266A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers! You are all awesome! That being said, please don't kill me for the cliffie you are about to experience.
Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure. Sad, isn't it?
CHAPTER TWO
Riley
To say that I was panicking was an understatement. To say that that was an understatement was an understatement. I was shaking and my thoughts were scattered in a hundred different directions. What if we ran out of air? What if Abby had gotten lost or hurt trying to help us? What if Ben was worse than he was letting on, and seriously injured? What if I had left the water running in the bathroom before we left for vacation?
I tried to stop breathing so fast and get a grip. I was making my headache worse, and the last thing I needed was to throw up. You're fine, I told myself sternly. There's plenty of oxygen, Abby will be back soon, Ben says he's okay, and it's Ben's water bill, not yours. So stop it.
I took the deepest breath I could and tried to hold it, but that made my head hurt, too. I really hoped I didn't have a concussion, but experience was letting me know I was kidding myself. I crawled over to the opposite wall, trying to release some adrenaline.
"Riley?" Ben's voice was concerned. I had to say something, or he would only worry more, but I couldn't think of a single thing that wouldn't scream "I'm having a panic attack."
"Riley." This time, the word was a command. Calm down. "Talk to me, okay?"
"About what?" My voice was choked off. I clenched my hands into fists to try and keep them from trembling.
"Computers or chocolate cake or my car, if you have to. Anything."
That took me by surprise. "I'm allowed . . . to insult your car?" I gasped.
I could picture Ben's grimace. "I didn't say 'insult,'" he complained, but I could tell that he was happy I responded.
"What . . . else would I have to say about your car?"
"I don't know. Maybe that it's a classic?"
I snorted. "A c-classic 1993 Volvo?"
"It's an '94."
"It's an artifact," I said.
"Doesn't that seem appropriate?"
I groaned. "Whatever, Ben. I just don't get it."
"Get what?"
"You and old things. Your obsession with caves. And dark holes. And tombs. It's a little creepy, you know?" The distraction hadn't lasted long. I felt the darkness smothering me again, but Ben went right on.
"I'm not interested in the caves," he said. "I'm interested in what's inside them. Actually, it's more of the history of the things inside them . . ."
I hugged my knees to my chest. "So go to the library. I'm sure they've got all kinds of books on the Pueblo Indians. Or I could Google them for you, and we could avoid all these fun little trips in the dark."
Ben must have heard the edge in my voice. "Riley, are you okay?"
No! my thoughts screamed, but I said,"Never better. Let's just get out of here before I start thinking we can't."
"We're going to be fine."
"S-sure, Ben."
"Really. We'll get out of this, kid."
I didn't even bother to protest at being called a kid.
NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT
Ben
I knew I was losing Riley to the panic again when his voice started to tremble and he didn't respond to my last comment. It was time for a new tactic.
"We should search the back of the cave for a way out," I suggested. I was sure Riley would be only too happy to comply, and it would keep him occupied for a while.
"I thought you said . . . there was no way out." Riley definitely sounded worse. I could hear him hyperventilating again.
"I only got a glimpse of the back wall. Maybe I missed something." It was highly unlikely that there really was a way out, but Riley needed to move, needed to feel like he was doing something to get us out. I knew that waiting was just making him more anxious.
"Okay," Riley said. "Where d-do I start?"
"Over by me. Feel around for cracks in the wall."
I heard him crawl over beside me, displacing loose rocks and splashing into puddles. "Ugh," he complained. "Now m-my favorite hoodie's soaked."
I laughed, but I knew the feeling. I was wet, too. In fact, I was sitting in a puddle. I tried to move over a little to a dry spot, but pain stabbed my leg again and I decided against moving. My left leg was pins and needles from the knee down. I groaned.
Riley stopped moving. "Ben?" he asked, his voice decidedly nervous.
"I'm fine," I reassured him "Just wet and cold. My leg's fallen asleep."
"I still have my backpack. You can use my blanket." I smiled, noticing that the shake had left Riley's voice. Maybe worrying about me was the best distraction available.
"Sounds good. I hope it's not wet, too."
I heard Riley move away, presumably to find his bag. After a moment, I heard him muttering under his breath. "Crap!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Everything in here is ruined! Soaked! I had perfectly good food in here from breakfast, and that blanket, and my iPod. This vacation just keeps getting better and better!"
"Be glad it wasn't your laptop," I told him, smiling.
"If I get back to the hotel and my laptop's been stolen, I'm never going to speak to you again Ben," Riley threatened, and then added, "Except to choose the next trip, so it doesn't end up in disaster like this."
"Okay. Your choice next time. Where are we going?"
"Someplace dry. And not history-related in any way. How about the Apple Store?" Riley moved back over to me, and started feeling the walls as I had instructed. As he edged along the wall, he continued to suggest other destinations, which got progressively more technology related. Suddenly there was a tremendous splash, and Riley stopped talking.
"Riley?" I said.
"Ugh! I just stepped into a hole full of water. I'm wet up to my knees. First my hoodie, now my Converse . . ."
But I had stopped listening after "hole full of water," a horrible thought occurring to me. When Riley and I had first stepped into the cave, it was as dry as the baking desert outside. If Riley had just stepped into knee-deep water . . .
"Ben?" Riley asked, confused by my sudden silence.
I was still too shocked to answer him. How long had it been since the ceiling had fallen? Half an hour? Maybe less? It would take Abigail at least two hours to get back to her car and maybe fifteen minutes from there to drive to a place with cell phone reception.
In the very least, that was four and a half hours for her to come back with help.
If there was already a foot and a half of water filling the divots in the ground and making puddles on the cave floor . . .
Riley and I would drown before help could arrive.
A/N: Um, yeah. I know I have still kept the scenario a little vague, but that's intentional. Oh, and just as a reminder, you don't get an update if you kill me =D. Please review!