There is yet a bit of time before we have to leave to make it to town for the party. I spend a good portion of it looking for Dirk and talking to Elmer. While he is infrequently in his actual office, Elmer is not difficult to find if one is familiar with his strange habits.

The portly little man really likes to swim. You’d never guess it by his physique, but there is a lake in one of the lower natural caves that is a frequent haunt for many who want to avoid turning into potatoes by virtue of living underground. I for one cannot stand the place, but Elmer swears that he does his best thinking while floating between the stalagmites and pillars in the lake deep below the surface of the earth.

And that is where I find him - drifting on the surface of the disturbingly still lake. His feet dangle over the side of his duck-shaped float and his hands trail chubby fingers in the cool water. I refuse to swim out to him because even though it is not deep water it is deeply frightening water.

The only thing more emotionally disturbing than being underground is being underwater underground.

The other reason I refuse to swim out to him is because he doesn’t wear a bathing suit.

The good thing about caves so far below the ground is that they are very, frighteningly, quiet. It is not impossible for me to talk to him from all the way over here while he remains all the way over there. Both the stillness of the cave and the calm surface of the water contribute to the ease of having a conversation at a normal volume across a somewhat significant distance.

“I know about the party, July,” Elmer speaks before I get the chance to. He bounces off one pillar and slowly drifts off at a perpendicular angle to the shore.

“So what should I do about it?”

“Have fun.” The duck rotates lazily, stirred by no current at all.

“I’m serious Elmer,” I plead, and worry that it sounds like childish whining to the man old enough to be my father. “It’s a public event where just anyone could show up.”

“You’re just anyone.” He stirs the water with lazy fingers. “You show up.”

“Really? That’s your best advice?”

“It’s not my worst advice.”

I catch on that something isn’t right. I usually get more out of him. I scan the shoreline for any kind of evidence that might give me more insight into his state of mind.

There are a few empty bottles, but the layer of dust that crusts their surface suggests that they have been here a lot longer than he has been floating. His clothes are neatly folded on the empty lifeguard’s chair. The safety lights are the only ones that brighten the room, not the lifeguard’s duty light. My actual boss is here without a lifeguard on duty. We are not supposed to do that.

But there is supposed to be a lifeguard on duty. It’s in the safety bylaws that make life this far underground at all feasible. Never go somewhere without light. Never dig straight down. Never swim without a lifeguard.

“Who’s on duty today?”

“I gave Steve a bag of sugar free gummy bears.” I am aware of what those do to one’s gut. I am also aware that Steve has a sweet tooth unrivaled by anyone in the entire subterranean community.

“That’s a war crime, that is.”

I get a chuckle out of him. He’s not completely gone off to sulking.

“You can judge me however you like,” Elmer bounces off a stalagmite lazily, putting himself into a slow spin. “I’m not going to kill myself. I just wanted to be alone to figure out where I went wrong this time.”

“Nobody could have planned for the drill to hit an occupied bathroom.” It is the truth I’m telling myself to quiet the little voice that insists that the failure was all my fault. “Nobody could possibly have planned for someone to be evacuating their bowels at that exact time.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I could have targeted somewhere that wasn’t a bathroom,” he grumbles. His low voice makes it clear that the statement is not intended directly for me. The way the water and hard stone walls reflect sound makes it seem like the growl is directly in my ear.

I think back to the mission maps.

“It wasn’t a bathroom on our map.”

“It wasn’t,” he agrees.

“What was it?”

“Storage closet.” There is a little splash as he rocks the inflatable duck while sitting up a little bit to look across the cave in my direction for the first time.

“Where did you get the map?”

“It was supposed to have been an original blueprint from when the fortress was constructed.”

We are both thinking like spies for real at last.

“Wouldn’t it have to have had plumbing? Pipes can’t be run like that without major construction and we didn’t have them marked on the map to avoid.”

“Where did I get the map?” Elmer starts paddling in earnest back to the shore. “Where did I get that map?” he repeats several times in a row, sounding angrier with each repetition.

I turn around and desperately cover my face with both hands when he wades out of the shallow water. The man does not believe in such things as modesty or dignity, nor does he have any desire to care what anyone’s opinions of his appearance are. I have seen quite enough of him for one lifetime.

He wraps a towel around himself to defend against the chill of the air vents and grabs his clothing from their neatly folded pile. Without even bothering to get dressed he walks right through the doorway and into the public hall. His wet feet slap against the smooth stone and leave behind wide footprints. I follow in his wake.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner,” he complains to me in a conspiratorially low voice as we head in the direction of his cramped little office. “I know there is a reason it went wrong. It can’t have been nothing but chance.”

On the way, I catch sight of Terry sprinting through a side hallway. He makes eye contact and quickly changes directions.

“Hey July!” echoes through the tunnel uncomfortably while the two of us hurry along. Our footsteps make a mismatched hard heel click and wet fleshy smack. I try to ignore Terry and instead focus on the task at hand.

“July wait!” Terry’s shout is insistent. His running speed is faster than our determined hustle. When he catches up he is panting with the effort.

I stop and turn to ask him what he wants, but Elmer is escaping without slowing down at all. A deeply exasperated sigh escapes me without any chance for me to attempt to prevent Terry from knowing how stressed I feel right this very moment.

“Dirk finished a tunnel close to the town,” Terry gets out in a hurry. “We have a way to get there without making it possible to track us back here.”

I shrug and turn to follow Elmer again.

“We need to get going or we won’t make it there on time with the new tunnel. It’s not a direct route.”

I look between the two men with claim on my time. Terry has the more immediate demand, but I admit I’m much more invested in Elmer’s information than even a chance to escape to the blessed surface for a while.

“Go have fun,” Elmer insists, still heading forward and not bothering to even turn his head to look at me. “I mean it girl, have a good time.”

I bite my lip and suffer paralyzing indecision.

“Come on Jul!” Terry grabs me by the hand and pulls me in the direction of the vehicle bay.

And that’s what it takes to get my feet back in motion. His longer legs eat the distance in gulps while I scurry along behind him. He carries both of our costumes in a floppy bag and we will be able to change when we get closer to the destination.

We meet Dirk as promised in the vehicle bay. He sits in a bright yellow off-road capable little commercial SUV. The solar panel on its roof is fairly comical in the context of it being parked underground, but the electric engine means that it makes very little noise to drive through our tunnels. Dirk gives us a dazzling grin, white teeth flashing in the dim light. His green camouflage clothing is particularly useless at hiding in these uniformly gray tunnels.

We aren’t the last of the passengers to climb into the little SUV, and it’s not the only vehicle heading out right this moment.

“For sooth my dearest companions,” Dirk greets the last few with enthusiasm, “we have been graced by the hero of the hour and can henceforth commence the festivities!”

“Hark through what yonder exit do I spy with my little eye,” Gracie cheers from the back seat, “something-” she pauses, feigning a difficult decision, “blue!”

Though the exit is still a long way and several twists of the tunnel away - the entire collected group in the vehicle responds in one voice:

“The sky!”

It is almost like we might be excited or something. We might, just maybe, ought to get out a little more often than we do. After all, not every adventure outside of the safety of this one rebel base needs to be a life-or-death struggle against our enemy. We can do as Elmer ordered. We can also just have fun.

And when I get back, I’ll find out where he got that blueprint. And that will let us both know why the last mission was not the success that’s being celebrated. Maybe it will reveal a weakness in our organization’s information security. Plugging that would be a most valuable way to recover something of use out of the failure beyond just an excess of death.