1 Falls Forward, 2 Steps Back

Chapter 1Lina “Hal-lo!” Hands formed into a funnel in front of her mouth, Lina yelled it as loud as she could. “Hal-lo,” came the faint answer. A glimmer of hope formed in Lina’s belly only to be snuffed out when she realized it was the echo of her own voice thrown back from the walls surrounding her. Not that she could see them. It was nearly pitch black where she lay. Uncomfortable as well, but whatever she was lying on must’ve broken her fall because there she was, alive and, if not well, at least reasonably unharmed. She wiggled her toes in her walking boots to confirm the fact, and gingerly lifted one leg after the other from the cushioning pile beneath her. Yes, everything was working as it should. And if she hurt all over, that was only to be expected. Cursing herself for traipsing through the woods alone when she could be safely sitting in Cousin Hans’ house, Lina grimaced as she wiped away the sticky wetness that slowly trickled from her temple. “Hal-lo!” Pause. “Hal-lo…” Oh, but what a mistake it had been, accepting Hans’ invitation! She should have realized that with six children and a seventh on the way, she would be not a guest but another laborer in the endless quest of keeping Hans’ and Annemarie’s children fed and the household going. Cursing the momentary weakness that had led to this, that brief instant of missing people, of being with family, any kind of family, she yelled again and was mocked by the echo. Longingly, she thought of her tidy, if small, room back in town, where she was the only occupant. At Hans’, she had to share the bed with Annemarie’s girls, aged nine, seven, and four. Lina might not have minded as much had not Hilde, the youngest, wet the bed again only yesterday. Unable to get up lest she disturb the baby who was a fretful sleeper, Lina forced herself to lay quietly, suffering the rank wetness until dawn broke. Only then did she climb down from the loft to where Hans and Annemarie slept, their youngest child, a boy this time, close to them in his cradle. “Hal-lo!” Only her own voice answered her, eerily distorted. Lina pushed off what felt like rotten leaves punctuated by the odd branch or two and carefully rose first into a sitting, then a standing position, at any time expecting to bump her already hurting head. Hands stretched out in front of her, she took one small step, then another. The ground was uneven and seemed to slope downward, so she turned and tried the other way, but soon met an incline too steep to attempt. If this was where she had plummeted down earlier it must be night time by now or she would see at least some light coming in from above. There was none though, not even a glimmer, and Lina steeled herself against the very real possibility of having to wait where she was until morning. Then again, she might not be directly underneath the hole she’d fallen into and Hans could be walking in the field looking for her this very moment. “Hal-lo!” Nothing. Lina pivoted to the right and set out again but soon was hindered by a pillar, too bumpy to be man-made. In the distance she heard an occasional drip-drip and realized she was in a cave, moments before she almost slammed face first into what could only be a stalactite. She proceeded even more carefully and soon encountered another pillar. It felt wet, and suddenly parched, she licked it. It tasted gritty but not unpleasant. At least she wasn’t going to die from thirst in here. And not from being exposed to the cold either, for while the grass in the field she had walked earlier had crackled with frost, in here it was so warm she didn’t even miss her shawl. There was no telling when she lost it. Maybe when she fell, but it could have slid off her shoulders sooner, so great had her haste been to catch up with Fridolin. Momentarily disappointed the big brute hadn’t fallen into the hole with her, she plodded on. Dared she hope Fridolin had been smart enough to run back to Hans’ and Annemarie’s homestead? Her cousin’s wife, though preoccupied with the children, would’ve known something was amiss if Fridolin came back without Lina in his wake. Yes, Annemarie would certainly fetch Hans and he and the older boys would go looking for her. All she had to do was keep calling out and wait. They might even find her shawl or Fridolin would and then— Wait, what was that? Lina strained to listen, and sure enough there it was again, voices, faint and barely audible, but unmistakably human. On hands and knees, she crawled back to where she assumed the incline was, the closest she could come to the opening above. “Hil-fe!” and, belatedly remembering it might be someone other than her cousin, “Help! I’m down here. Please help me.” No answer, just the sound of water dripping. Lina yelled and yelled, yelled until her throat hurt, but not only was there no rope thrown down, there was no sign anyone was above her. Yet she heard the sound again, except it came not from the top but from somewhere in front of her. Oddly, not the shouting she’d expected. No, it almost sounded like someone was singing. Very quietly at first, but then the music suddenly seemed to gain power. Adeste Fidelis. Lina fell to her knees, joining in as best as her voice, hoarse from yelling, would allow. The lyrics were jumbled in her head and her voice wavered as tears streamed down her face, but still she sang, sang until the last chord rang out in the distance. “Over here, guys! Over here!” She heard wood splintering, then light blinded her, brighter than any she’d ever seen. Lina folded her hands and began praying. “Pater noster, qui es in coelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adventia regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua.” The angel approached her. Except he didn’t look at all like Lina had imagined. Squinting against the light from the torch he brandished she made out a sturdy body in dark clothes other than his vest, which was bright yellow with stripes on it. Rather than a halo, a strangely-shaped helmet crowned his head. “Move your light, Paul! You’re blinding her,” snapped a woman’s voice, and a second figure appeared next to the first one. Momentarily distracted by the second angel’s bizarre outfit, Lina didn’t follow the beam of light immediately, but when she did, she saw she was, in fact, in a large cave. All around her were stalactites and stalagmites. “Jesus Christ, dude. Just look at that!” Another beam of light illuminated the ground around her. She was kneeling on the pile of debris she’d awoken on, which she assumed had fallen from above when she did. There were no leaves though, just dirt or rather some kind of rotten matter out of which poked the sticks she’d felt earlier, smooth, oddly-shaped and gleaming white in the light. Someone screamed, the sound ricocheting off the cave walls. It was her, for not only were the sticks not sticks, but what her hand had closed tightly around was the braided collar with the loop that Fridolin had worn, rotted but still adorning what remained of the spine and head that had once been attached to her faithful companion and protector.