by Paul Gait
He squelched his way the short distance to the cylindrical metal ‘pipe’ and carefully scraped his spade along its length to expose more of it.
‘Funny angle for a pipe…It’s probably just a bit of scrap …what’s that noise?’ he wondered, listening intently. ‘Sounds like ticking…it’s only my watch you donut…yeah but my watch is digital…dhurr!’ he chided himself. ‘Well unless somebody’s buried a clock down here…what else makes a ticking noise? Jesus! It can’t be…surely, not a bomb? Christ a bomb!’ he said, backing away from it.
‘No it can’t be! It wasn’t on the bomb survey,’ he argued. ‘Well, if it is, I need to get my arse out of here pronto.’
Quickly he galvanised himself into action and rushed to the ladder. He started climbing rapidly up out of the hole.
Suddenly he felt the ladder start to move from its forty five degree angle to the vertical. Initially he thought Joe had returned to site and was messing about. He looked up and to his horror saw that the mud supporting the top of the ladder was caving in. It was pushing the ladder backwards.
Frank hung on desperately as it went beyond vertical and hit the opposite side of the hole. The sudden jolt dislodged his fingers and he fell almost on top of the suspected bomb.
As the landslip continued to pour mud into the hole he was conscious of the JCB also moving dangerously forward, threatening to fall into the hole as the ground moved underneath it. The weight of it had obviously stressed the edge of the top soil.
‘God, perhaps I should have shored it up after all,’ Frank thought irrationally.
Too late. The earth continued to avalanche into the hole. The weight of the landslip was bending the aluminium ladder which was now pushing on his chest.
Winded by the fall and the tightening compression on his chest Frank frantically scrabbled to his feet to get higher up.
‘God, I’m being buried alive…effing hell.’
The avalanche of mud continued, the weight of it pushing on his chest restricting his breathing and he blacked out.
CHAPTER 21
Liz descended the steps to the flat still desperately thinking about a convincing lie to tell William about where she was going that evening.
She had never done anything like this before in all the long years of their marriage.
She was further wrong footed by William’s total change of temperament, for as she opened the door, he was standing in front of her with a forced smile and a bunch of flowers. Whereas when she left him earlier he was still very down.
She was now overwhelmed by guilt about Frank’s invitation.
‘Hello, darling. I’m sorry about my miserable face over the last week. Will you forgive me?’ he grovelled, offering her the flowers.
‘I…I, well…yes…yes of course,’ she said completely overwhelmed.
‘I’ve made a reservation for a special anniversary meal tonight. I hope you haven’t got any other plans,’ he continued. I’m so sorry about… you know slapping you. Please forgive me. I will never do it again.’
Liz was reminded of her anger but took the bouquet from him and slowly looked at the flowers and then at him.
‘I tell you this,’ she said, her stomach screwed up in anger. ‘I won’t be treated like those women on army bases that end up as punch bags. I can’t say I understand the trauma of being in a war zone. But I do know that domestic violence is not an excuse for it.’
‘No. I know and I wouldn’t expect you to. It was just…you touched a raw nerve and I’m desperately sorry.’ His eyes brimmed.
He tried to hold her hand but she turned her back on him and slumped down on the settee putting the flowers beside her.
‘You know when we first met, you really swept me off my feet,’ Liz explained, ‘I used to think you were so…so sweet. A real macho man. I never thought I’d end up getting close to you, let alone marrying you.’
‘I know it hasn’t been easy for you with me doing the job I do. But it’s worked ok for the last decade or so hasn’t it?’ William said, sitting beside her.
‘Has it?’ Liz questioned. ‘We’re like an old married couple who are too familiar with each other. The excitement wears off. The magic dies and you take each other for granted. And you’re hardly at home.’
‘You knew what service life would be like. We discussed this before we got married.’
‘I know we did But I didn’t appreciate what it would mean.’
‘So what are you saying? You’ve had enough of me…of this marriage. Is that what you’re saying? Well, is it?’ he insisted. ‘Is that why you’ve got another man in your life?’ he probed.
‘Another man! What do you mean?’ Liz said, uncomfortably.
‘In the little jar by the door. There’s a gold bracelet with the name of Frank on it.’
‘Oh that…that…’Liz shifted anxiously on the settee.’ I umm…had trouble with the drains. I had a flood in here. There was a blockage and… um one of the pub customers offered to sort it out for me. He took his bracelet off and we thought we’d lost it. I wondered where it went,’ she said, withholding the full story. Liz was beginning to feel as if things were unravelling and her dalliance was about to be exposed.
‘So where do we go from here?’ William asked.
‘Well I’ve made plans for this evening,’ she informed him. ‘I was expecting you to be in bed for the next couple of days and I…didn’t want to disturb you. So I…’
‘But I’ve been away for a long time,’ William pleaded.
‘Yes. But you’re not the William I know,’ Liz said firmly. ‘When he comes back, I might still be here.’ Liz amazed herself at her boldness. Perhaps she was moving on after all.
CHAPTER 22
Joe returned to site to discuss the revised timetable with Frank but couldn’t immediately see him.
‘Well, there’s the JCB, but where is he? Bleeding typical, I bet he’s pissed off again, just as I thought.’
Joe walked towards the JCB, passing the excavations which Frank had completed.
‘Well I suppose at least he’s dug and shored up these,’ he observed.
As he arrived by the JCB he was dismayed at what he saw. ‘Christ, he’s left this right on the side of the hole. Any minute now it could fall in. The useless idiot.’
‘Dammit, look at the state of this one,’ he cursed, as he peered into the collapsed hole. ‘It looks like it’s collapsed and he’s buggered up the ladder as well. Oh for Chrissake!’ he said in exasperation. ‘You want a job doing. Do it yourself. I’ll give him what for when I get hold of him. I bet he went straight back down the pub as soon as I told him they weren’t coming today. No wonder he hung up so fast.’
Frank regained consciousness. He was having difficulty breathing. There was a great weight on his chest. Fortunately, the ladder which had bent under the weight of the landslip, had also protected him from being completely crushed.
‘Oh god,’ he groaned. ‘My chest hurts. Where am I?’ There was a ticking noise. Was he in his bedroom? It was dark underneath the mud cocoon. Pitch black in fact. Was it night time?
Slowly he recalled what had happened. The hole…the ladder…the collapse. He must be buried. As his senses cleared, he suddenly recalled the bomb.
‘Jesus…the bomb…shit I can hear it ticking…’
Suddenly the gravity of the situation hit him. A wave of panic washed over him. He felt claustrophobic. He was going to die, buried alive and nobody would know where he was.
‘Come on. You can handle this. You’re not a babbie. You can do this,’ he repeated, berating himself.
He assessed his physical health. Apart from the weight on his chest and a dull pain in his leg, generally he felt as well as he could, given the present circumstances.
‘At least I don’t think I’ve broken anything, thank Christ. Hopefully it’s just bruised.’
His arms had been forced back against the excavated wall behind him in a ‘hands up’ posture. It was as if he was surrendering to the vi
cious onslaught.
He could feel the closeness of the dirt in front of his face, his breath bouncing back at him.
‘I wonder if I can just move my arms and clear some space in front of my face?’ he asked himself, flexing his arms.
His efforts were rewarded with a shower of more dirt which cascaded down on to his face. He quickly closed his eyes and shook his head to dislodge a lump of mud that had slipped down and rested against his chin.
‘Ugh, uck,’ he spluttered, spitting the dirt off his lips. Again he flexed his biceps and his efforts allowed some movement of his arms and hands. Slowly, by moving his wrist in a waving motion, he dislodged more dirt and gained some more space. But the earth prison appeared to be solid.
Irrationally he thought, ‘this must be what it’s like to be trapped under an avalanche in the snow.’
He opened his eyes again, still unable to get his hands to his face. He flittered his eyelids to get rid of the fine earth that had settled on them and shook his head to remove the dirt that had again cascaded down on to his face.
Slowly, he was able to bring his arms from their ‘surrender position’ down by his side; his fingers frantically digging through the mixture of clay and loose soil until he could wriggle his hands in front of him. Carefully he felt around in the darkness. He touched something metallic. It was the buckled aluminium ladder which was squashing his chest.
‘If I can just move this a bit I might be able to breathe easier,’ he groaned. He pushed against the ladder. But nothing moved. He tried again, putting all his efforts into shoving.
‘M-o-v-e you bastard,’ he strained. Stars filled his head as a reward for his efforts.
Nothing moved.
Again he tried. ‘M—o—v—e,’ he demanded, putting every ounce of his strength into a mighty heave.
This time his efforts were rewarded with another cascade of soil as the ladder moved a fraction and took some slight pressure off his chest.
Exhausted by his efforts, he took stock of his situation.
‘Hopefully,’ he thought, ‘Joe will be back here in a minute and he’ll find me.’
Above ground, Joe had made a decision. ‘I’d better move the JCB before we lose it in the hole as well. God he’s piggin’ useless,’ Joe continued, muttering to himself. ‘I wonder if he’s bothered to lock it?’
Joe climbed up the steps of the machine and tried the door. To his annoyance it opened. Climbing into the cab he was further infuriated to see the keys in place.
‘Jesus, he was in such a bleedin’ hurry to get to the pub that he’s even left the keys in the ignition. Anybody could have nicked it.’
Joe fired up the JCB and revved the engine.
Underground, Frank heard the JCB start up and assumed that Joe was on site. Frantically he started shouting. ‘JOE, JOE. JOE I’M DOWN HERE,’ he yelled at the top of his voice. ‘HELP! THE HOLES COLLAPSED. JOE, DOWN HERE. ITS ME, FRANK.’
But shut in the cab and with the engine noise, Joe couldn’t hear and Frank’s cries went unheard.
Unused to driving the JCB, initially Joe selected the wrong gear and it lurched backwards towards the edge of the hole, the backhoe precariously nudging some more of the mudslide.
Realising his mistake and with his ‘heart in his mouth’, he slammed on the powerful brakes and jiggled with the gear lever to select the forward gear. In his haste he stamped on the accelerator and the giant wheels spun on the collapsing terrain causing it to lurch quite violently. Joe, fearing that it was going to fall into the hole, was seriously contemplating having to leap out.
‘Come on you bastard,’ Joe shouted at the bucking machine, egging it on as if it was a misbehaving animal.
At last, Joe gained control and coaxed the machine away from the edge of the hole spitting more earth into the collapsed excavation as it moved.
‘Gently does it,’ he encouraged.
Meanwhile, trapped in his underground prison, Frank could hear the noise of Joe’s battle with his digger and felt the vibrations through the soil. Apprehensively he waited, expecting any minute to hear it falling into the hole and being crushed by the additional 800 kilo weight.
He closed his eyes as more dirt cascaded on top of the pile of mud above him and he waited fearfully.
After moving the JCB far enough away from the hole, Joe killed the engine and locked it. Climbing down, he went back to inspect the damage to the edge of the hole.
‘Bugger. What a mess! Well, we’ll just have to have another go at that tomorrow, if I can find that bleeding Frank that is,’ he muttered, crossly.
In the meantime, Frank had dug more fallen dirt away from his face and started calling again.
‘JOE, JOE. I’M DOWN HERE. I’M IN THE HOLE. HELP JOE HELP.’ The hole colluded against him and absorbed his voice preventing it from escaping. His cries for help just bounced off the dirt wall in front of him.
Joe was ‘tamping mad’ with his missing partner and had returned to his car to go to the pub and remonstrate with him.
Frank faintly heard Joe start his car and his hope of rescue faded.
‘JOE, HELP. I’M DOWN HERE. IN THE HOLE. JOE HELP,’ he repeated hopelessly, his throat raw from his repeated distress call.
He paused to hear for any response. Nothing.
The silence was broken only by the rasping of Frank’s breath and the ticking of the bomb beside him. The landslip had dumped Frank right by the side of it.
‘Oh god, if I don’t suffocate then I shall be blown up. Nobody will know what happened to me,’ Frank whined dramatically. His spirits nose-dived.
However, instead of dashing off to the pub, Joe had only driven the short distance to the site entrance and decided to phone Frank. ‘Why didn’t I think about this before?’ he castigated himself.
After punching in Frank’s number, he was gratified to hear it ringing out…’Come on Frank answer the bleedin thing,’ he said impatiently. ‘Where the hell are you?’
Frank was startled by the vibration from his back pocket as Joe’s call rang his mobile. ‘Jesus, I thought that was the bomb then,’ he said his heart racing. ‘Why the hell didn’t I think of using it before?’ he reproached himself.
His next problem was attempting to retrieve it from his back pocket. The additional dirt had filled in the void that he’d been able to make. Slowly and methodically he manoeuvred his right hand away from the ladder and tried to move it the short distance behind him to his back pocket and the vibrating phone.
On the surface, Joe’s patience had run out as it tripped into Frank’s voice mail. ‘Frank, I don’t know where the hell you are, but get your arse back to site pronto.’ Joe stabbed the red button and ended the call.
The vibrations in Frank’s back pocket stopped. ‘Shit, he’s hung up. If I can…get…to…it,’ he encouraged himself, ‘then I can…get help.’
With great difficulty, he moved his buttocks away from the excavated wall far enough to slide his hand along it towards his pocket.
‘Nearly there, just a bit more… ‘ His fingers gripped the edge of the phone. ‘Oh that’s it. Now can I prise it out of my pocket….slowly…slowly,’ he coaxed. ‘Right, got it now.’
As he withdrew, it he wondered if it would work anyway. He knew the signal was pretty intermittent on the site and underneath several feet of mud and dirt it was probably a hopeless wish. Then again, he reasoned, if he could receive a call, surely he’d be able to make one. Wouldn’t he?
‘Now if I can get my arm back round…must stop…’ The exertion of moving his arm through the sea of loose dirt was exhausting and made him hot and breathless…’. catch my breath.’
Abruptly the ticking stopped. ‘Thank God for that,’ he thought.
However, he suddenly realised that this might signal the detonation phase.
‘Oh my god, is this where I kiss my arse goodbye?’ he muttered, the weight of silent anticipation heavy on his mind. After what seemed an eternity nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief.
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‘I need to get the phone up to my face and call Joe.’
But his arm was jammed again. He started twisting it sideways to help free it. The trick worked. His arm was becoming loose. ‘Gently…gently,’ he whispered, using every ounce of concentration he could muster.
Suddenly the pressure on his chest increased as more soil slipped into the excavation. ‘Shit, that ladder hurts. It’s sticking into my ribs again.’
The voice in his head told him ‘concentrate on the phone.’
But after the initial movement, his arm got jammed again. Try as he might, it wouldn’t move any further in the small gap he had created, because he was now holding the phone.
‘Just like a monkey trap,’ he thought, ‘drop the banana or you get caught!’
No matter what he tried, it wouldn’t move. ‘Oh shit. It’s stuck.’ The position of his arm was cutting off the blood flow to his hand.
‘Bugger, I’ve got pins and needles in my arm now. Don’t let go of the phone, don’t let go off the phone,’ he repeated the mantra. But after a few minutes the loss of circulation made him lose feeling in his fingers and he could feel the phone slipping out of his grasp.
‘Oh no, not now I’ve got it this far. Please God, don’t let me…’ but it was gone. The panic returned. There was not much air in the small void he’d created and now he realised he was hyperventilating.
Then he faintly heard the car pull away and knew he was now really on his own. It was now down to him to get himself out of the mess. But how?
CHAPTER 23
Joe went straight to the Flying Machine, where Frank had been drinking earlier. He made his way through the small corridor to the large public bar. It was virtually empty. He knew Frank wouldn’t be in the Lounge bar. It was not his style.
‘George, have you seen Frank?’ he asked the Landlord.
‘You mean the birthday boy? No, not since dinner time. Liz tells me he was in a bit of a hurry, almost didn’t finish his last pint.’