Free A Boy Called Duct Tape by Christopher Cloud Page B

is divine,” Monroe began. “Not a word, nor a whisper, only the melody of dripping water, the ghostly gurgle and splash of a rippling stream, the quiet roar of a waterfall, and the distant cry of bats in the dark.”
    A rush of wind blew over the cabin, moaning, and an icy chill arched up my spine.
    “Nor is it the darkness that I cherish, for heaven knows I do worship those places totally absent of light,” Monroe continued. “The complete blackness is my blessing. It renews my world. I am in the belly of Mother Cave waiting once again to be reborn, without light and helpless.”
    Kiki and I traded a fidgety glance. Monroe was one scary dude.
    “Nor is it the coolness that draws me again and again to the bowels of creation,” Monroe said. “For I am a man who loathes heat. The cool air of the cave is my sanctuary.” Eyes closed, he sucked in a mighty breath through his nose. “No, it’s none of these things that bring me back to my caves.” A soft, guttural laugh rolled out of his mouth and his eyes popped open with a frightful suddenness. “It’s the smell.”
    “The smell?” Pia asked in a timid voice.
    “Yes, sweet pea, the smell,” Monroe said, opening his nostrils and sucking in a big breath. “The odor of Mother Cave is magnificent. Wet earth mixed with dry dust. The ammonia smell of bat urine. The stink of guano. The decaying bodies of spiders and beetles and cave rats. Tiny carcasses radiating that wonderful smell of death.”
    I snatched a glimpse of Pia. Her eyes were as big as $20 gold coins.
    “Ah, the smell of Mother Cave,” Monroe said. “To me it has the aroma of perfume—I am seduced by it. The cave is a woman and her smells bring me back for more of her sweet love.”
    Complete silence.
    “So,” Monroe said, his daydream at an end. “Are we ready for this grand adventure? Are we ready to traipse through fresh bat guano, to wade in icy, waist-deep water, to crawl belly-down through mud in a place where the sun never shines, the moon never rises?”
    “We’re ready,” I said.
    “And the sweet pea,” Monroe asked. “Is she in or out?”
    “You’ve seen her leg. You’ve seen her walk,” I said. “What do you think?” It had not occurred to me until that moment that Pia might be incapable of exploring a cave. Swimming in Harper’s Hole was one thing, but an underground hike—and it might be an overnighter—was something else. I wasn’t sure she could make it.
    “It’s not the leg I’ve judged,” Monroe said. “It’s the heart. She has plenty of that.”
    I looked at Pia, who pleaded with her eyes. I nodded. “She’s in.”
    “Yes!” Pia cried, raising both hands above her head.
    “Good for you,” Kiki said, giving Pia a fist bump.
    “Is anyone claustrophobic?” Monroe asked.
    We shook our heads.
    “How about nyctaphobic?”
    “What’s that?” Kiki asked, looking unsure.
    A smile brightened Monroe’s face. “A fear of the dark.”
    Very funny , I thought, a wormy chill running up between my shoulders.
    Monroe said he would provide the canoes and headlamps. The lamps would serve as our primary light source. The rest of the supplies and gear were our responsibility.
    “If you don’t get those items I recommend,” Monroe said, “it will be you, not me, who will suffer the consequences. Mother Cave shows little tolerance for those people who believe tomorrow will take care of itself.”
    A flashlight was at the top of Monroe’s list. He said it would serve as a backup light source.
    “And if you believe in the Law of Inverse Perversity,” Monroe said with a big monkeylike grin, “then you’d better bring a third light source.”
    “What’s the Law of what-you-said?” Pia asked, crinkling her nose.
    “It’s a law all spelunkers believe in,” he said. “It states that the second light source, your flashlight, will always fail when it is needed most. Buy a can of Sterno.” Monroe said Sterno was a jelly-like substance that would burn for two