Ancient Exhumations +2

by Sargent, Stanley C

  “The opening, although displaying signs of recent enlargement, was still a tight fit for us, but we squeezed through with rifles in hand, repressing not only our claustrophobic tendencies but a growing sense that we were entering a place of evil. The opening led to a space large enough for us to stand upright, but before we could light our kerosene lanterns, we were assaulted by a stench that made us both gag and return to the opening for what little relief it had to offer in the way of fresh air. I’d never experienced such a rotten, nauseating smell in my life, and I’d spent the greater portion of my youth around slaughterhouses.”

  Walraven leaned forward, speaking in low tones. “Minutes later, we steeled ourselves against the terrible odor, thrusting our lanterns in the face of the dank tunnel’s pitchy blackness. We agreed to make fast work of our inspection that we might return to the open air as quickly as possible, away from the hot, humid atmosphere of the place. If only we’d turned and left right then, but ….” he shrugged, “we don’t always choose the wiser paths in life, do we?”

  As if relating a ghost story to a group gathered around a campfire at night, Walraven slowly proceeded. “Our eyes adjusted slowly to the diminished light as we followed the curve of a downsloping dirt shaft. After about thirty feet, the tunnel took a sharp turn to the left, to open onto an expanse of twice the capacity, the flooring now littered with loose and broken bones. Every imaginable type of wildlife was represented by the thick strew of bones — rabbits, ‘possums, fish and even a few birds. It was the cattle skulls, however, that drew our attention. Luke pointed out that many of the still-pink bones had been gnawed and, in many cases, bitten right through. We began to wonder just what we were getting ourselves into.”

  Walraven paused for more than a minute, but when neither member of his audience said a word, he dove back into his tale.

  “Further down the stifling hot tunnel, the root-riddled dirt walls abruptly gave way to solid bedrock shafts. Without realizing it, we were about to enter the legendary cavern itself. Still, we pressed on until we stood at the threshold of an expansive domelike chamber of such incalculable size that its perimeters were far beyond the poor definition provided by our lamps.

  “The chamber floor was dotted with an array of fang-like stalagmites of what appeared to be pale limestone deposits, their numbers trailing off into the outer darkness of the gallery. Most of them peaked well over six feet above the floor. Luke whispered that they looked like teeth in the mouth of Hell.

  “We were so busy trying to discern the details of what lay ahead that we neglected close observation of our more immediate surroundings. That changed instantly, however, when, after casually leaning against a wall, I gasped and flung myself away from the shadowed surface. When I raised my lantern to determine what it was that had felt so repulsive to the touch, I was appalled to see that the entire face of the wall was alive with a carpet-thick layer of countless thousands of writhing, swollen white maggots.”

  Recreating the scene in his mind, the Reverend shivered involuntarily. The Sheriff, on the other hand, had the disquieting notion that Walraven was studying their reactions.

  “Luke retreated, thrusting his lamp upward to illuminate the area directly above us, only to catch his breath at what the glare of the lamp revealed. The ceiling was alive with a repugnant horde of squirming maggots clinging to each other for purchase. We were appalled at the unnatural size of their numbers, some being nearly a foot long and several inches wide. The undulating mass of the hateful creatures hung above us like an animate Damocles’ sword. Nowhere could we discern even a patch of the underlying stone, it being totally obscured by the slimy scavengers. I assure you our stomachs were churning as we waked to the danger inherent in our position; any slight atmospheric disruption would certainly have dislodged an incalculable number of the unholy brood, and a downpour of the teeming crawlers would certainly have buried us alive.”

  He fell silent once again. The Sheriff, still suspicious, wondered if this was a ploy for dramatic effect.

  “We threw up our arms in a feeble attempt to cover ourselves and ducked down, although such impromptu methods would have proven absolutely futile had the crawling obscenities let loose of their precarious perch.”

  “Good Lord!” cried the Reverend aloud.

  Walraven smiled patronizingly at the pastor before commenting, “You might say that, Reverend.”

  “With unsteady steps, we inched our way toward the larger chamber, foolishly believing the higher ceiling there might provide us some degree of safety. Luke led that way as we crept forward, then he suddenly halted upon encountering the nearest of the stalagmites. His boot must have struck its base, for we were shocked to see the yellow-white outcropping sluggishly heave to one side and rise up before flopping onto its side with a dull thud. What we had taken for stalagmites were, in truth, titanic multi-segmented worms.

  “As we recognized the truth of what lay all around us, we had to clamp our hands over our mouths to stifle our own cries. Neither of us dared move, fearing the slightest disturbance would alert the bloated giants to our presence. Like the maggots, this grotesque behemoth was likewise devoid of eyes, which led me to hypothesize that it might well rely upon vibrational sensitivity as its principal means of assessing its immediate environment. We gazed into the dark, limitless expanse of the cavern, unable to even estimate the number of living stalagmites with which we were confronted. I confess barely being able to remain upright as my mind began to darken and spin with the pulsing brilliance that presages a blackout; such an artificial escape would certainly have proven fatal.”

  Now it was the Reverend’s turn to rise slightly from the rocker’s seat and nervously peer out the window beyond Walraven. The sun was setting, staining the sky with brilliant, blood-red swaths of color. If anything was amiss in the yard, he could not detect it.

  “We had no choice but to retrace our steps as unobtrusively as possible, that we might return the way we’d come. I recall giving silent thanks to the Almighty for the blindness of the vermin.

  “Yet by stepping backward several yards, we inadvertently backed into a tunnel other than the one by which we had entered. We were unaware we’d erred until the wall to our right yawned open, revealing yet another mammoth recess. Our dizzied senses were confronted by an even more nightmarish scene, the chamber being overrun with another group of gigantic grave worms, their sizes ranging from that of a large dog up to that of a bull elephant. Our only relief lay in the realization that they appeared to be preoccupied, thus unaware of our close proximity, with the attendance of a platoon of rat-sized worms that roved indiscriminately and continuously over the surface of the larger worms’ bodies, as if grooming or possibly freeing the deathlypale hides of parasites.

  “Somehow we retained a semblance of self-control in the midst of that unfathomably grotesque predicament — until we witnessed the next revelation, that is. As we spied upon the fearsome monsters, one of the largest of their number leisurely raised the forward end of its powerful form and swiveled slowly around. We held our breath as it seemed as if it were staring directly at the stones behind which we were concealed. The skin retracted back from the tip of what served the creature as a head, rolling back to uncover a huge and fearsome birdlike beak. The bulbous head tipped up and slightly back, its raw, hideous mouth gapping wide enough to easily swallow a man whole without effort. With blinding speed, the massive head lunged downward, up, then down once more, with each stroke devouring a dozen or more rat-sized worm attendants within its relentless, cannibalistic bite. At that precise moment, we recognized the true gravity of the threat posed by the mutant monstrosities.

  “This new revelation proved more than Luke could bear. Overwhelmed with panic, he took flight. I chased after him, the light of my lantern casting grotesque images and shadow-demons across the breadth of the dark walls as I passed. Unable to overtake him, I was soon relieved to hear him cursing not far ahead. When I finally reached him, he had fallen and, to all appearance
s, had broken his right leg.”

  A subtle smile darted across the speaker’s face, to the dismay of his listeners. They found themselves scooting back a bit in their seats, unconsciously distancing themselves a tad from the ominous narrator.

  “Of course,” Walraven went on, “the poor boy was hysterical with fear and pain. I had to forcibly clamp one hand over his mouth in order to silence him. I lied to him then, saying we were not far from the exit and safety. After swearing not to abandon him, I impressed him with the absolute necessity that he keep absolutely quiet. Once he calmed, we sat and listened for any audible indication that we were being pursued. We were relieved to hear nothing whatsoever.

  Then, while helping my companion to his feet in the dim lantern glow, I was stunned to discern a most unwelcome development. To my utter horror, the tunnel ahead was completely blocked with worms, its expanse jammed with innumerable pale, sluggish bodies. They must have noiselessly pursued us, then amassed in a heap when our silence provided them no further trail to follow. Over Luke’s shoulder, I watched their ugly heads dart to and fro in every direction, vainly searching for any indication of our whereabouts.

  “I whispered to my befuddled friend that he should lean on me as we had to get moving, again reminding him that we dare not risk making the slightest sound. I feared he would cry out as he limped along upon his bad leg, but to my relief, he did not. I suppose he was too preoccupied with pain to note that we headed back the way we’d just come. Had he known the truth of our dire predicament, he would surely have given way to panic once more.

  “I have no idea just how long we wandered through the maze-like corridors of that hell hole, the worms trailing our every step, though at a distance. We were forced to change course more than once due to our path being plugged with worms, but finally, after a torturous eternity, we stumbled upon the shaft that led to the outside world.”

  Walraven’s voice dropped and he fell silent. The last rays of the setting sun streamed through the window as he rose to light two large hurricane lamps in opposing sides of the room. No one spoke as he undertook this task, although the Reverend unconsciously sighed aloud, relieved that the rest of the frightening tale would be related in a more brightly-lit setting.

  As he resumed his seat, Walraven turned once more to glance out the window. He smiled for no obvious reason, then continued with his story.

  “Where that tunnel divided into two distinct avenues, I could see bones far down the length of one shaft, bones exactly like those we’d encountered upon entering the Hole. I therefore tried to steer Luke in that direction, but he balked. Exhausted and half-crazed with shock, he suddenly lurched forward, thrusting me away from him with enough force to knock me down. When I got up and shone the light on my friend, I was surprised to see him standing, wild-eyed, just a few feet away, his shotgun aimed directly at my face. Even worse, however, was the sight I beheld clearly defined behind him, a looming conglomerate of bobbing white appendages, their featureless heads nodding but a few feet beyond.”

  On pins and needles, the Reverend and Sheriff watched as Walraven buried his face in his hands, his anguished sigh giving portent of what was to come.

  Walraven’s voice faltered as he went on. “All I can say is … he must have seen the look on my face and followed my line of sight. The poor bastard, he turned and, in terror lost his balance. He tumbled, screaming, right into that living wall of pallid, ravenous flesh. The filthy things swarmed all over him instantly, battling amongst themselves for the choicest morsels. All this happened so quickly that, I swear, there was nothing at all that I could do to save poor Luke.

  “I turned and ran, fleeing down the tunnel I knew to be the route to a saner world. I crashed through the boneyard in a crazed frenzy and fumbled my way through the aperture of the Hole. There being no ledge on the embankment, I fell headlong into the stagnant water below. I let loose of my lantern and, in the darkness, nearly drowned as I struggled, unable to gain any purchase upon the slippery, slime-covered bottom. Somehow I succeeded in righting myself, although barely able to distinguish up from down in the pitch darkness, and grappled for the shore, where I collapsed upon a bed of cold wet weeds and mud.”

  Taking a deep breath, Walraven declared, “I lay there face down in the muck for some time, shivering uncontrollably in my wet, filthy clothing, despite the summer warmth. It finally struck me that I had better drag myself back here to the house before I slipped into a dangerous state of shock.

  “As I began to rise, I could feel something strange beneath me, a quivering. The next thing I knew, the earth below me undulated slightly, then convulsed. The slime covering my hands grew animated. I sat up and raised my hands to my face that I might discover what was under me. I could barely see at first, but as a cloud passed away from the face of the moon, I cried out in shock. My palms were engulfed in hundreds of wriggling maggots, the very ground beneath me being naught but a seething blanket of churning maggots! I jumped to my feet, brushing and brushing at the horrible things, but their numbers were far too great. They wriggled inside my clothing, in my shirt and pants. I can’t describe the sickening experience of having thousands of vermin swarming all over your body. I have only the vaguest recollection of their reaching my face, dropping into my screaming mouth, and … and … then nothing. I must have fainted, my mind surrendering to the belief that I was being eaten alive.”

  The Reverend reached out to comfort the shaking Walraven, just as the Sheriff snidely asserted, “And yet you somehow managed to get yourself home all safe and sound. You must take us for fools.”

  “Now Sheriff, …,” begged the sympathetic Reverend.

  The lawman stood up, assuming an officious pose. “Don’t tell me you’re buying any of this malarkey, Reverend, ‘cos I sure as hell ain’t! Either he’s a ringtailed liar or, more likely, he’s crazier ‘n a bedbug!”

  The parson looked at Walraven imploringly, then back at the Sheriff before lowering his head.

  “I thought not,” the Sheriff sputtered. Turning to Walraven, he demanded, “You’re gonna lead us to Luke’s body right now, mister — no more excuses.”

  Walraven displayed no sign of being intimidated.

  “I regret to inform you, Sheriff, but I cannot lead you to the body tonight. Use your common sense for a moment. You may dismiss all I’ve related to you here, but beyond that, you know full well one can only maneuver the pasture safely in daylight. It’s a virtual swamp, filled with sinkholes, snakes and muck. Do you really want to go traipsing across terrain like that in the dark?”

  Unwilling to admit outright that it would actually be quite foolish to navigate the marshy terrain in the dark, the Sheriff plodded to the front door and, closing only the screen door behind him, marched out to the big open front porch. Standing there alone, with a cool evening breeze brushing across his face, he stared into the distance. He deemed it vital that he remain in control of this situation. Something did not feel right about all this, not right at all, and he dared not let Walraven get the best of him. He stood for several minutes, pondering the forest canopy that Walraven had permitted to encroach threateningly near the house. Avoiding the crystal clarity of the sky above, he focused upon the hazy light that marked the Haagenbaugh farm, suddenly so far to the northeast. The only distraction was the weird serenade of crickets and frogs emerging from the nighted void, the endless loop of their convoluted cries striking him as totally alien to the familiar world. A shiver raced along his spine, causing his entire body to quake. The old timers would say someone had just walked over his grave.

  “They’re out there, Sheriff, waiting,” Walraven tauntingly called from inside the house.

  “That cuts it,” the officer grumbled under his breath. He turned and strode back into the parlor.

  “It may well be that we gotta wait ‘til morning before taking a good look at this Death Hole of yours, assuming there is such a place, but nothing’s gonna keep me from looking around these premises right now.”

&nb
sp; In an intrusively high-pitched voice, the Reverend timidly proffered, “Without a warrant, you can’t do that … can you?”

  Raising a lantern, the Sheriff ignored the remark. He further goaded Walraven with, “Are you gonna aim me toward Luke’s room or do I have to find it on my own?”

  “Go to the end of the hall there, then past my bedroom and up the stairs,” the still-seated Walraven coldly replied. “Luke’s door is the first on the right once you’ve reached the landing.”

  The Sheriff frowned. “Good enough. Now I expect you two to wait right here. Reverend, I’d appreciate it if you’d give a holler if our friend here decides to go anywhere. ‘Til I get back, he ain’t to move, not even if he says he has to use the outhouse.”

  The demure Reverend nodded his silent assent.

  Walraven smiled broadly. “I promise to stay put,” he said with a hint of sarcasm not lost on the lawman.

  Neither man spoke during the Sheriff’s absence. The clergyman was obviously at a complete loss for words due to the awkwardness of the situation. His companion seemed to fix his attention once more on the blackness beyond the window.

  The Sheriff soon returned, reporting that, aside from Luke’s clothing and belongings still being in his room, he had spotted nothing suspicious in the course of his search. He concluded with, “Still, I got no choice other than to haul you down to the station for more questioning. If it’s like you say and Luke is dead, then we’ll find out in the morning and try to sort all this out then. I’ll have some of the boys check out this cavern you claim you were in; we’ll just see what they do or don’t find there.”

  His announcement elicited no reaction, so he motioned for Walraven to rise. The Reverend started to object when the Sheriff handcuffed his prisoner, then thought better of it.

  Relenting a bit, the lawman turned to the Reverend. “This ain’t what I had planned, you know that, Reverend, but I gotta do my duty as I see fit. I’m going to pull the car up to the porch, and I want you and Walraven to come out and stand on the porch in the meantime so I can keep an eye on my prisoner.”