2. Present Day

CHAPTER TWO

PRESENT DAY

MAX

T hree meters into the cave, it's clear the bikes aren't going any further as it narrows—I'm not sure we're going any deeper. Outside, the wind is screaming, and sand is pushing into the cave. Is it possible to be buried alive in a cave?

My heart is beating fast, but the only choice we have is to go deeper and hope like hell there's nothing else sheltering in the cave. I'm not sure which is worse, being eaten by a wild animal or being skinned by a sandstorm, and I don't want to find out.

"Grab the saddlebags," Harrison says, still wearing his helmet because there's enough sand whipping around to be hazardous to our eyes. "And climb over."

He holds his hand out for the bags. It takes me a couple of goes to get them free. I'm always calm in an emergency, but it's not usually me having the emergency. This time, it's all out of my control.

I do as he asks and pass them to him before climbing over his bike to join him.

He hands my bags to me and nods. "You all good? "

With the helmet on, he can't tell if I'm freaking out or cool. I nod. "I'm good."

He's staring at me. His gaze is drilling into me. "Seriously, Max. If you're about to panic, I need to know."

I'm not about to lose my shit and do something dumb. "I'm concerned but not panicking."

"So about a seven out of ten on the ‘we're fucked scale'?"

I laugh. It's a rating we've been using since we were kids. Though back then, the things we were worried about now seem like three or fours. "Yeah, about that."

"Right, I'm going to attempt to squeeze through. I don't want both of us getting stuck. Can you wait?"

I don't want either of us getting stuck, but I don't have any other ideas. "Sure." I'm not going to get buried alive in a couple of minutes. "Wait, what if there's something in there?"

I'm envisioning giant snakes or beetles that will strip his flesh. I may have watched one too many horror movies growing up.

"I'll take my chances because the storm will definitely kill us." Harrison removes his helmet and holds it out to me, keeping his head turned away from the wind. He pulls the bandana from around his neck up to cover his mouth and nose. He pulls a small flashlight out of a pocket in his pants and flicks it on, leaving me holding his helmet.

His saddlebags rest at my feet with sand piling up against my boots. Despite my helmet, the wind is howling like we've done something to offend the local gods.

There was no storm in the forecast. Harrison and the guide checked before we headed out, as this is the most remote part of our journey. Is our guide caught in the storm? Did he set up camp only to have it tossed aside? If he's dead, will anyone search for us?

My thoughts become more morbid with each passing second. My breath echoes in my ears, and the helmet becomes too tight. It's panic, that's all.

I consciously slow my breaths and think of something else. The ruins we stopped at to eat our sandwiches in the shade of a stone wall. Harrison sitting next to me, lips curved in a smile at something I said, eyes hidden by sunglasses. I don't know what—I think we were talking about what it might have looked like back when my great-grandfather was here and wondering if he'd ever sat there with his friends. I don't remember him as I was only five when he died. But Jay did.

I take a step and watch the sand shift, filling in my footprints as if I never existed.

The beam of a torch bounces toward me, and the knot of tension in my gut eases.

Harrison sticks his hand out of the gap and beckons me closer. I lean in, and he flips my visor up. "It widens out after a few meters. Give me the bags and helmet."

He's shouting at me to be heard. I give him a thumbs up to show I understand, then pass him his things. Out of the storm and into the dark. It's fine. I take off my helmet, pull up my bandana, and follow him, trusting him.

The way I always have.

I try not to think about all the times we got into trouble. The broken push bikes and bones from homemade jumps and stunts gone wrong. Forts constructed in the bush that resulted in splinters and cuts and insect bites. At some point, I started shoving plasters into my pocket before we headed out because someone was going to need them.

The rock wall brushes against my back and stomach, and my arms are spread as I inch along, which makes the bags and helmet that much heavier. I focus on the light coming from his flashlight, not the way the rock is now pressing against me.

He said it widens out.

It's not getting closer.

But I'm bigger than he is.

What if I don't fit?

The storm is screaming, and my heart is pounding. My panic is hitting a nine, and that's not good. Panicking will only make this worse. That I can reason with myself is a good sign. Maybe I'm not panicking at a nine, even though the rock is embracing me and it's dark except for the pale beam of light leading me deeper.

With each shuffling step, the noise dies down.

Isn't that nice? Now I can hear myself think.

That means the sand won't be attacking me. I'm sweaty, and my jacket is catching on to the rock. I'm breathing hard. Until today I never thought of myself as claustrophobic, but I'm getting a taste of fear, and I don't like it.

Before I can worry about what it means, the rocks release me. I'm through. I put the bags and helmet down and take several deep, slow breaths. After the noise of the storm, the cave is eerily quiet, and the howling seems far away.

But it's bloody dark.

Harrison directs the beam of light at my feet. "All good?"

"Yeah. Was a little tighter than I was expecting." He could've warned me.

He laughs. "All the better for keeping the sand out."

"You're not worried about having to dig our way out? "

"That's a problem for when the storm passes. Right now, it might be a good idea to have a bite to eat and check this place out."

"Check for scorpions and snakes…" If we wander too far from the crevice, will we be able to find it in the dark?

"I doubt there's much food for them in here." My eyes are getting used to the dim interior.

Harrison crouches and rummages through his bags. The beam of light spills over the floor toward me.

He pulls something out with a satisfied grunt, then there's a snap, and he's bathed in a green glow. "This will give us about six hours." He walks over and wedges the glow stick into the rock near the crack. "When the storm blows itself out and dawn comes, there'll be daylight to guide us."

"Yeah." Of course. Assuming we aren't buried alive in here.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "That was the least convincing, yeah, I've ever heard. The storm will pass, and we'll be back on the road tomorrow." He presses another stick into my hand. "I suggest you hang it around your neck."

I do as suggested because if we're glowing, it's going to be harder to lose each other.

He snaps and shakes another and follows his own advice. His face is lit up in a lurid green glow. The angle of it makes him appear sinister, with sharp cheekbones and hollow dark eyes.

I must appear the same to him. A creepy apparition, lurking in the cave.

He runs his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. "I wish we had a bottle of something to drink."

"And a deck of cards," I quip .

"Strip poker?" He grins, looking like a maniac. He's always been the life of every party.

Jay was my brother, but it was Harrison who I admired. He had his dreams, and he followed them. And he encouraged me to follow mine. In high school, when they were talking about joining the army, I claimed that was what I wanted to do also. While Harrison saw through my need to belong, Jay accused me of copying. For a couple of years, things had been rough between Jay and me. He and Harrison had been adults, and I'd still been a kid.

That space is what I needed to figure out what I wanted to do and to go after it.

I groan. "The winner would be the first one naked and shaking the sand out of their clothes."

He laughs. "Sounds like everyone wins!"

I join in with his laughter because it feels good, and I realize that some of the fear has left me. "Let's crack open the emergency rations."

But I'm still thinking about Harrison naked. I've seen him almost naked plenty of times and never thought anything of it—aside from noticing when he started getting ripped—including this morning after he'd showered. Though rinsing off with a bucket of water is a pretty shit shower, it's all that we have in the desert. He stood in the dawn sun wearing only his boxer briefs, his dark hair dripping onto his shoulders, and the water running over the muscles on his chest and abs, carved from years of training. And I wanted to run my hand over him…

Now, he's just as sweaty and sandy as I am, but I want to know what he looks like wearing only the glow stick.