Cave Crawlers

  Mbussa at first looked embarrassed; then he smiled. “Intulo is a demon who lives in the earth. He heralds death.”

  Frederick nodded. “You believe in Intulo, and yet you make your living in a gold mine.”

  “I work below the earth because I must to feed my family. My belief in the ancient tales is much like some Christians’ belief in God. I have doubts, but I believe just in case I am wrong.”

  “A very wise choice,” Frederick conceded. He checked his watch. “I think it’s been long enough.” He stood and stretched his legs, stiff from sitting so long. “Grab the picks in case the steel door is sealed. Then …”

  His voice trailed off as a strange sound drifted down the tunnel, louder and nearer than the rescue drills, a loud clicking, like the electric starter of a gas range. It came from the dead end of the shaft. He hoped the sound didn’t presage another cave-in or a flood.

  “What can that be?” he asked aloud.

  “I’ll check,” Mbussa offered, as he stood and switched on his lamp.

  Frederick followed Mbussa’s progress down the dark tunnel until the darkness swallowed him. A few minutes later, Mbussa’s blood-curdling scream echoed down the tunnel, ricocheting from the rock walls until it faded in the distance. The ghastly moan continued for only a few more seconds before ending abruptly.

  “What the bloody hell?” Frederick exclaimed. His skin began to tingle, and his mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat was a fist crammed down it. Fear reached its icy hand into his chest, squeezing his pounding heart until his courage ran as cold as his blood. He wanted to run, but the eerie sound riveted him in place like spikes driven through his feet into the solid rock.

  The clicking grew louder, as did the horrendous scratching of a thousand metal chisels on stone. Now, all the helmet lamps were on and pointed down the tunnel toward the sound. Beams of light danced along the walls, floor, and roof, searching for its source. Large, indistinguishable shapes moved in the shadows, making it difficult to judge their size. They moved rapidly and resolutely toward the fearful group of transfixed men.

  One of the shadows separated from the wall and fell upon one of men. He screamed in agony, as sprays of blood splattered the stunned miners. The creature dragged him to the ground and savagely attacked him. Long, pointed sticks jabbed into the man’s chest. Blood ran from his open mouth. No, Frederick realized. Not sticks, legs. It was a giant insect, an enormous black beetle twice the size of a miner’s helmet.

  More insects appeared, swarming as scores skittered from the darkness in an insect flood. The lights reflected dully from their shiny carapaces as if absorbed by the ebony chitinous material. Now, everyone was screaming; burly miners who considered themselves above fear blubbering like frightened children. Their cries roused Frederick from his own terror trance. He grabbed a pick, and with a mighty swing drove the tip into one of the creatures’ back. It was like chipping stone. The pick’s tip skidded across the rigid chitinous shell doing no damage. The insect tumbled away, but quickly regained its feet and attacked him. Stunned, he dropped the useless pick and raced down the tunnel toward the exit, praying the steel door at the end was not locked.

  After fewer than a dozen steps, a searing pain brought him to the ground. Fire lanced through his leg, shooting up his back and stabbing his brain. He glanced in horror at his right leg dangling by a flap of skin. Two of the creatures had nearly amputated the leg with their razor-sharp mandibles. A spray of blood arced through the air, splashing the floor of the tunnel and drenching the creatures. They tugged the leg free and fought over their prize. The absurdity of two nightmarish creatures skirmishing over his unattached leg struck him as hilarious. He barked out a short, clipped laugh. The creatures, engrossed in their feast, ignored him. He dragged himself down the tunnel toward the steel door, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

  He knew escape was useless. His life’s blood was spilling from him at an alarming rate. The smell of blood and fear permeated the tunnel, driving the creatures insane. The hellish beetles were everywhere. His stump, rather than in excruciating agony, was numb. He realized his body was in shock and that unconsciousness was not far away. He wanted to document what was happening, a record of his death. He fumbled for his iPad and snapped two quick photos of the creatures, realizing too late that the flash attracted them. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to crawl away, but they surrounded him, relentlessly nipping and pinching at his extremities. As they scurried over him, their pointed legs were daggers stabbing into his flesh.

  Eventually, their weight pressed his face into the ground. He didn’t see the mandibles ripping into the soft flesh of his back, but he felt the intense pain as the creatures tore muscles and severed bone to reach his internal organs. Screaming obscenities, he slapped uselessly at the creatures with his left hand until one of the beetles snapped it off at the wrist.

  As he stared dumfounded at the bloody stump, his helmet light went out, instantly plunging the tunnel into abysmal darkness. The darkness was a godsend. It saved him the horror of watching the creatures rip him apart. Strangely, he no longer felt pain, just an odd sense of separation, as if he was no longer in his body. He tried to laugh. He knew he must look a mess. What would Eve think? She had always said he looked so distinguished.

  He pushed the box containing Eve’s ring deeper into his pocket with his remaining hand to protect it. He wanted to look at it one last time, but it was too late. A chill came over him as he lay dying. He sensed something farther away, deeper down the tunnel from which the creatures had come. It was a malevolent presence, eager to feed. Even the ravenous insects feared it, pausing for a moment from their meal. They stopped their incessant clicking and turned toward the presence; then, life fled his body.

  The sounds of drilling continued above as the insects feasted. Two-hundred-million years of evolution had made of them efficient predators and voracious scavengers, leaving nothing behind but dismembered skeletons. When they finished their meal, they lingered in the tunnel for a while, searching for a way out. Later, when hunger forced them, they returned through the crack in the wall to their lair.

  Intulo: The Lost World is available from Amazon here!