The rest of the trip to the caves was uneventful.<br/><br/>Ricky was half expecting not to see the small crevice in the rock wall.  He was surprised he even could in the rain-drenched midnight dark of a thick jungle.  Navrez expressed his surprise at its existence, and the fact that Ricky even knew it was there, with a wave of his Commando and a mild grunt.<br/><br/>The foursome entered the crevice, finding it to be much more than just a crack in the wall.  The thin passage widened out into a low corridor which then emptied into a large, circular cavern.  Stalactites hung from the cieling, their sibling stalagmites shooting up from the ground.  The center of the cave held a circular puddle of water.  Or, it looked like a puddle.  When Ricky stood on its edge, having dumped Lancer with Ayla near the entrance, he decided to test the waters with a simple step.<br/><br/>"You know, man," Navrez said from his position near the women.  "I wouldn't do that.  I've heard stories you know..."<br/><br/>Ricky scoffed, but decided on a more cautious route.  Navrez was usually right about these things.  Shining his flashlight on the surface of the water, Ricky kicked a stone in, expecting it to settle several inches below.<br/><br/>Wrong.<br/><br/>He followed the rock's descent with the beam of light until it could no longer be seen, cloaked by the murky depths.  Ricky whistled; the "puddle" was well over two hundred feet deep, probably more.  He scanned the water again, this time for weapons, mines, animals; anything that could be dangerous to his group.  Nothing.  Good.<br/><br/>While Ricky checked the rest of the cavern, Navrez checked their equipment.  He had been told that walking in a rainforest storm was more like swimming.  He disagreed; it<em>was</em>swimming.  Even though his camo fatigues were waterproof, rainwater had still gotten in through the neck collar and up the sleeves,  He was soaked all over, as was Ricky, and he moved in a special walk/run designed to eliminate chafing.  It was a pain in the ass, but hey, who cares if the grunts get a little rash?<br/><br/>After a few moments, Ricky returned, his flashlight now extinguished.  The only light came from the occasional flashes of lightning from outside.  These lit up the pitch black space in split-second periods at a rapid pace, giving the area the feel of a strobe-light lit night club.  He and Navrez converses with hushed whispers, silent to the women.  After a bit, the latter went to guard the crevice, the former standing watch over the women.  He couldn't help but glance at their soaked shirts.  The bright lightning flashes lit them up uncomfortably well, and Ricky felt himself losing concentration.  His mind briefly wondered to Navrez's "Fuck 'Em" mark he had made earlier.<br/><br/>He shrugged.