by Ike Hamill
We snuffed all but two of the lanterns to conserve our air. We’ve been sitting here in the near dark for what must be hours. Bert has Mr. Russell’s pocket watch, but didn’t think to wind it before it stopped.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Two more men have disappeared. They went down to number seventeen to relieve themselves and never returned. As a group, we’ve scoured every inch of our prison and found no trace. Mr. Russell’s body has gone missing as well.
Some of the men looked angrily to me, as if I might have some complicity in the disaster. Bert, being the new second-in-command, stayed strong with me and we argued them down. We heard the sounds of rescue coming from fourteen. Our spirits rose for a while. Someone brought the idea that the sound might simply be another cave-in. I have no opinion.
-o-o-o-o-o-
We’ve all agreed not to discuss our hunger.
What possible good could come of such a discussion is not apparent to me. I’m pleased that my compatriots are of a like mind.
We found John Harlow, but it was too late. His torso was protruding out of the darkness, but the lanterns would not illuminate his lower half. Bert suggested that the shadows were attempting to swallow him whole. We pulled on his hands and begged him to struggle. John’s eyes fell shut and he didn’t respond to us as he was consumed. I let go of his fingers before the shadow could swallow me as well. I suppose our mysterious disappearances have been explained. The darkness has ingested the missing men.
No explanation has been forthcoming.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Robert Clyde discovered a crack in the wall. While it’s true that no man knows every inch of this section, we all know enough about mining to recognize that this crack is unnatural. It was not made by human hand or one of our clever tools. This is a crack of the mountain itself, and I’ll swear that it was not present before the cave-in trapped us here.
Bert believes that the darkness that swallowed John Harlow came from, and retreated into, this crack. He may be right.
Robert Clyde thought this crack might be a way out.
Perhaps he is correct.
So far, he has no other volunteers willing to explore the crack alongside him.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Bert has killed Charles Ulrich.
Unless Robert Clyde returns from the crack, we have only six men remaining of our crew. Our cave-in trapped twenty-four men. With two murders and one elopement, the other fifteen disappearances remain unexplained. The theories grow more wild with each passing hour.
Ulrich wanted another sacrifice, but not to appease the ghosts of the mine. I’m reticent to speak ill of the dead, but Charles Ulrich wanted to murder Kyle Henry and consume his flesh. Kyle has not moved in some number of hours. His eyes are closed and he will not respond to our ministrations. When Charles made move to end Kyle’s life, Bert took steps to restrain Charles. Their scuffle turned into a fight. I don’t blame Bert for what he has done. I would have done it myself if I had summoned the energy. Some of the men dragged Charles to the deep part of the mine and offered him to the darkness. I’ve heard no report on the status of his remains.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Robert Clyde’s crack has disappeared. He attempted to explore the crack for a way out and we never saw him again. Now, that crack has disappeared. Bert found another crack near the raise. The discovery divided our group. Three of us believe that the correct course of action is to stand pat. The other men, led by Bert, want to explore the crack. They now believe that Robert Clyde is happily above ground, though there’s no evidence to support such a claim.
I suppose that there is no evidence to the contrary. Still, the crack leads down into an unknown abyss and we have no lanterns to spare. There is precious little fuel left and we may soon have only one lantern for all of us. If Bert’s group leaves, we men who stay will be left in the dark.
-o-o-o-o-o-
A foul breath of sulfur came up from Bert’s crack just as the men set to investigate. I thought for sure that the toxic odor would dissuade them, but the opposite was true. Convinced that the smell was organic, they decided that the smell proved that the crack would lead them to life.
They wrestled the last of the fuel from us.
We’re going to extinguish the lantern now and only relight it if we hear the approach of a rescue. Darkness awaits.
-o-o-o-o-o-
When I heard the scrape of boots, I called to my men to light the lantern. Nobody responded. I struck the match myself and wished I had left their terrible deeds to the dark. I won’t give their names here. They deserve no memorial.
The light swelled and exposed the grunting fools as they desecrated the remains of Charles Ulrich. I’ve never seen the like. As soon as the light had revealed the men, darkness flooded back in to consume them. I was not ashamed to cheer for their demise.
I’m alone in this wretched cave.
Chapter Twenty-Five — Voices
FLORIDA PUT UP HER hand to tell Roger to stop.
He slid his bare foot forward and rested. After a second, he understood—she had heard a voice.
“Spit it out!” the voice yelled. It echoed through their tunnels. After a few seconds, he heard the voice again. It was barely audible. “Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.”
They waited to see what else it might say.
There was no other sound.
“Hello!” Florida called. Roger listened to the reverberations fade away and strained to hear a response. “Hello?” she yelled again.
Roger limped forward.
“I’ve heard voices before. They never answer,” he said.
Florida narrowed her eyes. “There has to be some explanation.”
“Yeah, there is—this whole cave is fucked.”
Florida thought about it for a second and then nodded. She marched on. She didn’t take any care to wait for Roger. Her position was clear—she was going to get out as quickly as she could. If he kept up, he was welcome to tag along. Otherwise, he was on his own. Roger was starting to grow accustomed to the pain. His hip and knee were a little sore, and the cut on his ankle stung. He had lived through worse.
Florida slowed down.
Roger maneuvered to the side and saw why. Their tunnel was ending. The wall curved down and there was a dark hole in the floor.
“Careful,” Florida said. “The rock could be thin here.”
She edged towards the hole. From what he could see, the space below was enormous. His light picked up one of the walls below as it curved away. Florida had a better angle. She moved to the side and projected her headlamp down through. Florida dropped to her knees and moved down closer. Her hands were right at the edge.
Roger was just about to say something when she waved him forward.
“Look!” she said.
Roger crawled forward, trying to spread out his weight. He finally found a good angle to see where she was pointing her light.
The cave beneath them was shaped like an enormous, flattened bubble and they were peering through the roof. Their light barely reached the far side, where a couple of shapes looked black against the reddish rock.
One of the shapes was projecting its own light. It was a person—so far away that they looked tiny—and they were walking around the perimeter of the giant room.
“Hey!” Florida yelled. “Hey!”
Roger joined his voice to hers. His message was more direct. “Help us! Please help us!”
There was no thought of trying to get down there. Below the hole it was at least a thirty foot drop to the floor, if not more. It was impossible to judge the distance. Also, the floor was covered with something white. It could have just been a mineral deposit, but it was impossible to tell from their height.
The figure on the opposite side of the cave didn’t respond to their yells. He kept walking.
Florida turned to Roger. “Why doesn’t he hear us?”
Roger shook his head. “We can see his light. He should at least see ours.”
When Ro
ger looked back to the figure, he couldn’t see him anymore. He shifted his light around, trying to pick up the moving shape again.
“I lost him,” Roger said. He looked to Florida.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “Where did he go?”
They moved their lights around the cave for several minutes, but they saw nothing. Roger yelled a few more times, and they listened for a response. Even the other shape—the dark, unmoving one—had disappeared.
“Where could he have gone?” Florida asked.
“Let’s turn out our lights. Then we’ll see his light.”
They tried it and the cave below them was lost in darkness. Their little tunnel was still illuminated by the ghostly glow from the crystals in the ceiling, but none of that light reached the depths of the cave.
“Unreal,” Florida said.
They turned on their lights again and resumed scanning.
“Can we string together enough rope to get down there?” Roger asked.
Florida shook her head. “No. Besides, what would we anchor to?”
“Yeah,” Roger said. “Well, there are other holes. See the wall over there? Maybe one of these other caves leads to a better way.”
Florida pushed up away from the hole. “I’m not so sure we should focus on getting down there.”
“But that guy—there was someone there. He might know the way out.”
“Or he could be as lost as we are. And I don’t like that he couldn’t hear us, and I really don’t like that we didn’t see where he went. Maybe he tripped and fell into a pit or something.” She shook her head. “If we had seen more than one person, or a search party, then I would be all for it. But one solo guy? That’s not necessarily a positive thing.”
“You’re crazy,” Roger said. “If we have a chance to find another person, we should jump at it.”
“We can debate this again when the opportunity arises,” she said. She brushed off her hands and stood.
When Roger pushed himself up, part of the rock crumbled and fell down into the hole. He watched the pebbles tumble away and hit the white floor below. A cloud of powder erupted from the impact. Roger inched backwards and then stood to catch up with Florida before she left him.
Chapter Twenty-Six — Doubt
RYAN SHIFTED INTO FIRST gear and turned off the key.
“What are you doing?” Kristin shouted.
Ryan hit a switch and the interior light came on. Kristin squinted.
“Where’s the blood?” Ryan asked.
“What?”
“You said that someone killed Joy in the dark. You said there was blood everywhere and that she died in your arms. How come you don’t have any blood on you?”
Kristin looked down. She flipped her hands over and looked at both sides. She felt her shirt.
“I don’t know, I guess I didn’t get any on me. We have to get help. Please!”
“She died in your arms and there was blood everywhere,” Ryan said. He opened the door and got out. “I think there would be a little blood on you.” He began to walk in front of the Jeep. The headlights were still on. Ryan cut a shadow in the light that was pointed towards the mine.
Kristin rolled down the window.
“Listen—if you don’t believe me then you stay here and I’ll go get help.” She got out and walked up to him. “Give me the keys.”
“No way,” Ryan said. He stuffed the Jeep’s spare key down in his pocket. “Those are my little insurance policy. Why don’t you tell me what kind of work you guys are planning to play on me?”
“Work? What are you talking about?”
Ryan circled the Jeep the opposite direction. He opened the rear door and pulled out Kristin’s helmet. He brought it back to the headlights so he could figure out how to light the flame.
“What are you doing?” Kristin asked.
“I’m going to ruin the practical joke by sneaking in on them,” he said. “Can’t fool me if I’m fooling them.”
“You can’t go in there,” Kristin said. “There’s something terrible happening in there. I’m not going to let you stop me from getting help for Joy and Carlos.”
Ryan fired up the light and loosened the helmet so it would fit his head. He put his hand in front of the acetylene flame and smiled when it burned his fingers.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Where are they hiding?”
“Just think about this,” Kristin said. “If it were a joke, why would I want you to drive away from those guys. I would be trying to lure you in. This isn’t a joke. We’ll go right to a phone and call the cops, or an ambulance.”
“Right, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I know how those guys think. They’re not going to get me that easily.” Ryan turned towards the cave and started walking.
Kristin stood next to the Jeep, stunned as Ryan walked away. She couldn’t let him go. She needed the key.
“Just give me the key, Ryan,” she said.
He made a dismissive wave over his shoulder.
Kristin felt cold desperation settling into her chest. She had been so close to salvation, and now the key was walking right back into danger.
She couldn’t let him go.
Kristin searched around for something appropriate. Her eyes landed on a rock that was about the size of a brick. With no more warning, she picked it up and ran at Ryan. She prayed that the helmet would do its job. She brought the rock down on the back of his head.
He tripped and then splayed out on the ground. The headlamp went out as he hit. Kristin fell on him and jammed her hand into his pocket.
He moaned as she pulled out the key.
“Sorry,” she said. She ran back to the Jeep.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Kristin hauled the wheel to the side and then reached over to lock the doors. Her eyes tried to find Ryan in the dark, but he was just a dark shape on the ground. The Jeep’s headlights didn’t extend to where he had collapsed.
She kept a firm foot on the gas and let out the clutch slowly. The Jeep started forward smoothly, but it picked up speed too quick. Kristin wasn’t ready for it. The vehicle started to buck and she slammed down on the clutch. She rolled back to the narrow access road.
As her speed began to wane, Kristin tried the clutch again. This time was even worse. When the clutch began to engage, the jerking motion made her foot slip off the pedal. She lurched forward and stomped on the accelerator. The engine whined and the Jeep sounded strained. When she pulled her foot from the gas, the vehicle began to buck again.
Ryan appeared at the window. He banged.
“Stop!” he shouted.
Kristin gave it gas again. The road took a sharp left. Kristin didn’t. The front wheels spilled over the edge of the road and hit a patch of loose rocks on the sharp descent. She forgot about the clutch and the gas and slammed both feet down on the brake pedal.
The Jeep stalled.
The steering wheel stiffened in her grip.
The Jeep began to tip.
Before she could straighten the wheel or let up on the brakes, the Jeep was on two wheels. It slammed down on the passenger’s door and began to slide. Kristin hadn’t buckled in. She was tossed to the side.
The Jeep slid to a stop.
Kristin was pressed against the passenger’s door and was looking at a sideways world lit up by the headlights. She heard Ryan’s feet as he jumped on top of the vehicle and ripped open the driver’s door. He stood above her and reached down into the vehicle.
“Grab my hand,” he said.
She slapped his hand away.
“This is your fault,” she said.
“My fault? You just crushed me with a rock and then flipped Joy’s Jeep. How the fuck is it my fault?”
Kristin pushed herself up.
Chapter Twenty-Seven — Hike
TRAVIS FELT NUMB EVERY time he looked back to Miguel. He wanted to go back and verify that there was no pulse. He wanted to shake him and listen for breathing. He knew it was no use. It was
easier to not think about it as soon as he got far enough away that his light didn’t reach Miguel’s form.
Travis inched his way towards the outlet of the giant bowl. The walls were nearly vertical. There was no way to leave the big room in that direction without descending to the white floor. He couldn’t be sure, but it seemed safe to assume that the white floor was responsible for Miguel’s death. It was some kind of poison.
Travis looked around for another solution. Up the wall, he saw a few more holes like the one they had dropped through. Those were too high up to reach. He made a run at one. As soon as he lost his footing, he slipped back down the rock and barely caught himself before he slid right into the white part of the floor. He wasn’t going to try that again.
“Shit,” he whispered.
There was a spot of Miguel’s blood on the strap of the backpack. His eyes kept returning to it.
“Okay. Fuck,” he said. He couldn’t go forward and he couldn’t go up. The only direction left was to follow the curve of the room back to where he’d left Miguel. He could only hope that there was some other exit around the other side of the room.
Travis turned and started walking. As soon as the dark shape of Miguel appeared in the reaches of his light, Travis crossed his arms. He didn’t want to look at Miguel’s eyes—he was sure they would be open. He swung high up the sloped wall. He climbed until his feet slipped with each step and ached from the angle. He gave Miguel a wide berth and tried to not look at his friend’s face.