The Zero Game

Anxious to get out, I palm my way across the wagon until I find the jagged wall. As my left hand stays with the wall, my right hand sweeps back and forth like a human metal detector, brushing the ground and making sure I don’t hit another divot. Still crawling, I make a sharp right through the archway at the mouth of the cave. If I wanted, I could stick with the train tracks that run down the center, but right now, the wall somehow feels more stable and secure.

Twenty-five feet later, my knees are aching, the stench is fading, and an opening on my right leads to a parallel tunnel where I can go right or left. There are openings like this in every direction, but I’m pretty sure this is the one that dumped me here. Palming the curved edge of the chunky, muddy threshold, I follow it down to the ground, searching for the scrap of paper I left behind. The list of movies I want to rent is somewhere along the floor. If I can find it, it means I have a chance of following the rest of my bread crumbs back.

Using just my fingertips, I lightly pat the rocky earth, systematically sifting through the pebbles at the base of the threshold. I work from the right-hand side of the opening to the left. I’m bent so close to the ground, blood starts rushing to my head. The pressure builds at the center of my forehead. The list of movies is nowhere to be found. For five minutes, my fingers massage the rocks as I listen for a crinkle. It never comes. Still, I don’t need a scrap of paper to tell me I made a right-hand turn into this section of the tunnel. Feeling my way, I palm the wall, find the edge of the archway, and follow it out to the left.

Heading further up the hallway and crawling diagonally across the train tracks, I reach out in the darkness for the right-hand wall. It should be right in front of me… I stretch out my arm all the way… reaching… reaching… But for some reason, the wall isn’t there. I stop midcrawl and grip the train tracks. If I took a wrong turn…

“Viv!” I call out.

No one answers.

Struggling to get my bearings, I close my eyes in the hope that it’ll be less dizzying. I keep telling myself it’s just a dark tunnel, but in this much darkness, I feel like I’m crawling through my own elongated coffin. My nails dig through the dirt for no other reason than to convince myself there’s no coffin and I’m not trapped. But I am.

“Viv!” I shout again, begging for help.

Still nothing.

Refusing to panic, I scootch around on my butt and slowly extend my leg out as far as it goes. The wall’s gotta be here somewhere. It has to be. I point my toes outward, sliding further from the tracks. Thousands of pebbles grumble underneath me. For all I know, I’m dangling my entire leg into an open hole. But if the wall’s really here – and I’m pretty sure it is – it’ll… Thunk.

There we go.

Keeping my foot pressed against the wall, but still lying on my back, I let go of the train track, lean forward, and hug the wetness of the wall with my hands. I keep patting it and patting it, just to make sure it’s there. It’s exactly where I thought it was – I just can’t believe how much my spatial relations are off. Still huffing and puffing, I let out a deep breath, but my mouth is so close to the wall, I feel a whirlwind of excess dirt and water ricochet back in my face. Coughing uncontrollably, I turn my head, blinking the dirt from my eyes and spitting the rest from my mouth.

Back on my knees, it takes me two minutes to crawl along the rubble, my right hand petting the wall, my left hand tracing the ground for any other surprises. Even when I can feel what’s coming – even when I know it’s just another pile of loose rock – each movement is like closing your eyes and reaching the bottom step on a staircase. You tentatively put your foot out for the final step, but you never know where it’s gonna be. And even when you find it, you still keep tapping against the floor – not just to be safe, but because, for that one unnerving moment, you don’t completely trust your senses.

Finally feeling the rounded curve of the archway as the cave tunnel opens up on my right, I pat the floor, searching for my Triple-A card. Like before, I don’t have a prayer – but unlike last time, I’m done memorizing lefts and rights. This is the cavern with five different tunnels to choose from. I pick the wrong one, and this place really will be my coffin.

“Viv!” I call out, crawling into the room. The whole world is tar. “Please, Viv – are you there?!”

I hold my breath and listen as my plea echoes down each of the tunnels. It rumbles everywhere at once. The original surround sound. Holding my breath and digging my nails into the dirt, I wait for a response. No matter how faint, I don’t want to miss it. But as my own voice reverberates and disappears down the labyrinth, I’m once again buried in underground silence. I look around, but the view doesn’t change. It only adds to my dizziness. The merry-go-round’s started, and I can’t make it stop.