Spelunking

by Jason Jordan

My roommate Zack is about to rappel down my throat.

My throat was still hurting like I'd swallowed glass. Like strep throat times two. I had tried those new buzz saw Doritos® before they recalled them. The news said they were much harder than the regular chips, and that people were swallowing them in chunks, cutting their esophaguses in the process. I figured that if I could shrink my friend Zack, he could deduce how bad the damage was.

Of course, I had to shrink him plus all the supplies we bought at the pro shop—his rope, lantern, and helmet. Zack stood on top of our coffee table since I didn't want to accidentally step on him. The Shrink Kit™ reduced him to the size of a Gummi Bear. I held open my palm and he climbed aboard. All I had to do was stick out my tongue and let him walk right on in. I could hardly feel him.

Zack: "Here, hold this."

He hands me the end of the rope, which I pinch between my thumb and forefinger. I want to suggest that maybe I should tie the rope to something to anchor it, but he is on my tongue, and I can't talk. Plus, he might lose his balance and fall to his death. His voice sounds normal, but quieter.

Zack: "Once I'm in, you can turn off the light and you should be able to see the lantern through your skin. That way you can trace my path. And don't worry, we'll figure this thing out."

+++

Zack is about to make his descent, so I close my mouth and turn off the bathroom light, careful not to let go of the rope. Strangely, Zack seems more at ease about this than I. In the mirror my cheeks suddenly light up. They're red.

I feel Zack walking around. I want to spit or chew or swallow. At once the rope tightens, so I know Zack has begun his descent down my esophagus. I don't have a gag reflex, so it's easy enough. In the mirror I look like a jack-o-lantern without holes. My eyes follow the light down my throat. The light moves slowly. It stops at the halfway point and I wonder if something's wrong.

We should've settled on a method of communication. I can't really talk to him. Even if he could understand what I'm trying to say, my voice would deafen him. And if he didn't tie the rope around his waist, he can't let go of it.

My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I remove it with my free hand, flip open the screen, and read the text from Zack.

Zack: Your throat's puffy & irritated. looks like u have cuts. whatd u eat?

I text him back: Nothing unusual except for those new buzz saw doritos.

Zack: Weird. i bet those did it. ull have 2 go 2 doctor. get scope. theyll have 2 look 4 themselves. u no how they r.

Scope is a bad idea, I think, so I tell him in my reply. After all, if my throat feels like it's on fire now, wouldn't Scope be like adding lighter fluid?

Zack: No not mouthwash u idiot. the scope w/ the camera. now get me outta here. this is creepin me out. clostrophobia kickin n. smells bad n here. don’t want 2 fall.

The rope goes taut as can be—my throat scraping, the light inching upward. I fight the panic and the pain, my urge to swallow, swallow, swallow. I figure that it's a good time to turn on the bathroom light, so I reach for the switch, but with the wrong hand. Everything happens so fast: I let go of the rope, which disappears into my mouth, and the light from the lantern plummets down my throat like a broken elevator.

Zack is gone.

I flip off the switch again to spot the light in my body, but there's nothing. I turn the light back on and get up close to the mirror. There are my teeth, my gums, my tongue, that weird dangling thing that's really weird looking, but no Zack. If he's in my stomach, it could be too late. The acid will eat him alive. Or maybe he's already drowning. I'll crap him out, or what's left of him, but they'll still be able to insinuate that I inadvertently murdered him—manslaughtered him, technically—using the store surveillance tapes and Shrink Kit™ receipt.

The only option: Force myself to vomit. I get on my knees in front of the toilet and stick a couple fingers down my throat like I've seen people do in the movies. I stick them as far down as I can get them, but it's no use.

I have no gag reflex.