“We should go with them,” Hana said, her left heel sinking into the mud. “Any place has to be better than here.”
—
Keishin lost track of how long they walked through the tunnel, but he felt their continuous descent in his ears. He swallowed hard to clear them.
Hana walked alongside him. “You should not have let go of my hand.”
“And you should have run when you had the chance,” Keishin said. “I think we’ve established by now that we’re both too stubborn for our own good. Can we agree that arguing about this is pointless?”
“I was not going to argue with you. I was going to thank you for looking out for me,” Hana said. “But you need to stop. I told you. Nothing here is as it seems. Not even me.”
“You keep saying that like I’m supposed to understand what you mean. If you’re not who you say you are, then please, for god’s sake, tell me the truth. You owe me that much. I’m a scientist, Hana. I believe what I can see and what I can prove. All you’ve shown me is a woman who is selfless, strong, brave, and devoted to the people she loves. Until you show me evidence to the contrary, what you’re saying remains a hypothesis. A bad one.”
Light, where there should have been darkness, poured through the end of the tunnel.
Hana shielded her eyes. “Is that the sun?”
—
The children ran out of the tunnel and into a seemingly endless rock garden. Pruned trees, sculpted bushes, and water fountains dotted the pebbled landscape. A wide, fast-moving streamsnaked through the garden, rushing under arched bridges and gurgling over rocks. Above the garden, the sun lit a clear blue sky.
“How is this possible?” Keishin gaped at the sky. “We were descending the whole time. How did we get to the surface?”
Hana watched clouds drift over them. “We did not,” she said, pointing to a cloud. “Look.”
The cloud moved, revealing a patch where the sky thinned. The cavern’s rock ceiling showed through it.
“We are still underground,” Hana said.
“We’re still trapped,” Keishin said, his voice hollow.
“Or we are exactly where we should be. We were searching for the children, and now we found them. My parents have to be here.”
“Play with us.” A child tugged on Keishin’s arm, squeezing his wrist with its talons. “In the water. You promised.”
“Yes, I did.” Keishin walked over to a tree and plucked a leaf from it. “We will have a boat race.”
“A race!” the chorus of children chimed.
“A race with rules. You may each choose only one leaf as your boat,” Keishin said. “And you must run after it as it flows down the stream. It must never, ever leave your sight. If it does, you lose the race. Do you understand?”
“Rules. Leaves.” The children scattered through the garden gathering leaves from trees.
“I think I know what you have in mind,” Hana said, lowering her voice.
“I hope it works.”
The children returned with their leaves. Keishin crouched by the stream and set his leaf boat on the water. He held on to it,waiting for all the children to take their places along the stream. “Ready?”
The children nodded.
“Go!” Keishin dropped his leaf into the water.
The children let go of their leaves and chased after them as the stream carried them away.
“Now, Hana,” Keishin whispered. “Run.”
Chapter Forty-nine
