by T K Foster
Barry said, “Oh, the seasons must be changing, I didn’t count on it being this dark already.”
They had only waited for about fourteen minutes before their fifty three second window of opportunity opened up, but when it did they were transported instantly and without a bump. Now they were encircled by eighty eight pillars - of course this was implied as they weren’t about to start counting them all to verify whether Barry was right or not - and beneath their feet the cobblestones scratched with a gritty layer of dust and dirt. Overhead, strips of colour unfolding across a darkened sky gave some light to what may have otherwise been an ebon landscape; both Gabby and Cetra implied its beauty by the dreamy, big eyed looks upon their faces.
“This looks ominous,” Rod commented.
What they could make of that landscape surrounding them was that it appeared rocky and craggy, and far less than inviting. Shadows loomed all around and kept their secrets hidden, but in the spectacle of light which changed as often as the ribbons of colour in the sky there was movement from beyond the eighty eight pillars and the cobblestone floor.
“Bugs,” Barry announced simply, “many, many bugs.”
“Emphasis on the many,” Rod agreed.
“It looks like a wriggling, woven technicolour blanket,” Billy said and then looked to Barret’s green in blue face for a typically sarcastic response.
“Just say whatever pops into your head Billy,” Barret delivered, “no matter how stupid it sounds.”
Billy smiled.... he would miss that.
Many, many bugs could really be considered an understatement, and Billy’s analogy wasn’t that far off the mark. They were thick, like pea soup, but they swarmed only beyond the circle of stone pillars. Perhaps they were influenced somehow by the malfunctioning magnetic field, or alternatively they were affected by the pretty aurora, maybe they simply couldn’t bring themselves to come any closer to the human presence; either way Barry hadn’t an answer and unfortunately that meant there was no way to avoid going through them.
Though just off to the right of the cloud of insects and within the shadow of a crag there could be seen a red glow, as if two crimson eyes happened to be penetrating the darkness, they appeared and then soon vanished, and in the wake of this the insects dispersed.
“What was that?” Barret said.
Barry said, “Nothing.”
“And don’t tell me it was nothing,” Barret said.
Barry said nothing.
Their passage was now clear and Barry walked ahead toward the edge of the cobblestones, anticipating that his guests would follow; but it didn’t happen.
“Come on,” he said.
And when that didn’t work....
“Trust me. I come here all the time. Nothing out there is going to hurt you.”
He was fully aware that his tone was only distantly reassuring, and by avoiding their concerns he understood their hesitance, but if he were to tell them what was out there now he would remove all possibility of them following him. Barry recalled the first time Brock had brought him to this place, at only ten years old Barry had been a weedy looking kid who stood at the same height as his father’s right elbow – anatomically speaking, Brock’s right arm was shorter by approximately one inch from the shoulder than his left arm and as such Barry liked to compare himself as being greater in height than his father’s left elbow – though even at that tender age he aspired to be just like his dad. At the time Brock’s words had been simple and yet harsh, “you either come with me or stay here alone,” and as comforting as those cobblestones may have felt with his father right there next to him, Barry knew that fear would be all that remained once Brock was gone.
“You stand a better chance out there with me than you do here alone,” Barry said, opting for a new approach.
Billy shrugged and scraped his boot across the dust before casting his nerves aside and joining Barry at the edge. He looked back at his friends with an encouraging smile and said, “Come on, let’s do this. We’re stuck here for fifty three minutes anyway, let’s make the most of it.”
So off they ventured into the dark landscape, ever cautious yet excited at the same time. Gabby held Billy’s hand and walked close, Rod stood tall on Cetra’s shoulder and sniffed the air, and Barret led the team forward with Barry in command.
“How far do we have to go to find a Shpegg?” Barret asked.
“Not too far,” Barry said.
“Will you tell us what a Shpegg is yet?” Cetra questioned.
“Alright,” Barry turned to her and answered, “It’s a delicacy.... used for cooking.”
“A fungus maybe?” Billy guessed, “Like a truffle?”
“Yes....” Barry stopped and rubbed his chin, “perhaps.... like a truffle.”
“It’s a good environment for fungus,” Barret added quietly.
“Well....” Barry continued, “Maybe not so much a fungus as....” he trailed off.
“As what, young man?” Rod prompted.
“You’ll see,” Barry said, “No point in getting you all excited just yet now is there?”
The cave loomed up ahead of them.
“Hang on,” Barret jumped, “I don’t remember you mentioning anything about a cave.”
“Well....” Barry said, “There’s a cave, and the Shpeggs are inside.”
“How the heck are we supposed to see anything in there?” Barret protested.
Barry pulled out a torch from his satchel and flicked it on. The light shone bright and circular on the rocky wall before penetrating into the darkness of the cavern.
Inside the air was stale and slightly acrid, like a bag of vinegar soaked chips left to desiccate in the hot afternoon sun; it wasn’t entirely unpleasant, though it did burn a little like chilli on the breath.
Barry walked casually and confidently ahead of the rest, guiding their path through the dry, warm tunnel, being careful not to tread on the orange blob things that randomly littered the unusually level earth beneath their feet.
“Don’t step on the orange blobby things,” he said over his shoulder and smirked to himself, “They don’t like it.”
As expected they all avoided the orange blobs, though, contemplating their existence, wondered what sort of a threat they could have possibly posed.
“They look like jellyfish washed up on the beach,” Billy said quietly.
Further on, Barry’s torch flashed across a junction where the cave split into two separate tunnels, each one exhibiting its very own distinctive qualities. The cave on the left remained warm and exhaled a sweet breath of air from the somewhat jagged and slightly smaller entrance compared to its right counterpart; which in comparison was less jagged, a little larger, and expelled a gas that was both hot and rancid; assumedly the two coming together gave the main cavern that stale vinegary smell.
“I know which one I’d rather take,” Gabby said.
“Obviously that one has far more appeal,” Rod said pointing to the left, “Although appeal isn’t quite the description I’m after.”
“How about this,” Billy said, “if I had to make a choice between the two, I’d go that way. But honestly, I’d sooner just go home now.”
It was a good thing that Barry had paid no mind to the conversation going on behind him, for during that time he was able to make the preferred choice for them without impediment from his own witling personality.
So they entered the left tunnel and travelled its length. There were no orange blobs this far in, but there were noises.... and scratching.... and strangely something that sounded like a beating heart, or was that just the echo of Billy’s own trying to break free from his chest? He wondered now if he should have stayed back on the farm after all, safely tucked away and relaxing on the Plain of Three Pillars, waiting calmly for Grandpa Bilson to figure out a way back to England; although Barry appeared confident and completely at ease considering their situation, and that in itself was partly reassuring.
The tunnel opened up into a chamber that was broken into
sections by twists and turns in the rocky walls, it was a layout filled with secrets and dark places; and toward the far end, obscured slightly by the lip of a stone alcove that had no choice but to give up its secret upon the intrusion from Barry’s torch, there hung three dirty sacks. They dangled at about chest height, each one strung up between two cords connecting it to the roof of the alcove and its floor.
Barry hummed his thoughts as he led the group toward them.
Upon closer scrutiny they looked like three shiny grey rugby balls held suspended within a light, silky webbing.
“The mysterious Shpeggs?” Barret assumed.
Barry glanced around their stone enclosure first before removing a knife from his leather satchel. He asked Gabby to hold onto one of the sacks while he cut away the webbing, first from the bottom and then from the top. It came away easily and Gabby cradled its soft bulk delicately in her arms.
“It feels funny,” she said squeezing it a little between her hands, “like a big squishy potato.”
Barret drew near and prodded it with a finger, “You still haven’t really told us what it is,” he said to Barry.
“What do you think it is?” Barry asked with a wry smile.
“A great big spider egg,” Billy laughed.
To which Barry simply hummed and smiled again.
“Ah.... No!” Barret protested disdainfully, “Don’t even go there!”
“Ok, settle down you big baby,” Barry said in an effort to defuse any rising situation, “Do you really want me to tell you what it is right now? Or would you rather we all just get out of here?”
They all nodded their heads and repeated the getting out of here as a pretty fair idea.
“Very well then,” Barry continued, “Barret, come take hold of another Shpegg.”
“Ah....No! Not if it’s got anything to do with a spider I won’t,” Barret said, voicing his disgust.
Barry grunted his impatience with the Irishman and then said, “Billy, how about you, you good to go?”
Billy was good to go. He took hold of the second Shpegg and pulled it toward him while Barry cut away the webbing. Taking the weight of it against his chest he figured it to be roughly one and a half pounds, and it was indeed rather squishy to the point of easily poking ones finger through the silky smooth skin. Billy quite expected the webbing to be sticky, but it wasn’t, and it appeared as strong as fishing line if not maybe stronger.
“It looks like a big testicle,” Billy said without considering the possible ramifications of such a vulgar comment and failing to take into account the fact that there were two girls and a rather polite and well-mannered desert mouse present.
“Tally-ho young lad. Maybe....” Rod was thinking out loud, “....we are in the belly of a giant rock monster and have inadvertently stumbled upon its dark nether regions.”
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t get an itch,” Gabby quipped, much to her disgrace in the eyes of Cetra, who was standing against a black crevasse in the wall, shaking her head at the mouse on her shoulder and tisking at everybody else as they stifled their laughter.
Just for a moment, while Barry was encouraging their departure, Cetra felt something brush up her arm; it was a swift sensation, accompanied by a moment of icy numbness, climaxing at her shoulder and then disappearing. In its wake Cetra voiced her displeasure by squealing like a little girl.
Everyone, including Cetra looked back....
....and Rod was gone.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT