Spelunk

"Okay, Chet, gimme a hand," Brett grunted, hauling their climbing gear out of the back of his mud-stained old Prius. His twin brother wasn't even on the same planet as him, though; too busy standing at the base of the cliff, gazing up at the sheer, ninety degree rock wall inches from his sneakers.

"Man: is that sexy, or is that sexy?" Chet mused, letting out a low whistle.

That boyish gleam in Chet's baby blue eyes told Brett that he was going to get absolutely no help unloading their gear. Honestly, Brett expected nothing less. Chet usually had a one-track mind when they went out for climbs. The only thing within his tightly-tunneled vision was the cliff, and nothing would get through his thick skull until he conquered it. Brett just rolled his eyes and took care of their gear himself - as usual. A fact Chet was totally unaware of until he heard the Prius' hatchback-style trunk shut. When his sun-kissed face whipped sharply toward the noise, Chet's grin fell into a sheepish frown.

"I did it again, didn't I?" he muttered, "sorry, Bro."

"Ah, no worries," Brett said, slapping his younger brother playfully on the arm, "hurry up and get your harness on, Turkey. I wanna beat you to the top before dinner."

Chet's devilish grin snapped back into place, snatching up his bag of gear from the ground. "Oh, you're on, Wiseass," he crowed, "Last one there is a little bitch!"

Brett couldn't help but catch his twin's contagious smile. They'd been deadlocked in friendly competition ever since they were in the womb. Twenty-three years later, that competitive spark was still going strong, and Brett loved every second of it. There wasn't a single extreme sport the two of them hadn't done: snowboarding, kayaking, base jumping, cliff diving, etc. If it resulted in an adrenaline rush, the twins were down for it without hesitation. Of every crazy, extreme sport they'd done, though, free climbing was by far their favorite.

Over the past three years, Brett and Chet Hartman had climbed every rock, hill, and canyon within their home state of Colorado. At least, they thought they had until a week ago. One of their climbing buddies mentioned stumbling across this cliff on his blog, and the twins just couldn't resist checking it out for themselves after reading about it. The drive out to it had taken a full night and day, and they'd gotten lost twice. Just like Chet, though, Brett was in love the second he laid eyes on it. As soon as their harnesses were strapped and their safety rigging secure, the race was on. And Brett was bound and determined to beat his brother to the finish line.

The weather was perfect for climbing, and the climb itself was even more challenging than their buddy's blog advertised. The twins were skilled climbers, though, both successfully making it to the top within a few hours. Brett put up a heck of a fight, but Chet scrambled over the lip of the cliff first, sprawling on the wide ledge above it with a triumphant whoop.

"Boo-yah!! That's right!" Chet grinned, pumping his sweaty, exhausted fist in the air with a wheezy giggle. "Who's the man?!"

"Yeah, yeah, rub it in," Brett groaned, holding out a hand for help getting over the cliff's edge, "If you're done gloating... do you mind...?"

Chet immediately sat up and grabbed his twin's hand, pulling Brett onto the ledge beside him. "I got you, Bro," he grinned, "...or should I start calling you 'Little Bitch' now?"

"You're so funny, I forgot how to laugh," Brett scoffed. Without warning, he wrapped an arm around his twin's neck and pulled him into a sideways hug, scrubbing his knuckles into Chet's straw-colored scalp. "I still beat you by five minutes where it counts!"

Chet snorted with laughter, eventually squirming out of the noogie. His uncontrollable chuckles slowly faded away after a minute, his smile falling into a curious frown, as something behind Brett suddenly caught his eye.

"Hey," he mused, "check it out: what is that?"

Brett followed his brother's gaze, intrigued, narrowing his eyes puzzledly. For a second, he had no idea what his twin was talking about, until he spied a patch of darkness hidden behind a few scruffy bushes. His instincts drew him closer to it, parting those brittle, dry branches with his hands. The moment he did, he knew right away what he was looking at: the mouth of a small cave.

A gust of damp, warm wind ruffled Brett's curls from deep within the cave, sending a small shiver through him despite how hot it was. He backed off a little instinctively, coughing into his elbow at the strong, sour odor of mold and mildew it carried. Brett was ready to pull the weeds back over the cave right away and forget it was even there. Before he could move a muscle, though, Chet was already at his elbow.

"Whoa," Chet murmured, his voice echoing down the dark, earthen tunnel before them, "is that a cave?! Dude, this is epic! Wonder how deep it goes? You packed the flashlights, right?"

Brett stared at his younger twin in shock, shaking his head. "Dude, don't even think about it," he said. "It's not safe: we don't have the right equipment for this, and it'll be dark before we know it anyway."

"Aww, what's wrong?" Chet cooed, elbowing Brett with a mocking grin, "You scared? Is that it?"

"No," Brett argued, shoving his brother back assertively, "I'm just saying it's not smart. C'mon and help me set up camp, okay? We don't have time for this shit."

Chet didn't hear a word his brother said. Without warning, he turned on the flashlight app on his phone and backed toward the cave; hands tucked into his armpits, elbows waggling, and clucking loudly like a chicken. "Widdle Bitch is too scawed of the dark," he crowed, "don't worry, Widdle Bitch: Papa Chet will take lots of pictures to show you what you missed!" With one final hoot of laughter, Chet turned and took off jogging into the cave before Brett could stop him.

"Dammit, Chet!" Brett cried, "get back here! I'm serious! Chet!!"

Either Chet couldn't hear him, or his tunnel vision was acting up again. Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Brett turned on his own flashlight app and followed his brother into the cave. It was the only way to make sure Chet wouldn't do something stupid and get himself hurt... or worse.

Although the cave seemed small when he was on the outside looking in, Brett's assumptions about its size were quickly proven wrong. After he squeezed through the entrance, the cave widened into a massive cavern. Glittering stalactites hung like massive icicles from the ceiling, forming an intricate pattern of ridges over Brett's head. The biggest stalactites seemed to be concentrated around the edges of the cave, growing steadily smaller the closer they got to the middle. The very center of the cave's ceiling had barely any, apart from a cluster of small stalactites that formed a shallow ridge running the entire length of the cave from front to back.

As angry and on edge as he was because of Chet, Brett couldn't help but stop and admire the cave's natural formations. The moment he did, another gust of wind ruffled his curls. He covered his nose with his shirt and coughed again, stumbling from the rank odor that assaulted his senses. It was more than just mold and mildew this time; that wind absolutely reeked, like rotten eggs or that ham sandwich Chet accidentally left in the glove compartment once. Brett windmilled his free arm, trying to catch his balance, but it was harder to do so than he expected. The ground under his sneakers was weirdly soft and slippery. Kind of like he was trying to get traction on a waterbed smeared with lard.

"Chet!" he whisper-yelled, raising his phone higher to see better in the dark, "Chester, where are you?! I swear to all that is holy, if you don't answer me right now-!"

"Dude, chillax," Chet called back, his voice echoing from deeper within the cave. "Come on, you gotta see this!"

Brett swallowed dryly, staring in the direction he'd heard Chet's voice. Toward the back of the cave was a tunnel, much lower and narrower than the chamber he was standing in. His nose told him right away that the foul air was coming from it. Unfortunately, the dancing light bouncing off the tunnel walls told him Chet was in there, too. Wetting his dry lips, Brett braced his hand on the tunnel wall, taking a deep breath before ducking through the narrow gap.

The ground was just as slick within the tunnel as it was in the larger chamber. Brett had to keep one hand on the tunnel wall the whole time, just to keep from falling over. He expected the walls to be damp - he was in a cave, after all - but the amount of moisture clinging to the rock was alarming. When he stopped again to brace against another gust of stinky air, he realized something else. The slimy rock under his hand was warm to the touch... and the further he traveled down the tunnel, the hotter it seemed to get.

"Chet," he called again, "this isn't funny anymore, Man! Something's not right. We need to get out of here ASAP, okay?!"

More clucking echoed from the tunnel's exit up ahead, followed by Chet's contagious laughter. "Dude, you are wound way too tight!" Chet ribbed, "just hurry up and get your scaredy-cat ass in here already! I promise, it'll be worth it!"

Every instinct Brett had told him to about-face and run like hell back to the safety of daylight and fresh air. He couldn't just leave his twin alone in this dark, freaky cave, though. Brett would never forgive himself if anything happened to his little brother, especially if he could've taken action to prevent it. With a nervous swallow, he inched closer to the tunnel's exit, groaning as another wave of hot, rank air hit him. Before he could take the plunge through it into the stiflingly hot chamber beyond, a hand landed on his shoulder with startling force.

Brett swore under his breath as that hand yanked him back into the tunnel, a sound that was stifled a moment later by the hand's mate. Bewildered and shocked beyond words, Brett's eyes widened to the size of softballs when he recognized the person they belonged to: Chet.

"C'mon, Slowpoke," Chet called from the chamber up ahead. "You coming or not?!"

Chet's tanned face was so white in the glow of Brett's phone flashlight, Brett thought for a moment he was staring at his brother's ghost. Confused and honestly terrified, Brett's eyes bounced back and forth from Chet's panic-stricken face to the tunnel's exit. How could Chet yell for him in another part of the cave, and be standing right behind him at the same time?

"That's not me," Chet whispered, his hand tightening on Brett's shoulder, "you were right: it's not safe. We need to leave... now."

Brett had so many questions, but he knew better than to waste time asking them right now. He could sense his brother's fear as easily as if it were his own, nodding his understanding. Hand in hand, the twins made their way back up the tunnel, moving as quickly and quietly as they could. More hot, smelly air buffeted their backs as they fled, making it that much harder to keep their footing. The gentle slope of the ground seemed a lot steeper on the way out than it had going in, too. by the time the tunnel's entrance was in sight, the grade of the incline was too high to walk anymore; the twins were forced to crawl along on their hands and knees to get any sort of traction, pulling themselves up the slippery tunnel like rats scurrying up a sewer pipe.

"Hey, Man, what's taking so long?" Chet's disembodied voice called behind them. "You're not chickening out on me again, are you?! Come on: don't leave me hanging, Dude!"

Brett looked up at his twin, too panicked to even think, but his younger twin just shook his head vehemently. Chet grabbed his hand again and held it tight, pulling Brett out of the tunnel with him. Brett sighed in relief at the sunlight streaming through the cave's entrance up ahead, eager to feel fresh air on his face again. Before either he or Chet could get to their feet, though, the entire cavern floor shifted underneath them. Brett barely had time to register what happened when the floor tilted sharply, causing him to tumble back toward the tunnel again.

Chet's arm shot out at the last second, catching Brett's arm before he could fall down that deep, dark hole. The whole cave was rumbling around them so violently, Brett could barely breathe. It had to be an earthquake, which meant they needed to get out of that cave pronto. Brett's worst fears were realized a moment later, when - to his horror - he saw the cave's entrance steadily collapsing right before his eyes. He didn't take the time to shout a warning or think, though: driven fully by instinct, he grabbed the collar of Chet's tank top and dragged him out of that cave as fast as he could.

Brett had never been in a cave-in before, but he was shocked by how slowly the roof fell in on them. Instead of cracking, the walls seemed to bend and buckle on either side of him. It reminded him almost of a giant clam, slowly closing its shell. Brett tossed Chet out of the cave ahead of him before diving through the narrowing gap himself. As he lay there in the dirt beside his twin - both of them shaking and gasping for air - Brett looked over his shoulder with a dry gulp. Just in time to see the cave seal itself behind him. The stalactites and stalagmites at the entrance meshed together so perfectly... like razor sharp, snaggled teeth, set within a pair of massive jaws. That thought barely crossed his mind when the entire cliff shook beneath him.

With no warning at all, the cliff crumbled away in a huge landslide. Brett yanked Chet close to him and hugged him tight, not even having time to scream before the wave of loose earth washed them both right over the edge. They bounced and tumbled together like ping-pong balls all the way down, clinging to each other for dear life. The next thing they knew, the twins landed at the base of the cliff in a tangled heap, half-buried in a huge pile of dirt.

Both of them had been banged up pretty good. Brett felt like one big bruise, covered in scrapes and scratches of varying size all over his body. His right ankle felt wrong - probably sprained beneath all that dirt - but he didn't have the energy or courage to pull it out and look at it right now. Chet didn't seem much better off; he looked about as bad as Brett felt, clutching his left wrist against his sternum with a pained grimace. Brett was pretty sure his brother's arm wasn't supposed to have that many bends in it, but at the moment he didn't really care. They were both still alive: that's all that mattered.

While Brett cannibalized their broken gear to make Chet a makeshift splint for his arm, a deep bellowing high overhead made him look toward the sky automatically. His jaw fell open in shock, as he couldn't wrap his head around what he was seeing. The whole cliff they had been sitting on minutes ago was completely gone... and a huge, hairy, four-legged creature as big as a mountain was striding off into the sunset.

Chet was so delirious from pain, he didn't seem to notice the enormous thing at all. Brett didn't trust his own eyes either, shifting all his focus back to his brother just to keep from going insane. Thankfully, a low-flying helicopter spotted them around nightfall, giving them a much-needed lift to the hospital.

The next morning, Brett had convinced himself that what he saw wasn't real. It had to be a trick of the light, or maybe he'd hit his head on a rock during the landslide. Chet claimed not to remember anything after they finished their climb, further confusing him. Instead of worrying about what was or wasn't real, Brett chose to pretend that climb had never happened.

He and his twin recovered fully from their injuries, embracing their love of extreme sports wholeheartedly again as soon as they could. A few months later, however, when one of their friends invited them to go cave diving in Mexico, Brett refused flat out.

"What's wrong?" their friend teased, "You afraid or something?" He laughed in Brett's face and made chicken noises, but his goofy guffaws were silenced right away by Chet's knuckles crashing into his jaw.

"Shut the hell up," Chet snarled, shaking with rage, "My brother is braver than you will ever know! C'mon, Brett: let's ditch this loser."