Saving Grandpa pt 3- Inner

Light in the Inner comes from the ground. The sky is dark with deep, wavering colors. Juan and I trudge along a path of dusty, luminous pebbles, our footprints brighter than anything else. The wind is cold and fierce, yanking on my helmet, my apron, my slacks, and permeated with a sickly-sweet smell like old yogurt.

Both have an eerie, not-quite beauty.

“Juan, were your grandpa and I a cute old couple?”

He pauses, hand against glittery stone at a cave’s entrance as he flips up his mask to rake me with a scrutinizing gaze. “You’re both crazy smart.”

I laugh. “We’re a crazy old couple?”

He walks on, eyes darting to the cave’s every shadow, and I think he wants me to be quiet.

I follow his example, treading lightly as my sightline sweeps the massive columns clustered on either side of our path. The stalactites look like daggers ready to rain down on us. I gulp and pull my arms in tighter. The multi-forked walkway angles steeply down, and the last thing I need is my butt knocking something over.

“You and Grandpa always say you are the most amazing thing that ever happened to each other,” Juan whispers, and the lumpy walls repeat his words as barely audible hisses. “Considering everything you’ve been through, that’s saying a lot.”

A sheepish grin spreads across my lips. “Did he ever say what he liked best about me?”

“Your eyes, how they’re such a clear green. He said he could see things in them.” Juan glances back. “I can see it, too, your incredible intelligence. It’s like you take apart everything you look at.”

Odd. My Juan always referred to my eyes as puke-colored and never once called them beautiful.

As we pass under an arch, my breath refuses to leave my throat. This next cavern is huge. Light-edged paths spiral around towers and vertical fields of fruit-bearing vines. Rope and thin boards form a bridge before us, and a long drop awaits beneath it.

It sways as it takes Juan’s weight.

I hold in a squeak, eyes wide as my hands clasp each other in front of my mouth.

Juan turns to me, head tilted. “You’re not afraid of heights.”

“I wasn’t until I was twelve.” My hands tremble, and I curl my fingers against my palms. “To prove girls could be brave, I took a dare to leap across the gully behind the school. I fell and broke my collarbone. Your grandpa carried me home.”

“He was supposed to catch you.” Juan snorts. “That was supposed to be the first time you met. You won’t let a little fear stop you now, right?”

I shake my head, but my legs don’t move. “Distract me, Juan. Tell me more about your grandpa.”

He nods and walks backward with a hand stretched toward me. It feels like forever before he speaks, and when he does, it’s with a whimsical, distant voice. “Grandpa never complained when I followed him around, though he was busy. He always answered my questions. He said I would find a girl just like you someday.”

“You did, right?” I step onto the bridge. It creaks, and I close my eyes. “At least, you feel about Gwen how your grandpa feels about me?”

His tone contains a sad smile. “She’s just like you, eager to do whatever she can to make the world right. I wanted her to meet you.”

My foot crunches on gravel, and my eyes flutter open. We stand on a wide balcony outside a long hut. A thatched roof angles just above my head. The top of it looks smashed against the cavern ceiling.

Juan takes my hand, a finger to his lips. His head jerks toward an entrance far to our left, where a buff man with a double-ended trident leans on the doorframe. The guard scans the cave, but there isn’t much movement for him to note. A few others like him loom in far-off exits, and a scattering of women tow loaded carts on the spiraled roads. Everyone is dressed the same, regardless of their differences. The crimson jumpsuits are ill-fitted to most of their wearers, but no one seems to care.

Juan pulls off his helmet and tucks it in his too-small pocket without a trace. Then, standing tall, he approaches the guard. “Move aside and do not disturb us!”

Blinking, the guard skitters out of the doorway, and we slip inside a twenty-foot square space. It is a rustic dungeon, everything wood lined in riveted iron. Sparkly dust coats the floor, and an azure glow saturates everything. Stairs disappear through an arch on the back wall. In the center of the room, shelves host sharp tools and form three short walls around a man about our age.

He is paused, though he looks about to say something, lips pale and set in a thin line. One hand is raised, ready to snatch at something, one bare foot forward. He wears a jumpsuit like Juan’s, minus the florescent edging and a faded gray instead of ebony. Its collar hangs open, revealing the end of a long scar.

Juan’s chin hovers over my shoulder. “Grandma, meet Grandpa.”

I whirl on him. “That is not Juan Martinez.”

“No, his name is Zinc Alta.”

“But you said Juan Martinez is your grandfather. You look like him. You have his name!”

Wincing, Juan flicks a glance at the guard behind us. His voice is very quiet. “Juan Martinez is my grandfather, and so is Zinc.”

I am going to melt from embarrassment. “You mean Juan Martinez is your dad’s dad, and Zinc...”

“Is my mom’s dad. Grandpa Zinc was supposed to be sent to the Outer, but I displaced my other grandfather. Originally, he died in an accident when I was little. I didn’t even know him, but this time he grew up next to you.”

I start to sink, but Juan catches me.

“Only your kiss can free Grandpa.”

My stomach roils. “It’s actually like in a fairy tale?”

He nods, gaze intent on Grandpa. I gulp, and he shoves me toward the stranger.

My steps fall unsteady and lurching as I squint in the azure glow. My grandson has this man’s jawline. Did Juan III deliberately lead me to believe we would rescue his other grandfather? He deserves a good whack on the behind.

I stop in front of Zinc. We are the same height, five-foot-one, and his hair wavers between blond, brown, and gray, like dead grass. Long strands spike on top, and symbols are shaved into the sides. A scar bisects his face, starting between his brows, curving under his jaw, and ending at his clavicle.

“What happened to him?”

No one answers, but I feel like Zinc wants to. Life pulses in his obsidian eyes. He remains motionless, but in them, I see calculation. It’s like watching the pendulum of a grandfather clock.

I smack my forehead for thinking that.

This is Juan III’s grandfather. I don’t know him, but I feel like I should, like there’s something deep within me that connects us and pulls me toward him. I’ve heard theories about how altered timelines constantly try to fix themselves. That sounds like destiny, like I don’t have a choice, and I do have a choice. I can walk away.

I pivot forward and touch my lips to this stranger’s.

Continued in pt 4- Grandpa

Thank you for reading!