Cave Bug

GEORGE

Are you there, God? It’s me, George Song, the most influential explorer in the 21st century, sweating his butt off at the bottom of a cave. I know you haven’t heard from me before- blame my Chinese Buddhist ancestors- but I could really use some divine intervention right now. Can you hear me from up there?

Thousands of feet above, cracks in the rock glow like a broken halo on the ceiling. I keep praying into the darkness, at least for show.

I can’t sleep. Which is strange, I would’ve killed to sleep just a few weeks ago. Now, hunger darkens my vision, infests every muscle and vein in my body, until I’m reduced to rolling on the ground in pain. I crawl over to my meager respite: a stalactite dripping cave water. I stuck my tongue out, eagerly awaiting the itchy, metallic drops to slip down my throat. I’ve explored thousands of caves, I mean, it’s my job, but nothing quite so torturous as this. I sighed, my stomach recoiling from emptiness. When the opportunity came to explore a never-before-seen Australian cave, 3000 ft underground, I grabbed it, along with a Netflix contract to star in a biographical movie, if I survived. I closed my eyes, remembering how they pitched the title, “Conquerer of the Cave”.

No one knows the silence of caves as intimately as I do. I grew up exploring shallow caves in Australia, learned the quiet drip of water and groans of crumbly rock to heart. Yet here, they seemed to magnify tenfold under the thousands of tons of pressure, until my ears bloated and itched like a madman. I resorted to thinking louder, trying to quiet down the loud and the soft. The strangest thing was, whenever my thoughts stilled, I heard quiet footsteps deep in the rock beneath me. I hadn’t explored the winding, branching tunnels in fear of straying from my water source. Was it possible I wasn’t alone?

Eventually, I found him out.

“H-!” (I could tell he hadn’t spoken in a while), “Hello!” The strange man before me rasped, his eyes wide and bulging. We had bumped into each other while collecting the dripping water. I figured he must have been the footsteps I heard before.

“Hello,” I responded slowly. “Are you an explorer too?”

“No, no.” He shook his head, self-consciously combing back his matted hair, “I’ve been here longer than that. I was part of a mining crew some time ago. Guess they stopped looking for me after a few months.”

I looked hard at the man before me. He was tall and thin, around my height, with matching brown hair and wild eyes. His tanned skin and subtle accent that reminded me too much of my parents gave me a clue he was Chinese-Australian, too. A miner who got stuck and wasn’t saved, huh? I immediately felt a pang of sorrow for the shy, filthy man. I hoped he would be rescued as well, once the authorities came for me.

“Don’t worry, they’ll find us soon.” Suddenly, a pang of hunger and nausea shot through me from head to toe, my stomach lurching as I staggered down on my knees.

“Are you ok?” He cried in alarm.

“Do you have anything to eat?” I groaned.

He nodded rapidly, rushing down a tunnel and coming back up a few minutes later with a stone plate.

“Beetle and cave fish,” He smiled, his teeth small and rotten.

I was too hungry to care; even if he gave me urine and rat bone, I wolfed it down all the same.

I collapsed on the ground after my meal, my stomach churning with the… what did he say? Cave fish? God, I felt tired.

“Water…” I mumbled.

Immediately, he fumbled towards the dripping water, cupping his stained hands and letting me drink out of them.

“Thank you,” I sighed in relief, before slapping the ground in shock, “I can’t believe I didn’t ask before. What’s your name?”

“Me? I’m Bing. What’s yours?”

“George Song, seasoned explorer and TV show host of Wild Wilderness-” I stopped, catching myself. “Sorry, I’m used to introductions.”

Bing’s eyes widened so far his pupils looked like slits.

“That’s incredible, I had no idea I was talking to a celebrity.”

I shrug, smiling, “It’s just my job. So… have you found a way out? Can’t be stuck in here for too long.” I slowly stand up, yawning. Why was I so tired?

“No!” He says, almost too abruptly. He quieted down immediately after catching my eye, “No, there’s no way out. But I’m sure they’ll come to rescue you, soon, yes, because you’re such an important person.” He nibbled on his fingernails.

“I just don’t understand. Why didn’t they keep searching for you, Bug?” I say offhandedly, brushing dust off my pants and yawning.

“It’s Bing. And officials don’t spend much time with people who aren’t as famous as you. Especially an immigrant miner like me.” He laughed quietly, speaking as though recounting an old joke.

I smiled, shrugging, barely catching him mutter, “Yes, I don’t think they would rescue me even if I flung myself at their feet.”

I was about to ask him what he meant before he suddenly jumped up.

“Let me show you around.”

Safe to say, Bug has built a life here for himself. At least, much more than I have. Strangely shaped rocks line the outskirts of a circular stone room, complete with a grass-braided mattress and blanket. But front and center, a round glittering glass mirror was placed like a trophy on a stone pedestal.

“Wow! Nice shaving mirror, huh?” I reached for the glass eagerly.

He grabbed my hand violently, and just as suddenly relaxed it as if he scared himself. I pulled away, confused, but not at him. I blinked again and again, polished the perfect glass once more, and looked at myself in the little mirror. I looked exactly like Bug. Long, greasy brown hair and a dirt-stained, grimy face, tanned skin, and gutted brown eyes. I guess at least my clothes were a little less tattered.

I crashed down on his bed, sighing, fumbling with the mirror before tossing it over to the corner. I looked like a wreck. As if confirming my pain, the mirror shattered on the ground, cracking into thousands of glittering diamond shards. I groaned in annoyance, but I’m sure Bug would clean it up. As if on cue, he shuffled over, his breathing strained and heavy.

“God, when will they come for me?” I muttered.

“Soon,” Bug cooed, “No worry, just sleep.”

I smiled, my eyelids closing full and easily. When was the last time I slept without worry? This grass mattress was nothing compared to my triple-king-sized bed at home, but at least it was better than the cold cave floor. A tingling despair swept through me. When would I go home and take a proper bath? When would I return to my TV show and millions of adoring fans? And the question I tried to ignore the most- could I come back alive at all? Still, the pull of sleep drew me in closer and closer. As I drifted off, a faint drilling lullaby grew louder and louder. I stirred, twisting my head to hear better, but my temples pounded with a blistering headache. Reluctantly, I fell unconscious again.

BING

One look at his long, lean frame, tanned skin, and brown hair, and my heart jumped over the moon. Finally, God had answered my prayers, delivered me a second chance. A second life. But I had to push down this excitement, had to get to work. Now.

I knew he would be hungry, and yes, I knew what to give him for that. Well, don’t blame me. What professional eats food without checking it for impurities? I’m surprised he didn’t know a rare species of Australian cave fish, found at this depth, has a special narcotic ability. Us Chinese miners, we share these stories and warnings through the toil of work, if nothing but to fill the silence. It was almost too easy to drug him with bits of fish, strip off his clothes and wear them as mine.

I took care of all other precautions. I needed to become a perfect copy. I cut my hair to his length. I practiced his Australian accent. I smiled and shrugged every. Single. Damn. Time. He. Messed. Up. “BING”.

Anger boiled through my veins. Men like him know the world as their heaven and the people working it like pitiful ants. I even let him break my treasured mirror like trash. Could only watch as it shattered into a thousand iridescent slivers. Would he have cared, could he have known, it was the only thing reminding me I was human? When you eat cave fish and beetles and breathe dust and wait hopelessly for… no one, not even God? I know, I’ve gritted my teeth and swallowed the pain, people like me are born forgettable. Born less human.

That’s why this is my last chance. A kind of justice to my injustice. A pipe dream I’ll carve out of cave rock and a lucky opportunity. I crawled to the distant drilling sound and waited like a hungry dog. Soon, the ceiling of rocks cracked mightily, shining brilliantly white on the cool stone floor. A voice like God called my name.

“George?” A rope snaked its way down, finally finding my outstretched hand.

“Glad to be back.” I latched onto the rope as it heaved upward, and upward.

“The cave’s unstable; it’ll come crashing down any minute. No other survivors, right?”

“Nothing important.” I tossed a diamond glass shard, a remnant of the broken mirror, from my pocket down to the shadowed cave floor below, catching my reflection one last time before I was hoisted back to the overworld.

That bug would need it.