by JM HART
Casey walked back to the basement passing the dog that patiently waited for him. She stepped in behind as he reached for the door handle. Suddenly the door was pushed inwards. He let go, stumbling backwards over the dog.
“What the …”
Terry emerged from the darkened doorway. “Why are you on the floor?”
Casey, Terry and Amy laughed nervously.
“What the hell took you so long?” Terry asked.
“I had to go to the bathroom. It’s all clear.”
“What’s clear?” Terry said. “The house or your bladder?”
“Funny! The house. It’s just a bit of a mess.”
The dog scratched at the back door, so Amy let her out. Five minutes later it scratched at the door, wanting back in. It settled on the kitchen floor and slept for the next few hours while Amy, Terry and Casey cleaned and secured the house. Terry and Casey boarded the windows and Amy tidied up. Light started to shine under the back door. There was no point in going to bed, they were all hungry anyway.
“Let’s have breakfast.” Terry fired up the stove and Amy pulled out the sausages and egg powder. Casey made the toast. They worked together as a team, not talking but enjoying the ordinariness of preparing breakfast.
*
In a labyrinth of darkness Joe watched Sophia glow while she slept restlessly. Stunned, he looked on in silence.
Beads of sweat sparkled on Sophia’s forehead like jewels. She was the only source of light in the dark tunnel. Slowly she started to lift off the ground, then gently as a feather floated back down and the glow dimmed. Father McDonald kept murmuring his prayers and Joe joined in and whispered his own. Together, they begged God to give her the strength to do His will.
Father McDonald switched on the torch. Joe covered his eyes to shield them from the artificial light, watching Father McDonald pop a tiny pill into his mouth. Rubbing his chest he said, “It just needs to keep ticking until this is over.” Then he leant over to Sophia and whispered, “Sophia, it’s time to wake up. We have to get moving.”
Joe packed up the rubbish of their snack bars as the torch flickered, unnerving him. It was the last torch. Sophia dusted herself off and silently they continued walking. The tunnels narrowed. Two hours passed before the torch flickered again, and the light was suddenly gone.
Father McDonald pushed the light on his watch and said, “Have trust, Joe, we will be out of here soon. I feel it in my aching bones.”
Joe thought he could hear the sound of water drip, drip dripping into a pool. Pinpointing sound in the tunnels is difficult. He walked on, took three steps, then dropped into a body of cold water.
“What was —” Father MacDonald said.
It’s too late to stop them. They were walking so close. Joe felt the weight of Father McDonald, followed by Sophia, falling on top of him, driving him under. The backpacks weighed them down. Joe started to panic. Father McDonald’s head went under the water and he stretched his arms out to Joe, shining the tiny light from his watch. Joe saw the dot and struggled to the surface.
The light went out. Under the water, Father McDonald struggled out of his backpack. He splashed to the surface. “Let go of the bags.”
“We won’t survive if we let go of the packs,” Joe said.
“Joe, let them go. We have no choice.”
“Oh God.” Joe slipped one arm at a time out of the harness. “Sophia, hold onto my shoulders and don’t let go. I’ll get us out of here.” He didn’t want to turn, he didn’t want the light, he was afraid of what he might see.
“I’m a good swimmer, I am right behind you,” she said. “But Joe, what about your prosthesis?”
“It’s an Aqualeg, an amazing invention. I can do everything I did before I lost my leg. Now stay close, hen. Both of you stay close. After this, I think a warm fire with good friends and a whiskey might be in order.”
After ten minutes, the water felt as if it was now freezing over. Joe breaststroked slowly in front of them hoping he was not leading them in circles. We have to get out of here.
Father McDonald said, “I suppose we could think of this as an extended baptism.”
“Or a mikveh,” Joe said, shivering.
Sophia’s teeth were chattering. If there had been light, Joe would have seen that her lips and under her eyes were purple. “What’s a mikveh?” Sophia asked.
“It’s an opportunity to cleanse your spirit of any negative energy that you may have collected. The mikveh is a body of water that is connected to the flowing waters of mercy that come out of Eden. The ocean is a perfect place for a mikveh. You meditate on the layers of your spirit, or aura, being cleansed while you bob up and down under the water eleven times or more.”
“I love the idea of the ocean but I have never seen it in real life. One day, Joe, I would like to go to the beach and maybe we can do a mikveh together,” Sophia said.
“Ah, shit!” Under the surface of the water Joe hit his leg on something hard.
“Okay, maybe not,” Sophia said.
“Ah, no, hen. I hit my knee on a rock.” He reached under and felt around, finding a rock ledge. He pulled himself up onto it and crawled on his hands and knees until he slapped dry land. Joe climbed out of the water, then walked back, careful not to slip, and lifted Sophia up. They both fumbled in the dark for Father McDonald’s arms. Joe seized Father McDonald’s cold skeletal hands and pulled his dead weight up and onto the rock. They all sat on the edge.
Father McDonald pushed the light button on his watch and the chamber’s darkness was penetrated by the faintest glow. Using the light, he awkwardly tried to force his hand into his wet pocket.
“What are doing?” Joe said.
“My pills. They’re gone.”
The roof was invisible beyond the reach of the light. Joe helped him up and they started shuffling over the rock onto solid ground. The cave walls were opening out. Joe felt Sophia, at his back, hook two fingers into his pants belt loop.
“Stay close, hen.” Joe walked with his arms outstretched, feeling for obstacles and hit another wall. His heart beat faster; he thought he had reached the end. They had been travelling for days. This can’t be it. He felt along the walls. “Sophia, let go, and stay where you are.” He shuffled his feet a few steps to the left and hit a wall. He then shuffled to the right and there was another wall, a dead end. He wanted to weep, but placed his forehead against the cold rock, his arms outstretched, touching each side. The tips of his fingers on his right hand slipped into a crevice. He moved them deeper into it, not daring to move any other part of his body. He could fit in his fist; he opened his palm, and turned his body towards the gap and measured the space with his hands.
“Father McDonald, turn your watch light back on, please.”
Sophia and Father McDonald moved up beside Joe. There was a gap, hardly big enough for Joe to fit through. Sophia would fit. Side-on, they all might be able to squeeze through. Where would it take them? Joe wondered. He smiled at his two companions. “What do we do?”
“We keep moving forward,” Father McDonald said. He let his light fall dim and waited for Joe to lead.
One by one they slid into the suffocating space. The darkness was getting to Joe; frustrated, he wanted to scream out loud. He thought of Sophia and how brave she was. He reached back and searched for her hand and held it tight. He sucked in his belly and kept shuffling to the right.
“You know, Joe, every turn we have made is to the east,” Sophia said.
He stopped shuffling, breathing heavily. “Really, I’m going to resist the urge to ask you how you know that.”
Time was non-existent and the darkness was making Joe feel a little crazy. He stopped again and looked at his hand against the rock and thought he could see it. He held it up in front of his face and was able to detect a faint outline. He looked back at Sophia and could identify her shape. He shuffled forward, urged on by the possibility the light was just around the next bend. It was getting tighter and the rock scraped against
his belly, ripping his clothes. He squeezed around a sharp narrow corner past a protruding boulder into an opening of blinding light. Instinctively, he covered his eyes. “You’re going to have to let your wee eyes adjust, hen. It’s bright.”
Sophia and Father McDonald followed him into the open, shielding their eyes. A stream of light from above shone down into the middle of a domed cavern. Beyond the hole in the ceiling was the sky. Their movement disturbed the wildlife nestled amongst the cracks in the cavern’s walls. Hundreds of birds took flight, chirping and squawking, spiraling up and escaping into a clear blue sky. It was a magnificent sight. With their heads tilted back they watched in awe as the birds flew into the streaming light. The cave went silent. Joe reckoned himself to be trapped in the pit of a lion’s den. He looked at Father McDonald who was holding his chest trying to catch his breath. He dropped his hand to his side aware of Joe’s gaze.
Father McDonald squeezed out a few words. “Smell that? That’s the smell of fresh English air.”
“How do you know we didn’t make our way to the tip of Scotland?” Joe asked, sitting on a boulder. “Don’t look at me like that, hen, I’m just resting me peg. I suggest you two do the same.”
“Scotland has a sweet fragrance of life that warms your heart in the coldest of winters. That’s how I know we must be in England,” Father McDonald said.
“Come on, we have to push on. It’s not much further,” Sophia said. But the men weren’t budging. Sophia sat down and wrapped her arms around her legs trying to warm up. “Okay, five minutes.” Her clothes were drying slowly, but she knew a warm bed awaited, and a breakfast Joe would die for.
*
The air through the opening in the cave ceiling was sending a chill down Sophia’s spine. They had been resting for fifteen minutes, but it seemed to her like ages. She was feeling the cold more and more and just wanted to get going again — they were so close. Off to her far right a shadow moved and she turned her head as slowly as possible. The figure was familiar, an animal. It looked like the deer and it knew she had seen it. It turned down a tunnel on the other side of the cave. Sophia got up. “We have to go now. Joe, help Father McDonald. Follow me,” and she ran off after the deer.
“Wait, Sophia, don’t run off like that,” Joe said.
Sophie walked closer to the deer. Every step she took made noise and she was afraid she would scare it off. She reached out her hand and it was gone. Joe and Father McDonald came up behind her.
“What is it?” Father McDonald asked. The three of them stood waiting for their eyes to adjust to the new darkness. The smell of salty air had penetrated down the musty tunnel.
“It’s not far now,” she said, looking at Father McDonald. “Casey knows we are coming. The others are together. They are tired and scared but safe for now.” They moved in silence. Joe had given up questioning her. His life, all our lives, have changed so much. She knew what it was like to lose the people you loved and felt his heartache. If we could only live within our dreams we would be happy and live a thousand lifetimes in a single night. He lost his best friend and brother. She reached out and held Joe’s larger hand.
“Can you smell that?” Joe said. “That smells good.” They walked into another tunnel, another chamber.
“Casey was here,” she said, looking at the jug and bones on the ground.
“Who is Casey?” Joe finally asked.
“He’s my friend. That’s who we are going to see. He’s from Utah.”
“Utah in the US of A? But, hen, we haven’t left the country. At best we are near the Holy Island.”
“That’s perfect, Joe. I knew you could do it. God sent you for a reason. To be the navigator.”
“That smell, it smells like a breakfast bar.”
“Is Casey still here?” Father McDonald asked.
“Not in the caves,” she said, “but I can feel something else. He was upset, something about a dead girl.”
“Oh, shiver me timbers, hen, we’d better get a move on, so we can help.”
“No, we can’t help. She died a long time ago.” They walked on and Father McDonald stepped into another cavern, and into and through another tunnel. “Over there,” he said pointing, “up ahead.”
“What?” Joe said. “Something smells good.”
Sophia could see the ginger-bearded man in medieval robes passing through a wall. “I see him.”
“Who is ‘he’?” Joe said. “I don’t see anything.”
“I don’t know,” Sophia said. “Can you see him too, Father?”
“Yes, yes, I can Sophia.”
They moved towards the wall and Joe followed his nose and found the opening into the basement. The smell of fresh eggs and toast drifted down the stairs.
“What if we are in the wrong place and the people on the other side of that door aren’t friendly, after all? It could be a base of infected soldiers.”
“Have you seen any of the infected eat?”
“At the beginning, yeah. I couldn’t tell them apart until they got violent,” Joe said.
“Okay, Joe, you go first,” Father McDonald said.
“No, it’s not necessary,” Sophia said.
“If it’s not necessary, why are you whispering?” Joe asked.
“I, I don’t know. You started whispering first,” she said.
*
Casey watched Terry cook. He was currently working at shaking the pan to keep the scrambled eggs from sticking. He had made porridge with stewed rhubarb as well as kippers with fried tomato and toast. He scraped them into a dish then searched for a place on the table. Terry looked at all the food and shuffled a couple of plates around to make room; he realized he’d overdone it.
He looked at Amy. She was looking at him with a smile. “Hope you don’t think we three are going to eat all of this?”
Terry was wearing Amy’s great-aunt’s apron and wiped his hands on it. He scratched his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said. “How wasteful. We should be conserving the food. Look at me acting like nothing is happening.”
Amy got up and hugged him. “It’s okay,” she said, picking up a plate and kissing his cheek before spooning scrambled eggs onto it.
Casey felt Terry was tearing up. It was all starting to get to him. “Don’t worry, Terry. I promise you all this …” Casey said, waving his hand over the table like a magician, “will be gone in no time and —” Casey stopped speaking. They froze and looked towards the basement door. The stairs creaked. The dog started to bark. Casey pushed back his chair and stood up.
“Hush,” Casey said and tugged at the dog’s collar. The dog growled at the door.
Terry stood in front of Amy and looked back at her and Casey. “What now?” Terry whispered. “God, please, give us a break.” He turned back to the basement door. Bang bang bang. All of them jumped with fright. The dog barked. Nobody headed for the door. Terry turned to Amy and Casey indicating for them to go into the other room and hide, but neither of them budged. He picked up the frying pan. The handle started to turn. A big wet dirty man stood at the threshold. Terry waved the frying pan up in the air, like a batter waiting for the pitcher to throw the next ball. He watched the big fella eyeballing Amy and Casey.
“You Casey?” he said in a thick Scottish accent and nodded to the boy.
“Who wants to know?” Terry said.
“Yes, I’m Casey.” He stepped around the table out of Terry’s reach.
“Casey, get back. What are you doing?”
“I have someone who wants to meet you,” the intruder said, stepping aside.
“Don’t you come any closer. Who are you, and how did you get into the house?” Terry didn’t take his eyes off the man. “Casey, do you know this man?” Terry was at his wits’ end, tired and hungry, endorphins from the last twenty-four hours starting to ache in his muscles, and the frying pan was getting heavy.
“My name is Joe,” he said. “I have a strange wee lass who believes you are expecting her.”
/> Terry looked at Casey; they held each other’s gaze.
“Where is she?” Casey asked.
“Sophia. Come up here.”
They could hear a mixture of delicate and shuffled footsteps climbing the stairs. There was more than one person. He couldn’t hold the pan up any longer. Amy put her hand on his arm and it collapsed by his side.
Joe said, nodding to the table, “Looks like the lass was right. Looks like you were expecting us. I could smell it for the past five minutes.”
Amy stepped around Terry. “Please, sit. Where are my manners?”
Terry kept one eye on the big fella and the door. Coming out of the darkness, Sophia stepped into the kitchen. She was wet, dirty and skinny, in need of a good meal. Despite that, her long wavy golden hair shone like Amy’s when caught in a summer’s rain. She had rosy lips and cheeks and she was beautiful. Casey had tears welling in his eyes as he looked at Sophia. Together they smiled, and gave a little chuckle. Casey was entranced and slowly walked over to her and she hugged him. Terry couldn’t resist; he approached Sophia and squeezed her arm to check she was real.
“I’m real,” she said.
He pulled his hand back and looked over to Amy, who was staring at Sophia as well. Suddenly there was a cough from behind her.
“Sorry, Father,” Sophia said, moving further into the kitchen and stepping aside. There was a tall, frail man behind her. Terry grabbed a chair and sat him at the table before he collapsed. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”
“Please, everyone come in, help yourself. My name is Amy, this is Terry and, well, it seems you know Casey.”
Joe and Sophia went to the sink and washed their faces and hands. “Why are you rinsing them three times?” Casey asked Joe.
“My grandfather used to do that,” Amy said. “Casey, get the man a clean hand towel from the drawer next to your right leg.”