by JE Gurley
The alarming thought occurred to him that separate parts of the hive-mind creature might be able to act independently of one another. If so, some of the ebony meta-millipedes could follow him, while the remainder confronted Masowe, a flaw in his plan he had not accounted for. He could only pray there was a limit to the Intulo’s capabilities.
He finally emerged into the mineshaft coughing and half-blind from the smoke. His lungs sucked in the clean air in great gulps. He forced himself to calm down. Fear could kill him as quickly as one of the insects. His left arm ached from crawling through the winding crack. The pain had grown from a constant annoying presence, to a throbbing agony, pulsating with every heartbeat. It had swollen until the bandage bit into his irritated flesh. He loosened the bandage and peeked at the wound. Angry red lines radiated from the gashes. The wound suppurated a Dijon mustard-yellow pus. He hoped it wasn’t gangrenous. He re-wrapped it to avoid looking at it, almost biting his tongue to quell the pain.
When he reached the crack in the roof of the tunnel he had widened with dynamite, it dawned on him that he might have difficulty climbing out with only one good arm. Sandersohn was strong enough to help Eve and Tells, and Eve could help him up, but he was alone. The only solution he could come up with was to carry rocks to the spot below the crack and pile them high enough to stand on to reach the floor of the tunnel above. It was backbreaking work. Forced to carry larger rocks with both hands, the effort of using his injured left arm brought tears to his eyes.
When he thought his mound of rocks was high enough, he climbed up and leaped for the floor above. It took three tries, but finally he wedged the edge of the opening under his left arm and pulled himself up with his right hand. He lay there for a few minutes gasping for breath, but his urgent fear drove him to move. He emerged at the now demolished wooden door outside the emergency shelter on 136 Level, hoping he could remember the circuitous route back to the #2 elevator.
The power in the mine was off. Without the ventilator fans pumping cooler fresh air into the mine, the mine had become a stagnant hothouse. He estimated the temperature at 125 degrees Fahrenheit. It was hotter and drier than the deserts of Nevada, but in the desert, even the coyotes sought shade when temperatures reached the lethal range. He didn’t have that luxury.
Racing down the maze of mineshafts with only his flashlight and his memory to guide him, his imagination conjured Intulo in every murky shadow. The walls of the tunnel seemed to produce darkness, oozing it from tenebrific pores and spilling it in his path. He was more than a little surprised when he reached the elevator unscathed. Without power, the cage was useless. He stared up into the daunting dark void of the elevator shaft with mounting apprehension. He located the metal ladder mounted to the side of the shaft and began climbing using only one hand. The climb was tiring, made even more difficult by the intense heat and his handicap. He wanted to stop and rest, but he had no choice. It was either climb or die.
He found Eve and the others by accident. When he reached the top of the elevator shaft, he lay there panting while he caught his breath. The air was stifling, an oven set on broil. He allowed himself only a few minutes before setting out for the main elevator that would take him to 70 Level and the ore conveyor belt out of the mine. He stopped when a sharp noise around the corner of a junction startled him. Thinking it was one of the deadly insects, he took out his pistol and waited. He relaxed when he heard Eve’s voice.
“Here it is,” she said.
“Thank goodness,” Sandersohn said. “I don’t think we could walk another meter.”
Alan stepped around the corner and said, “You’ll have to.”
Eve was ecstatic, “Alan!” She ran to him and threw her arms around him. “Thank God you made it.”
“We’re not safe yet,” he said, wincing from the pain her tight embrace caused. “The entire swamp is burning. Without the fans, the tunnels will quickly fill up with smoke. We have to hurry.”
“This might help,” Sandersohn said. He pointed to one of the electric mine carts used to move about the mine. A pool of blood beside the cart and more splattering the seat left little doubt as to the fate of the one who had last driven it. Luckily, it was fully charged. Tells, pale and barely conscious, lay on the back seat. “He’s almost had it. The heat and the running are too much for him. That’s why we sought out a cart.” He handed Alan a short, stubby machinegun. “It’s one of the army’s MP5s. I found it in one of the shafts. I still have the rifle you gave me.”
Alan took the weapon and turned to Eve. “Eve, you drive. Sandersohn, you ride shotgun with me. If you see any creatures, fire only if they attack.” Alan climbed into the front seat beside Eve with Sandersohn on the opposite side in the back seat so they could cover more territory. “Where are we going?”
“Doctor Tells can’t climb, and I won’t leave him,” Eve explained. “There is a spiral ramp at the end of the corridor that will take us up ten levels. That only leaves five levels to climb.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
They passed a junction where cobwebs covered an entire side tunnel. They ignored the human-shaped bundles hanging from the web like ornaments on a macabre Christmas tree. They encountered no live insects, but Alan considered the remains of insect carapaces, legs, and patches of dark viscous fluid more frightening than a horde of the creatures. Intulo had been there.
He rubbed his left hand. The itching from the scratches had become unbearable. He had broken open the scabs while climbing the ladder. The pus stained the bandage ocher.
Eve noticed as well. “My God, Alan! That looks awful.”
“Feels like shit, too,” he replied, “but there’s nothing we can do until we’re out of here.”
“It’s badly infected. There must be a first-aid kit somewhere around here.”
“We don’t have time.”
“You could die.”
He had considered that possibility. “If we don’t get out of here soon, we’ll all die.”
She drove with one eye on his hand, refusing to give up. “It won’t take long ….”
As the cart careened around a curve in the ramp, he saw a man in a white jumpsuit standing on the ramp. “Look out!” he yelled.
The cart skidded and careened sideways, almost hitting the man. He closed his eyes and cringed in fear as the cart slid by him, missing him by a hair’s breadth. He opened his eyes and moved toward them, limping from a bloody cut on one leg.
“Go back,” he warned. “The insects are all over the next level.”
“We have no choice,” Alan told him. “We’re going to 70 Level.” He looked at the man’s leg. “How is your leg?”
“I’ll live,” he answered. “I had a run in with a big beetle.”
“Are you alone?”
He grimaced. Alan thought it was from pain, but when he replied, “I am now,” he realized it was an expression of the man’s anguish. “One of the creatures killed my companion. The army sealed the elevator shafts and trapped us down here. I’m a mining supervisor. My name’s Cody Bray.”
“Listen,” Eve interrupted the introductions. “What is that sound?”
Alan listened, hearing a faint rumble, growing louder. “Insects?”
“No,” Bray answered, his face turning pale. “I recognize the sound. It is water.”
The ground began to shake as the rumble deepened. A strong wind blew past them. Then, a meter-high wall of water surged around the curve and crashed into the wall in front of them. It curled back on itself and rushed toward them. A dozen insects preceded it. They had set aside their differences in their mutual haste to flee. Sandersohn began firing to keep the creatures off the cart. Alan joined in, laying the rifle across his lap and firing one-handed. Luckily, the insects were more concerned with escaping the water than in attacking them. They parted around the electric cart like incoming surf around a rock.
“Someone released the reservoir!” Bray cried. “It will flood the lower levels.”
Alan knew imme
diately who was flooding the mine –Verkhoen.
The surge of water grew deeper and the current stronger. The cart began to slide sideways back down the slope.
“How much water does the reservoir hold?” Alan asked Bray.
“Enough to wash us away,” he replied.
“Eve, turn us around.”
She looked at Alan as if he had lost his mind. “We’ll never outrun it. We have to go up.”
“No, down,” he insisted.
She turned the cart around, heading back down the ramp. The water pushed against the back of the cart trying to lift the rear wheels from the ground. Soon they would become just another piece of flotsam washing downstream. Eve pressed the accelerator to the floor and pulled slightly ahead of the water. They exited the ramp at full speed, just ahead of the flood, but it was catching up quickly. He had to find another way up.
Ahead of them, the lights of the cart reflected from an emergency exit placard above a dark opening in the wall of the tunnel, an airshaft. “Where does that go?” he asked Bray.
“70 Level.”
“Then that’s our ticket out of here. Eve, park it there.”
The cart’s wheels struck the twin loco rails running down the middle of the tunnel and bounced into the air. Out of control, it rammed the wall beside the opening and shuddered to a stop. Alan used the forward momentum to leap from the cart and kick in the metal grate. The impact felt as if it would rip his injured hand from his wrist. The roar of the water rushing at them drowned out the sound of the grate falling down the shaft. The water was knee deep and swifter than a mountain stream. They held hands to form a human chain to reach the open vent. The strong current threatened to send them rolling down the tunnel to their deaths. Sandersohn led the way. He practically pushed Eve into the opening.
“What about Doctor Tells?”
“I’ll bring him along. You climb.”
She crawled into the shaft, but she stared back down at him as she climbed.
“Your turn,” he said to the mine supervisor.
Bray hesitated. “With this bad leg, I might not make it,” he said.
“Use your hands and your good leg. Dogs can manage on three legs. You’re better than a dog, aren’t you?”
Bray grinned and followed Eve. That left Doctor Tells. Like Eve, he wouldn’t leave the old man behind. He would keep his promise to Eve. With his injured arm, Alan didn’t want to slow any of the others down. The water and the noise had roused Tells, but he was still groggy. Alan picked him up and dragged him through the water into the shaft, clinging to the rungs by bracing his legs around the ladder to support both their weights. The water washed the cart down the tunnel out of sight and began spilling over the edge of the opening, creating a waterfall down the shaft. More water dripped on his head from openings above making the rungs slippery. He hoped they managed to reach the conveyor before the shaft flooded entirely, trapping them, which, he realized, must have been Verkhoen’s plan all along. He wanted no witnesses.
“Bray, Sandersohn,” he yelled up the shaft. “When you reach the top, find a rope, and lower it to me.”
“Saving yourself, eh?” Tells moaned. “Well, I don’t blame you.”
“You’re awake. Welcome back to the land of the living, Doctor.”
“I take it that we are in grave danger is the reason you are carrying me like a piece of luggage.”
“A considerable amount of danger, yes.”
“It would be best to abandon me. I am an old man, and I have slowed you down enough already. I feel my usefulness as a traveling companion is at an end.”
“Don’t be silly, Doctor. You’re as light as a feather.”
“Hrumph! I weigh 13 stone. That’s 86 kilos, or 190 pounds to you Americans. Leave me here; besides, I do not wish to be manhandled in this manner.”
“We have to hurry, Doctor,” Alan said in way of apology, as he placed Tells’ feet on the rung beside his. “Just wrap your arms around my shoulders and hang on. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.”
His left hand was swollen and practically useless. His fingers were numb but gripping the rungs sent a throbbing pain from his wrist to his elbow. He climbed by laying his wrist over the rungs and pulling up, using his injured wrist for leverage. His wrist was soon raw and bleeding, but he couldn’t stop. The water had hit the bottom of the airshaft and was rising rapidly. Something had washed into the lower vent blocking it.
Bray reached the top while he and Tells were less than three-quarters of the way up. Alan heard Bray cursing as he beat on metal. “The metal grate is in place and barred!” he yelled.
“Force it,” Alan replied. They had to exit the airshaft soon. The water was less than twenty meters below him, and he was making poor time hauling Tells piggyback.
Bray continued pounding on the grate, but it wouldn’t budge. Sandersohn, waiting below him, said, “Wait. There’s a catch on the side. If I can reach my fingers through, maybe I can move it aside.”
All went silent for several minutes, except for Tells’ heavy breathing and the gurgling of the rising water level. Alan silently urged Sandersohn to hurry.
“Got it!” Sandersohn yelled triumphantly, and Bray kicked the grate aside. Alan watched his three companions disappear through the vent.
There was no time to search for a rope. The water was lapping at Alan’s feet. He struggled to assist Tells up the ladder. The old man made a valiant effort, but he was too weak to help. Groping for the rungs with only one good hand, while attempting to maintain a grip on both the ladder and Tells, made a slow go of it. He was glad to see Sandersohn crawling back down the ladder.
“I couldn’t find a rope.” He reached his hand down for Tells. “Put your arms around me, sir. I will help carry you up.”
Alan pushed Tells’ feet while Sandersohn pulled. The two of them managed to get Tells up the shaft. He crawled through the vent after Tells.
“Thank you,” he said to Sandersohn. To Bray, he said, “Where to?” Water began pouring from the airshaft they had just vacated. “We can’t stay here.”
“There’s the abandoned shaft.”
Alan looked at Bray in surprise. “An abandoned shaft?”
“Yes. The company sealed it years ago. Few people know of it.”
“You can bet Verkhoen does. Where is it?”
“About 700 meter above us on 22 Level and across the mine for a couple of kilometers.”
Alan shook his head. “We’ll never make it. It’s too far to climb and we don’t have time.”
“The water is moving down the mine. It will below us.”
“Yes, but smoke rises. Soon, we’ll be breathing burning swamp fumes.”
“There’s the skip elevator on 65 Level, but the military has sealed the shaft on the surface.”
Alan looked at the bedraggled company. Bray had an injured leg, he had a bum hand, and Tells was too fatigued to be fully aware of where he was. Alan shook his head. “No, we stick to the original plan and try for the ore conveyor on 70 Level. It’s closer, and the military probably haven’t sealed it.”
“We have six levels to climb yet.”
“It’s better than sixty.”
“We’ve only seen the leading edge of the flood. Most of it is winding down the ramp and the elevator shafts, but the mine is a gigantic maze with hundreds of interconnecting shafts and tunnels. It will soon work its way back to us.”
“I’m more worried about what’s below us.”
“The insects?”
“No, Intulo.”
Bray laughed. “That old legend. You’ve been listening to too many superstitious miners.”
“Whatever the creatures we saw are, they’re no legend. The insects are afraid of it. I’m afraid of it,” he admitted.
The mine supervisor stared at him a moment in disbelief, but Alan’s admission of fear and the nods from the others convinced him. “I think I know a short cut.”
Once again, they began marching through the dark mine.
24
July 6, 2016, 3:30 p.m. Ngomo Mine, 30 Level –
Duchamps was dying and he knew it. His hand was numb from pressing it to the wound in his side. Blood leaked from between his fingers. The air was chilly in spite of the heat. He was shivering as his extremities shut down in a futile attempt to conserve blood for his brain and heart. He would die happy if he could have killed Verkhoen. Instead, Verkhoen had the diamonds and was free to blame him for the carnage. Verkhoen would come out of the entire disaster without a blemish.
He had given up hope of rescue. The army hadn’t reached his level. That meant they were being cautious, retaking the mine one level at a time, sealing each level behind them to prevent any insects from escaping. They had shut down the fans to prevent the creatures from using the ventilator shafts to move about, which explained the rise in temperature. He didn’t know which would kill him first, the bugs, the heat, or Verkhoen’s bullet.
The floor shuddered beneath him. He had forgotten about the reservoir and Verkhoen’s threat to destroy it. Now, he had a fourth option – drowning. The rushing water would sweep him down the tunnels like a pebble in a river, grinding him to an unrecognizable pulp. Verkhoen would enjoy that.
He groaned as another spasm of pain wracked his body. The millipede venom was still playing havoc with his system. His mind had wandered in and out of lucidity for hours. He thought he had heard insects scampering around in the dark, but for some reason they had not approached him. He presented an easy target. His rifle lay across his lap, but his finger was too numb to pull the trigger. He no longer knew which sounds were real and which ones his delusional mind had conjured. Perhaps insanity would overwhelm him before death. If so, dying would be simple. He probably wouldn’t even realize he was dead.
When he felt a presence in his mind, he thought he was hallucinating. “Maybe it’s just ghosts,” he said to the empty tunnel. His words echoed. He repeated himself louder to enjoy the sound of his voice. “Maybe it’s just ghosts,” he yelled. The echo proved he was still alive. The tingling in his mind didn’t go away. As it grew stronger, fear dredged up from somewhere deep within his psyche rose like a fountain of black despair to taunt him. There were no words, no language, and even the images exploding in his mind were incomprehensible. They did have one common theme. They all evoked a sense of hunger and a craving for more than food. He felt like a piece of meat in a butcher’s display case with a patron licking his chops. Was this the devil that Verkhoen had ranted about? Had they dug too far and reached hell?