Subterranean by James Rollins

it. “Sorry.” Even pointed out, the black hole was barely discernible from the black rock. She stepped around it. “I didn’t see it.”
    â€œYou could have twisted an ankle.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œYou’re welcome. But next time I touch you, try not to kill me.”
    Her face heated up. She cleared her throat, grateful that they had not reached the floodlit cliffs yet. The darkness hid her red face. “Let’s check out the lower dwellings,” she suggested, stepping away from him. She couldn’t tell if she was more embarrassed by her near gaffe or mad at his action . . . or something else. He was so unlike her ex-husband. Where Scott, ever the accountant, was steady and often sullen, seldom sharing his intimate thoughts, Ben’s easygoing manner and good humor were unsettling.
    They arrived at one of the dwelling entrances. “Ladies first,” Ben said.
    Ashley avoided looking at him and crouched down, lighting up the interior with her helmet lamp. The chamber extended back about five yards. The walls, unadorned rock, were obviously carved from the stone and polished. She passed a hand over the smooth interior surface, impressed by the ingenuity and tenacity of early man. With crude tools, it must have taken years to excavate each one of the chambers.
    The interior, devoid of any hints about its occupants, stood empty. Bending, she crawled inside. It never hurt to look.
    Her helmet scraped across the ceiling as she wormed into the small opening. She noticed there was a small hollow in the floor near the entrance. Probably an ancient firepit. She proceeded to the back of the chamber. Nothing. She sat down for a moment, pondering who built these homes.
    â€œDid you find anything?”
    She looked back at Ben, helmeted and crouched on one knee by the entrance. He blocked the whole opening. “It’s strange,” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWhere did they all go?”
    He shrugged. “Probably died off. Went extinct. Like the dinosaurs.”
    She shook her head. “No. That doesn’t make sense with the state of this site.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œThe first researchers only discovered a handful of broken tools and crude stone bowls. Usually these primitive home sites are brimming with artifacts. But here . . . nothing.”
    â€œThey must have moved on, taking their stuff with them.”
    â€œExactly!” She nodded, impressed by Ben’s intuitiveness. “But why leave? Why spend decades digging out this habitat only to abandon it? And what about the diamond statuette? Why leave it behind?”
    Ben remained silent.
    â€œIf only I could spend more time here.” She smacked the flat of her hand on the rock.
    â€œWhy? Sounds like they already went over everything with a fine-tooth comb.”
    She shook her head. “No. Clues are too often missed. Even after years of study. I need more time.”
    â€œBut why bother? We might find a lot more answers during our exploration.”
    â€œI hope so.” She crawled her way toward the entrance. Ben offered his hand to her as she exited. She took it, his hand hot in her cold palm. He pulled her toward him. She was surprised by his strength, and her left foot slipped in the damp hollow of the cave’s firepit and she fell backward, landing her backside squarely into the firepit and dragging Ben down on top of her.
    Ben’s nose lay an inch from her breast. He looked up at her. “You’re not going to hit me again, are you?”
    â€œSorry. I slipped.” She blushed furiously, his body pressing hard on hers.
    He cleared his throat. “No apology necessary,” he said, grinning down at her. “A few more slips like this and we might have to get married.”
    She grimaced at him. “Just get off of me.” She meant to be stern, but couldn’t quite pull it off.
    Suddenly, uncontrolled, she began laughing. She