by Scott Reeves
She hit the bare rock of the shore hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.
Stunned, it took her a moment to realize that the flames were no longer dancing over her naked flesh. The pain had abated and her mind cleared enough for her to think more clearly. She inhaled deeply, relishing the feel of the relatively cool air infusing her lungs.
Realization struck her: she was free of the lake of fire! Alarmed, she glanced around, momentarily expecting to feel the fists of Lord’s minions begin to pummel her flesh.
But they were gone. The minions who had guarded this stretch of the shore had rushed toward the Lord’s ledge to investigate the sudden emergence of the Beast’s tentacle.
She jumped to her feet and ran. For her life, she ran. The shadowed mouth of a tunnel gaped in the cavern wall nearby, a stable shadow in a sea of dancing shadows cast by the flickering light of the lake’s flames.
She plunged into the dark tunnel and ran. For her life and salvation, she ran.
CHAPTER TWO – Opening the Door
IF THEY’D BEEN AT UNIVERSITY, getting up and ready to leave by 3:30 in the morning would have been out of the question, since they would have been exhausted from drinking too much or studying too hard the night before. But they’d been nearly two months on the road, working their way through various European countries, camping under the stars or staying in hostels. So they’d grown accustomed to waking up early and leaving before dawn. They’d sloughed off their lazy college ways like a snake sheds its skin.
They followed Nigel through the dark woods, trusting his knowledge of the path even more than they had the previous day.
About a mile from the rectory, they topped a steep hill. A pasture lay before them. At the center of the pasture was a large circular depression about a quarter of a mile in diameter. At the depression’s center, like a drain at the bottom of a sink, was a cavernous opening in the side of a small hill. A flickering light emanated from the opening, very bright in the pre-dawn darkness.
“It’s the entrance to a mine,” Nigel explained. “Dug in the 10th century AD.”
They started down toward the pasture and the large depression.
“So you’re guarding the entrance to a medieval mine?” Paula asked.
“Not the entrance,” Nigel said. “We’re not keeping anyone out. We’re keeping something in. ‘The seal must not be broken. What’s inside must not get out.’”
They arrived at the bottom of the slope and left the woods, heading into the open pasture.
“Sounds positively spooky,” Stacy said with delight, clinging to his arm. She’d been at his side the entire hike. Jason stalked behind her, glaring daggers at Nigel’s back. “So what’s inside that can’t get out?”
“I don’t know,” Nigel said.
They passed over the lip of the depression and started down toward the central opening.
“Bullshit!” Jason barked a laugh. “You’re so full of shit, Nigel.” He moved up to walk beside Stacy. Putting an arm around her waist, he wrested her away from Nigel. She didn’t resist; she just rolled her eyes at Nigel and smiled, as if to say, “You know how boyfriends are.”
They’d come to the mine entrance. Up close, the cavernous opening looked like a gaping mouth, overhung with the roots of trees, half hidden behind a screen of bushes. Square limestone bricks, the remnants of an archway that had once framed the mine entrance, littered the ground. A few bricks still lined the entrance, dangling precariously as if they might drop at any moment. Flickering light shone forth from the entrance. As they approached, they could just make out a circular tunnel sloping downward into the hillside.
“There’s nothing to guard here,” Jason said. “Nigel and his brother probably spend their ‘shifts’ jacking off in there.”
As he said this, a large, powerfully built man emerged from the bright tunnel mouth. He was so tall he had to duck to keep his head from grazing the upper lip of the mouth. He was handsome, with massive arms and a commanding presence. He cast a penetrating gaze upon Jason. “Watch your tongue, heathen dog.”
Heathen dog?! Jason backed up a step, biting back a retort. This man looked like he would kick ass and ask questions later.
Stacy held out her hand. “Hello. You must be Nigel’s brother. I’m Stacy. We’re college students from America.”
The man didn’t take her hand. He looked her up and down. She was dressed more conservatively than the previous day, but her voluptuous body was still all too evident beneath her clothing. Her smile faded under his scrutiny, and she almost felt the need to shield herself, as if she were naked before him.
“I told them they could keep me company on my shift, David,” Nigel said. “Their car broke down out on Doesberg Lane, and I let them stay at the rectory.”
David turned to Nigel. “I wouldn’t recommend this, Nigel.” He looked Stacy up and down again. “This vixen looks like trouble.” He cast his eyes over the rest of the group. Then he laid a hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “Keep your wits about you. Don’t let your guard down. The seal must not be broken. What’s inside must not get out.”
“The seal must not be broken,” Nigel repeated. “What’s inside must not get out. Of course, David.”
Without a further word or backward glance, David stalked away in the direction of the rectory.
Jason, Mike and Paula let out their pent up breaths. Until then, they hadn’t even realized they’d quit breathing.
“My. He’s certainly...intense,” Mike said.
Stacy stared after him. “I think he was awesome.”
Jason said nothing.
Paula had bent and was examining the limestone bricks of the crumbled archway. “These are incredible,” she said. “I can barely make out the letters of some sort of Latin inscription chiseled into them. Perhaps if I gather them all and put them in proper order, I can translate what it says.”
Nigel said, “I must take up my post,” and ducked into the tunnel mouth.
Paula straightened from the bricks. The four of them milled around, staring at the mine entrance.
“If you’d care to join me inside...” Nigel’s voice echoed up the passageway to them.
Stacy started down. Jason went in right behind her, followed by Mike and Paula.
The flickering light came from electric lights strung at intervals along the ceiling. The soft clay of the walls was smooth with the weathering of centuries. The ground sloped sharply downward. Aging, worm-eaten beams every few dozen feet sagged under the increasing weight of the earth above them. It grew colder as they descended; the walls and floor grew slick.
About six hundred feet inside and perhaps two hundred and eighty feet underground, according to Jason, they came to a cross passage. The intersecting tunnels were dark, and ran horizontally, rather than downward or upward, so they ignored the cross tunnels and continued downward.
“Where’d Nigel get off to so fast?” Jason muttered. “Why didn’t he wait on us?”
“I’m just a bit ahead of you,” Nigel voice echoed upward. “You’re almost here.”
They went down another two hundred feet, whereupon the ground leveled out and continued on straight. Up ahead, Nigel was checking a gauge on a small generator, which was chugging along, making surprisingly little noise.
“There you are, then,” Nigel said. “Just checking the gasoline level. Don’t want the lights going out on us.”
Just beyond him, the tunnel ended in a huge bronze door. Beside it was a simple chair that didn’t look like it would be comfortable to sit in for any extended length of time. Next to the chair was a folding table. A pitcher of some liquid, two glasses and several LED flashlights sat atop the table.
“Rather Spartan, I know,” Nigel said, “but comfort can lead to lax vigilance.”
Paula and Stacy went up to the door. It looked practically impregnable, like the door of a bank vault. A huge red pentagram had been chiseled into the door’s surface. An oak cross, as long as the diameter of the pentagram, was affi
xed to the pentagram with great blobs of long-dried wax. Instead of a conventional doorknob, there was a rusted brass ring to the right of the pentagram. In the clay surrounding the door, a residue of some sort of red dye ran parallel to the edges of the door, forming an unbroken red border around the door.
“You’re guarding this door?” Stacy asked, running her hand around the outer circle of the pentagram.
“Not the door,” Nigel said. “What’s behind it. To make sure it doesn’t get out.”
“Come on,” Mike said. “You really think there’s something behind there that wants out?”
“I do,” Nigel said.
“Like what?” Jason asked. “Some sort of animal or something? What?”
“I have no idea. As I said, that knowledge has been lost over the centuries.”
“Then why bother?” Mike asked.
“Because it’s the duty with which our bloodline has been charged,” Nigel said. “We will not shirk our duty.”
“Man, who talks like that anymore?” Jason jeered.
Nigel continued, ignoring Jason, “My brother and I only know that whatever it is, it must never be allowed out.”
Stacy came over to him and laid a hand on his chest. “How noble of you both! Seriously. It’s so nice to see such blind commitment in a man. It’s very sexy.”
Jason bristled, clenching his fists and muttering.
“Aren’t you curious to see what’s behind the door, Nigel?” Stacy asked.
“No.”
“Hey, Nigel,” Paula called. She was looking closely at the red pentagram carved into the door, in full archeologist mode. “Have you repainted this recently? The paint almost looks fresh.”
“It’s never been painted, as far as I know,” Nigel said. “I don’t even think it’s paint.”
“Really?” Paula said, intrigued. “This red color, whatever it is, can’t be that old. Paint wouldn’t last a thousand years, and I doubt wood stain would either.”
Nigel shrugged.
Paula pointed to the red substance that outlined the door. “And what’s this? The same paint or stain or whatever colors the pentagram?”
“That’s the seal that must not be broken,” Nigel said. “That’s the blood of my distant ancestor, the one who charged us with our duty.”
“Bullshit,” Jason said. “Blood wouldn’t last a thousand years. Biological material would have long since decayed.”
“He’s a physicist,” Stacy told Nigel. “He knows about these things.”
“Nevertheless, it is the blood of my ancestor,” Nigel insisted.
Stacy pressed herself against him. “Oh, please, Nigel. Let’s open the door and see what’s inside.” She batted her eyes at him. “Pretty please?”
“Goddamn it, Stacy!” Jason roared. He whirled and stalked back the way they’d come. In seconds the upward sloping ground had carried him beyond their sight.
Mike cast a withering look at Stacy, then turned and went after Jason.
Paula ignored the whole scene, preoccupied with the door. “The bronze looks to be a good thousand years old...” she muttered to herself.
“Please, Nigel,” Stacy begged, running her fingers across Nigel’s chest. “Let’s open the door for a peek.” She winked at him. “I know you like to peek.”
“I can’t,” Nigel whispered, his voice shaky. “Why do you want to see what’s beyond the door?”
“Seriously? You have to ask?” Stacy giggled. “Your family’s kept watch over that door for a thousand years, and you don’t think anyone would be curious why? Come on, Nigel. Be adventurous. Open the door. You let me peek, I’ll let you peek.” She winked at him again.
He trembled, feeling her warmth up against him. The delicious warmth of a woman... had been absent too long from his life. “I can’t,” he said.
“Oh, I’ll bet you could,” Stacy insisted. She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “I know you watched us last night. You open that door, maybe I’ll dance on your cock sometime the way I did on Jason’s. Would you like that, Nigel baby?”
Paula whirled on her. “Stacy! I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that!”
Stacy smiled up at Nigel. “That’s okay. As long as Nigel heard me.”
Her eyes transfixed Nigel. His breath came in short, quick gasps.
Then, trembling with desire, he broke away from her and went to the huge door. He rubbed his foot in the redness running across the ground before the door, scuffing it until there was a break in the red border. Then he took hold of the rusted brass ring and pulled against it with all his might. His feet slipped against the dirt, but he inched backward bit by bit. Slowly the door swung open, grating against the ground. Dust and pebbles showered down from the ceiling, scraped loose by the door as it swung open. A blast of cold air rushed outward, carrying a stench of mold and decay. The lights strung along the ceiling didn’t continue past the door, so the opening was a mouth of utter blackness.
Stacy asked Paula, “Go out and bring those two back, will you, girlfriend? Tell them we’re going inside.”
Paula hesitated. “I’m not sure this is a good idea, Stacy.”
“Come on,” Stacy said. “I’m missing the biggest wedding of our generation because you wanted to see that damn ruin. You owe me.”
Paula glared at her. Then she looked back at Nigel, who stood by the open door, hunched over with the most pathetic look of guilt and shame on his face. He’d failed in his duty, betrayed his family.
Shaking her head, Paula turned and headed up the tunnel to retrieve Jason and Mike.
Stacy went over and laid a hand on Nigel’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Nigel. You won’t regret this. I promise.”
He looked at the open door, at the darkness beyond it. “What have I done? The seal must not be broken. What’s inside must not get out!”
Stacy stepped past the threshold of the door. The tunnel continued on downward into darkness. She looked back at Nigel. “There’s nothing here,” she said. “See? There’s nothing to worry about. You’ve been guarding the door for nothing.” She held out a hand. “Now come on. Let’s go down a bit. Then maybe I’ll go down on you.”
He looked at her. “What a wretch I am. I’ve let the desires of my flesh doom us all.”
“Nigel! There’s nothing here! Now come on.” She thrust her hand at him insistently. “Take my hand and let’s go for a walk.”
The others returned at that moment. Jason came stalking down the tunnel. He brushed past Nigel and through the door. Grabbing Stacy’s hand, he yanked her after him as he stalked downward. “Come on, you bitch. We need to talk.”
In a matter of seconds the darkness beyond the door had swallowed them.
For a long moment, Paula and Mike looked after them, astonished. Then Mike grabbed two flashlights from the table, tossed one to Paula. “Come on. We’d better go after them before they bump into something in the dark and hurt themselves.”
Mike flicked on the flashlight and darted through the door, racing into the darkness after Stacy and Jason.
Paula looked at Nigel. “Will you come with us?”
He shook his head, clearly suffering an apoplexy of guilt.
“We’ll be right back, and then we’ll shut this door and the four of us will leave, okay?”
He said nothing, just stared hollowly at the open door.
She turned on her flashlight, slipped past the door and hurried after Mike. She moved along at the center of a bubble of bobbling light. Ahead, beyond an intervening area of pitch darkness, another light moved along. Mike. Always just around the bend, so that she could just see the tail edges of the yellow glow. She neither gained nor lost ground on it; she was keeping pace. She didn’t want that. She needed to be at his side as they went deeper into the mine. The blackness ahead and behind her was thick and oppressive, swallowing the light. The walls were close to either side, the ceiling low. The air was stale, thick and humid. She felt like she was being buried alive.
She called out
to Mike to wait on her. But his light just kept moving.
“Damn you,” she muttered under her breath. “Wait on me!”
What was Jason thinking, dragging Stacy headlong into the darkness? Had his fine mind snapped?
The ground, which for the first few moments had been nearly level, now began to slope sharply downward. She had to slow down a bit in order to safely descend without slipping headlong downward. Mike’s light began to gain distance on her. His athletic nature made him better suited to the sloping, slick terrain.
As yet there had been no side passages. So if she were to lose sight of him, at least there was only one way he could have gone.
“Mike!” she yelled. Her voice sounded muffled; no echoes came back at her. Strange. “Jason! Stacy!”
A few minutes later, the glow from Mike’s light stopped. She gained on it quickly, catching up within moments.
The ground leveled out again after about a thousand feet of sharp descent. She found Mike and the others there, at the point where the slope met level ground.
Mike was standing above Jason, who was kneeling on the ground next to Stacy. She was sprawled face down on the ground, not moving, apparently unconscious. As if she’d taken a nasty spill at the foot of the slope. Blood pooled under head.
Paula’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her wounded friend.
“Oh my God! What happened?” Paula said.
“Did she trip and fall?” Mike said. He slapped the back of Jason’s head. “What did you think would happen, running off into the dark like that?”
Jason flinched under the blow. “Stop it!” he yelled. “We didn’t go far. I’m not an idiot, you know. We stopped after about a hundred feet past the door. I just wanted to talk to her. There was darkness all around us. I thought it would scare some sense into her. But there was something in the darkness. We heard heavy breathing, and something scaly and wet brushed my arm. She screamed, and we started running. The thing, whatever it was, chased us all the way down here. You know what it was like, running in complete darkness, smacking into walls, falling, tumbling, hearing that thing’s breath at your heels? We screamed the entire way.”