Mersey Dark

by Michael Whitehead

  After maybe an hour, there was enough space beneath the wooden upright that a man could slide his flat hand under it, but only just. Sometime later, there was enough space for Billy to get his arm out, up to the shoulder but there was nowhere near enough room for him to slide out altogether.

  If the guard had objected to the singing, when they had first started, they hadn’t said anything. They knew there must be a guard close by, their captors wouldn’t leave the caged people unattended. Men made regular patrols, carrying lamps, but never stayed longer than a few seconds, glancing into the cage and counting. One man tapped his fingers to his thumbs in order to count, mouthing the numbers as his eyes passed from one face to another.

  Billy assumed they were stationed around the corner, in the same place that they could see the faint light of the lamp. Close enough to keep an eye on their captives but far enough away that they could have privacy.

  Eventually, one of the patrolling guards had shouted at them to stop the singing, warning them that bad things would happen if they weren’t quieter. A couple of the people in the cage had actually laughed. Humour was beyond Billy, scared as he was in the dark, but he understood that the guards threats were empty. What could he do to them that hadn’t already been done, or was promised to them in the future?

  None of them knew how long they had been working and singing in the dark. Time was meaningless, other than as a silent threat. Something that might run out at any moment, delivering pain or worse at its end. They had all felt the terror as the man and woman had been dragged away. Next time it could be any one of them that was led to whatever fate meant they did not return to the cage.

  The only way to tell the passing of time was the songs that they sang. They had all sung every tune they could think of, taking comfort from their voices in the dark. Then as time had passed, voices had begun to tire through lack of water and over use. So they had started to sing in shifts, splitting themselves into two groups and singing three songs at a time, letting the others rest.

  “This key is almost down to a nub,” a man’s voice said low enough that only those close could hear him. Billy saw him hold up the makeshift tool in the scant light, a slim finger of iron, devoid of the teeth that had once made it useful. “I don’t think it’s going to last so that we can make this hole big enough.”

  “Keep going as long as you can,” a second man said. “We have to keep trying.”

  Billy watched the man with the key turn back to his work once more.

  “I’m scared,” Bird whispered in Billy’s ear. “I think they’re coming back soon.”

  “How can you tell?” he asked her under his breath.

  He didn’t know why he wanted to hide their conversations from the rest of the prisoners, but something told him it might be wise. At the moment they were all working together, toward a common goal, but he could not be sure how long that might last. They were desperate and you could never tell how such people might behave. He might only be young but he knew enough about desperation to know that it would be unwise to trust these men and women too much.

  “I don’t know,” Bird answered. “I’ve been down here a long time, I think. The last few times the men came for prisoners I kind of knew before they came. I got a feeling in my stomach, sort off.”

  Billy nodded in the dark, then realised she might not see his response in the low light. He squeezed her hand gently and felt her do the same. He sat for a moment, listening to the sound of the singing, thinking about his predicament.

  “Shall I take a turn,” he said to the man with the key.

  “If you want to, lad,” came the reply. “My hands are aching from gripping that thing. Yours are smaller see if you do better.” He thrust a short piece of metal into Billy’s hand. It really was wearing away to nothing. Billy had taken a turn, along with all the rest, and the key had still been recognisable as a key, now it was nothing but a stub, sharpened at one end .

  Billy leaned down to the hole beneath the wooden upright and felt along it with his hand. It was much deeper than it had been when he had last had a go. In fact, he was almost certain that he could slither through the space now. Certainly no adult could get through, even a small woman, but he and Bird were much small than everyone else here.

  He started to scrape, felling the edges of the hole with his fingers as he did. It had been made as wide as it could be, the surrounding rock was harder and rougher than the sandstone they were trying to remove. They hadn’t yet found the bottom of it though, and that meant down was now the only way to dig.

  He pressed his fingers against the sharpened edge of the tool and held the blunt end in his palm, working it back and forth across the sandstone. He could feel the sand breaking away, slowly but surely. After a few moments he stopped, brushed the dust out of the hole, then began again. It didn’t take long before his fingers began to ache and pains started in his shoulders.

  He keep up the digging as long as he could, it was made awkward by the fact that he was having to lean into the hole in order to reach the bottom. Eventually someone tapped him on the shoulder and took over the job. He crawled back to Bird, feeling the muscles in his shoulder and back twinge and complain.

  “I think we can get out of here,” he whispered. He couldn’t see her face so he reached out and took her hand instead. He would never have dreamed of being so friendly with a girl up there, in his normal life. They scared him, they were intimidating and complicated. His sisters were different, they weren’t normal girls, but the rest were like exotic birds. Down here he found his need for comfort was much stronger than his fear of the unknown. Bird must be feeling the same way, she clung to him in the dark as much as she could.

  “Then why aren’t we going?” she asked. Around them the singers had started on a song Billy had never heard before, it sounded like one of the music hall songs his mother would sing before his father died.

  “It’s not big enough for everyone, just me and you,” he said, putting his hand to her ear and whispering as low as he could. She smelled of the damp and dirt of this place but underneath was a sweeter, more natural scent.

  “The men are going to come back,” she said. “I know they are, we need to go.” As she said this she squeezed his hand, and that spoke for the expression on her face that he couldn’t see.

  Billy thought for a moment, his heart beating in his ears. He didn’t want to be here when the men came. There was a good chance that he and Bird could avoid being caught. There was also the chance that the hole might be noticed, or that this time they took them all instead of one or two.

  Then he looked out into the dark tunnel beyond. It had taken a long time to walk the passages to get here. They had turned so many times, left, right and then left again. He hadn't even begun to remember the way, he had been terrified. The idea of getting lost down here scared him more than the men who had brought him to the cage. He would not be able to carry a light, the darkness would be complete.

  Bird squeezed his hand once more. He looked at her, silhouetted against the faint light of the distant lamp. For a moment she looked like his little sister and it made him want to cry. How long had he been down here? After being locked in the police station overnight, it might mean he had been away from home for three or even four nights. Would his mother have fed them? He doubted it, she would be halfway down a bottle somewhere. They could be dead or in the poor house by now. His resolve hardened and he got to his feet.

  He walked to where he was sure one of the men was sitting. He had been one of the leaders when they had started all this and now Billy chose him to speak to. The man was singing when Billy sat beside him, pulling on his sleeve, he heard him stop and felt him lean closer so that he might speak to Billy.

  “You alright, boy?” he asked.

  “The hole is big enough,” Billy replied, his dry mouth and nerves making his words hard to get out.

  “Not yet, lad but it will be soon,” the man said in Billy’s ear.

  “No, I mean it�
�s big enough for me and my friend,” Billy said.

  “You want to go alone, lad? That’s suicide, they’ll catch you or you’ll get lost.”

  “My friend thinks the men are coming back soon, she’s been here a long time,” Billy said to the man.

  “Just a little longer, lad. Then we can all break out. We’ll take the guard and make him tell us the way out.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Billy said, raising his voice a little. “I will get help and come back for the rest of you. I’ll tell the police.”

  “You’ll get yourself bloody killed, that’s what you’ll do,” the man replied.

  The man lapsed into silence. The singers continued making their noise, the digger carried on enlarging the hole, and in the darkness the man thought. Billy waited, knowing that without the consent of these people he was as powerless to get out of the cage as they were.

  “Okay,” the man said. “Go and get help, if you can, but God love you boy I think you’ll get yourself killed.” He raised himself up, first on one hand and then to his knees. He shuffled over toward the hole and began speaking to the man who was digging in low tones.

  Billy made his way to where Bird was sitting, with her knees clutched in her arms. She turned toward Billy as he sat down next to her.

  “I’m going to get help, do you want to come?” he asked her and before he finished speaking he could see her head nodding in the murky darkness. Relief washed over him but he wanted to be sure that this was what she wanted. He wouldn’t be responsible for leading her into danger. “It will be scary and dangerous,” he whispered to her.

  “It’s scary and dangerous in here,” she said, and that seemed to settle the matter.

  “If you’re going, it better be now,” the man’s voice said from near the hole. Sensing that something was happening some of the singers had stopped, others caught the new atmosphere and soon the cage was quiet. Strangely it was the silence that tweaked Billy’s nerves more than anything, it made him feel alone.

  “Who’s first?” the man asked.

  “I am,” Bird said, before Billy had time to answer. She was already on her knees and sliding down into the hole before he could argue. She took hold of his hand and seemed to be lying on her front. In such a way she slithered backward down into the dip, the wooden post hovering above her. It was the work of a moment for her to inch her way back and, after letting go of his hand, out of the cage.

  Billy saw her stand up and thought she might be brushing sand off the front of her clothes. “No problem,” she whispered.

  Seeing her outside the cage, even in this faint light panicked Billy that he was about to lose her. He quickly sat down, feet facing the hole but face upward, unlike Bird. He was a small boy but seeing her slide out of the cage in such a manner had made him realise she was much smaller and much more supple than he was.

  He did slide out feet first, but instead of arching his back he separated his legs and allowed the wooden post to pass between his knees. The sandstone made inching forward difficult, its rough surface pulled at his clothes and he began to wonder at how easily Bird had escaped the cage.

  The post passed over his crotch, brushing but not pressing against his privates. He wriggled himself from side to side, helping his progress by clutching the post, feeling it travel up his stomach.

  “Stop,” a woman hissed. Billy thought she might be on the far side of the cage. Nobody moved, most seemed to be holding their breath. Billy lay in the dark, curled around the post and listened for whatever had caught the woman’s attention. He heard nothing, but still nobody made a sound. Then on the edge of his hearing he heard the voice of the man who had taken the prisoners away earlier.

  He was speaking from what seemed a great distance away, the sound travelling to them through the tunnels but those who were standing above him began to murmur and flutter a of panic found its way into Billy’s stomach.

  “Go quickly, lad,” the man above him said. He began pushing Billy but this did not help and the boy wafted his hand away.

  The sandstone seemed to grab at his shirt as he slid his legs out of the hole. He was almost upside down now, knees in the air and feet struggling to find traction on the ground outside the cage. He shuffled his shoulders, feeling his shirt ride up and expose the skin on his back to the coarse rock.

  The bottom of the wooden post dug into the sensitive area between his stomach and his chest, the place that was guaranteed to wind you if it was punched. He wriggled left and right, trying to find more room, the hard edge of the wood poking into his flesh.

  The voices were close enough that the sound was carrying down the stone tunnels, getting clearer, even to the boy who was now stuck, half in, half out of the cage.

  “Girl, get hold of his knees,” the man’s voice said from above him. Billy felt Bird grip the bottom of his legs. “Now lad, when I say so, I want you to blow all of the air out of your lungs.”

  Billy nodded his understanding, unable to answer through fear and the wood that was now pressing on his chest, making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

  “The rest of you, turn around. It will look well if they come and find us all looking at the hole we’ve dug.” The man put his hands on Billy’s shoulders, he looked down into his face, the outline of his features vague in the darkness. “Ready lad?” he asked, Billy nodded amid waves of panic. “Right breath out hard, pull now lass,” he said to Bird.

  Billy blew all the air out of his lungs, feeling the pressure of the post lift slightly from his chest. At the same time Bird pulled at his knees, small as she was there was no way she could have moved him by herself. The man pushed at Billy’s shoulders, the boy felt the skin on his back scrape against the sandstone beneath it. Pain added to the panic he was feeling but Billy felt the wooden post slip toward his throat.

  For a moment, his chin caught against the edge of the wood. He turned his head and continued to wriggle along with the help of the other two. His back arched as his head cleared the post and he was free of the cage.

  “It’s too late to run, hide over there,” the man said, reaching his hand between the wooden posts of the cage and gripping Billy’s shoulder. “My name’s Harry, good luck, lad.”

  Billy turned to see a corner of rock, darker than the rest. He pulled Bird with him and the two children ran toward their hiding place. As they did a voice spoke on the other side of the cage.

  “Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen. I hope you have all slept well. A couple of you have a busy day today. Now where is the loud-mouthed bitch I promised would be next. Don’t worry love, I haven’t forgotten you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What in Christ’s name am I looking at here?” Sergeant Philips asked, putting down his mug of tea. He stepped toward the thing on the table and then back again, rubbing his stubble. He leaned in once more, looking at the creatures face, then retreated and picked up his mug. He took a long slow drink of the steaming liquid and then asked again, “What is it?”

  The body lay on a long wooden table, surrounded by the tarpaulin in which it had been carried to the station. Its thick back legs were stuck up like a man with bent knees. Unable to lay flat because of the huge thighs and lengthened feet. The long, fur-covered arms that lay by its side ended in hairless, claw-fingered hands.

  Its body was almost human, if any person had ever been covered with so much fur. Despite this Tanner could see that the hair covered a man’s chest, albeit a heavily muscled one.

  The face was so twisted and ugly that his eye kept trying to look away, only to be drawn back, wanting to see more. The elongated nose, the razor-sharp teeth, and fur that covered all but the smallest part of the face, made it hideous to behold.

  “I’m hoping Jane Simmons can tell us when she arrives,” Tanner said. It was the only answer he dare give the sergeant. If he admitted his suspicions he might give away the fact that he had been hiding things from his superior. It hadn’t been out of an attempt to deceive anyone, but a feeling that
he should protect them that he had played his cards close. Now, he understood that it might look less than honest if he were to admit his shortcomings.

  There was a knock on the door, and a young uniformed officer poked his head into the room. His eyes were drawn to the body on the table, and Sergeant Philips was quick to whip the tarpaulin over to hide it.

  “Sir, there is a Miss Simmons here, asking for DC Tanner,” the young man said, looking back up at the sergeant.

  “Very good, show her in,” Philips replied.

  Jane Simmons entered the room looking very well dressed in a fitted ladies suit and a narrow hat. She thanked the young officer and turned to the men arranged around the table.

  “Good day, gentlemen,” she said to the room at large. “Nice to see you again, DC Tanner. Is Mr. Templeton not joining us today?”

  Tanner smiled broadly, “I’m afraid not, Miss Simmons. His business has taken him elsewhere.”

  “Oh, what a pity. Never mind, shall we see what we have? I’m most intrigued, after the hair you showed me the other day, most intrigued indeed.” Jane placed her hat on a small table in the corner of the room and then removed her jacket. She then rolled up the sleeves of the white blouse that she wore beneath. In the space of a few seconds she had gone from prim and proper lady to a woman ready for work.

  Tanner looked across the table at Philips. The man had a puzzled look on his face and Tanner felt sure he had not missed the comment about the hair. There would be questions later.

  “Shall we gentlemen?” Jane asked, looking expectant.

  “It’s...well it’s a little,” Philips began. Tanner had never seen the sergeant lost for words but his need to try to protect a lady had overridden his need to find out more information about the body on the table.