark freckles on the bridge of his nose. He wore jeans, well-worn hiking shoes and a long-sleeve shirt.

  He looked up at Jack and Amanda’s approach but said nothing.

  “Hey,” said Jack, as much a ‘good morning’ as if he actually said good morning.

  “Hey,” said Daniel, indifferent to the greeting. He looked back to his fishing pole, lifted it, let the line shift in the water.

  “Fishing, huh?” asked Amanda. “Catch anything?”

  Daniel leaned over, lifted a chain that ran into the water, revealing two fish on the line. He lowered the fish back into the water, focused his attention again on his pole.

  “You visitin’ Mrs. Harper?” he asked.

  “Our grandma. I’m Jack,” said Jack. He pointed a thumb in Amanda’s direction. “My sister.”

  “Amanda,” said Amanda.

  “Daniel. Madsen.” He looked up at Jack and Amanda, shaded his eyes. “Your mom and dad came by the house to see my folks yesterday.”

  “Suppose so.”

  “Your dad grew up here, same’s my dad.” He turned back to the stream. “He moved to the city, I hear. That where you’re from?”

  “Yep,” said Amanda. “So you live here. You like it?”

  “Yep.”

  “You know Mike?” asked Jack.

  “Lives in the cabin over yonder? Sure. What about him?”

  “Just wondered.”

  “We met him yesterday,” said Amanda.

  Daniel looked carefully at the fishing line in the water, lifted and lowered the tip of the rod.

  “Nice enough fella,” he said. “Bit odd, I guess. Dad says he ain’t been right in the head since he lost his friend in the caves.”

  “That’s what I hear,” said Jack.

  “It was our grandma’s brother that got lost,” said Amanda. “They were looking for the Christmas Cave.”

  Daniel gave a slow, knowing nod. “Twarn’t the first that got lost in there. Doubt he’ll be the last.”

  “You been in the caves?” asked Jack.

  Daniel only shrugged, stared at his fishing line.

  “Have you looked for the Christmas Cave?” asked Amanda.

  “I know about it. Ain’t really done much searching for it.”

  “What’cha hear?”

  “Well… supposedly, not that I believe it, mind you, but supposedly, some kid came out of the caves after being lost in there three years. Said he’d been living in a cave full a’ wondrous sights and lots of bright colors. Them’s his words. Said it was the Christmas Cave.” Daniel gave a slow sigh. “People been lookin’ for it ever since.”

  “But you ain’t gone in?” asked Jack.

  Daniel gave another shrug. “Like I said. Don’t believe it.” He turned an eye up to Jack. “You goin’ lookin’?”

  “Considerin’ it.”

  Daniel nodded, looked back at his fishing line again, dipped his pole up and down yet again.

  “Expect you should talk to Mike, then,” he said.

  §

  Mike was sitting at his table, coffee cup in hand, when there came a light knock at his door.

  He gave a curious look at the door. A knock on his cabin door was a rather uncommon occurrence. He had very few visitors. Only one, really. Jenny. That certainly wasn’t Jenny’s knock.

  He stood and took the two steps to the door, opened it.

  Jack, Amanda and Daniel looked up at him.

  He loo
ked tentatively apprehensively down at them.

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Hey, Mike,” said Daniel.

  “Daniel.”

  “We’d like to talk to you,” said Jack.

  “About what?”

  “The Christmas Cave,” said Amanda. “We want to talk to you about the Christmas Cave.”

  Mike studied Amanda for a long time, his expression giving away no emotion.

  He stepped back then, motioned for the kids to come in, turned about and retreated into the cabin. He settled into his chair at the table as his guests sought places to sit down. There was only one other chair and the bed.

  Daniel chose the chair, while Jack and Amanda stood before a large, hand-drawn map hanging on the wall.

  “Wow,” said Jack.

  The map detailed a complex maze of tunnels and caverns. Quadrants and divisions reflected different sections and multiple levels.

  “This is what you’ve been doing up here?”

  “Used to come up here summers. Full time now.”

  “Wow,” Amanda said, repeating her brother’s observation.

  Daniel slid back in his chair. “I told ‘em that if they wanted to know about the caves, they should talk to you.”

  “Nothin’ to know, ‘cept stay out of there.”

  “You’re not taking your own advice,” Amanda observed, indicating the map.

  “I got a job to do.”

  “To find Bill?”

  “That’s right.”

  Jack turned around and looked at Mike. He spoke as he settled onto the bed.

  “After all these years?”

  “That’s right.”

  Amanda pointed to a spot on the map. “What are these?” she asked.

  “Collapsed tunnels,” said Mike. “Tremors bringing down the ceilings.”

  “Earthquakes?”

  “Doesn’t take much. Tunnels are hundred years old and more. Little bit o’ shakin’ can bring down whole sections.”

  “You get a lot of earthquakes up here?” asked Jack.

  “Some. Now and again. You can feel ‘em in there more’n out here.” He looked across the room at his map. “It makes the searchin’ tougher.”

  “But after all these years, you still haven’t found it? The Christmas Cave?”

  Mike gave a sharp nod in the direction of the map. “I know where it should be. I know where it was.”