The Hole

21

Janet wished she’d held on to the JD bottle. Her mouth and throat tasted of dust and death, and she knew it would be a long time before she forgot the sight of life leaving the young soldier’s eyes. Mullins had gone seconds after that without regaining consciousness. Janet had only just been able to see the woman’s face in the red glow afforded by the dashboard lights, but that was enough. Her eyes, sunk back and black in the gloom, stared, unblinking at the ceiling before Janet bent over and gently closed them.

She felt helpless, her mind taking her back to a hospital internship where patients had died on her watch while she tried to save them. She felt the same sense of despair and frustration now as she had then.

But at least back then I knew why; drunk drivers, crack addicts, just plain accidents. But here, now? I don’t have a clue as to what or why.

She couldn’t see that situation changing anytime soon. She moved to stand beside Bill, and put an arm around the big man’s waist, taking what comfort she could from the solid, steadfast man. Fred swigged from the JD, and passed the bottle around. Both Bill, and the girl, took a share, but Janet waved it away.

If I really wanted oblivion, there’s plenty of morphine left in the field kit.

Bill still had the rifle light switched on. He panned it around, finally allowing them to see exactly where the truck had ended up.

They stood in a rough chamber, some thirty feet below the level of the road. Any chance they might have had of clambering out had gone in the most recent rock fall. Now it looked like the sides were nearly sheer, and still crumbling. On the far side of the truck were two darker patches in the shadow.

Caves?

The only sound was a rustle of fresh falls of dirt tumbling into the hole below them.

“How long, do you think?” Janet asked Bill.

“Ten minutes, tops, from when we talked,” he said. “They’ll be here any minute.”

They stood, huddled close together, waiting for a sound or a light from above to tell them that help was at hand.

None came.

“I think we’ve got to assume they’re not coming,” Bill said twenty minutes later. He’d tried the radio three times in that period, and got nothing but static in reply. He put the radio away in a pocket of the flak jacket.

Janet felt panic rise up, and pushed it away.

Now is not the time.

“Can we climb?” she asked.

“I don’t see how,” Bill replied. “It’ll crumble under our weight as soon as we try. There are no obvious handholds, and it’s too steep anyway. I think our only chance is to go through there.”

He washed a beam of light over the cave entrances they’d spotted earlier.

“But we don’t know where they lead,” she started, then realized that Bill knew that already. But he needed to be doing something, she could see that fact in his face, could feel it in the tension in his body.

“How about you two,” the sheriff said, talking to Fred. “Ready to head out?”

Sarah looked up from Fred’s shoulder and nodded.

“We ain’t safe here,” the girl said. “I can feel it.”

Janet, although she would never voice it, felt exactly the same way. There was something oppressive about their situation, and she felt on edge, as if they were being watched, not by one person, but by a crowd, hiding just out of sight in the shadows. She thought of them as pale, thin, with big eyes.

“How about you, Fred?” Bill asked.

Fred nodded.

“What the lady says. It don’t feel right just standing here. I’ve been spooked enough for one lifetime. I’d feel better on the move.”

“Let’s go then,” Bill said, and started out.

“What about Mullins and the others?” Janet said.

Bill stroked her cheek with his free hand.

“Ain’t nothing we can do for them right now,” he said. “We’ll come back for them.”

There were three unspoken words at the end of that sentence, but Janet heard them in her mind as they moved out.

If we can.

Janet stood to one side of Bill, allowing him use both his hands and plenty of room to swing the rifle if need be. She tried not to look at the truck or the bodies as they passed, but when she bent to pick up the field kit, she felt the dead eyes of the soldier, accusing her. She stood quickly and followed Bill as they headed across the chamber.

One of the cave entrances was slightly bigger, but both were big enough to walk into.

“Which one?” Janet whispered.

“You got a light, Fred?” Bill asked. Fred passed him a lighter. The sheriff flicked it on and walked to the nearest cave mouth. The flame held steady and didn’t flicker. He walked to the other entrance. The flame guttered and wafted in a breeze.

“Air’s gotta come from somewhere,” Bill said. He walked forward and shone the beam down the chosen passage. It looked to be mostly stone, and rough-hewn, possibly even man-made.

“Did the Hopman mines stretch this far?” Janet asked.

“Not that I know of,” Bill replied. “But the old man was quite the one for digging where he shouldn’t, so it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“What if we meet…” Janet’s voice trailed off, but Bill knew what she meant.

“Ain’t much we can do about that, except hope that this here light is strong enough to keep them at bay… unless you’ve got any other ideas?”

She shook her head.

“I just want to get up to the road as quick as we can.”

“You and me both,” Bill said.

The four of them went into the tunnel.

Janet was pleased to see that they were on a slight slope upward, and the feel of fresh air on her cheeks gave her more hope. But that was quickly quelled a few minutes later when they came to the first junction. Three dark tunnels faced them, and all three had enough of a draught coming through to cause the lighter to flicker when tested.

Bill shone the light along each tunnel in turn.

“Just more of the same,” he said. “I’m of a mind to keep bearing west, which will be the one on the right if I still have my bearings.”

“Whatever you say, Sheriff,” Fred replied. “I’m a visitor here myself.”

The girl at his side laughed at that, a sound so unexpected that Janet found herself joining in. The sound echoed around them, leaving behind whispers in the shadows before fading. Just as Bill stepped into the right-hand tunnel, an answering laugh echoed around them, one with no trace of humor in it, dull, like a recording of a recording.

“Behind, or in front?” Bill said, sweeping the whole area with light while turning in a circle.

“I couldn’t tell,” Janet replied.

“Behind. Definitely behind,” Sarah replied. Her eyes were wide, and Janet saw white at her knuckles where she gripped Fred’s hand.

Janet was suddenly struck by a terrible thought.

“The bodies!”

She would have headed straight back to the accident site if Bill hadn’t put a hand on her shoulder.

“They’re dead,” he said softly. “And we’re alive. I want to stay that way. Come on. Double time.”

Bill led them up the right-hand tunnel at a fast walk.

They met another junction in less than a hundred yards.

It’s a warren.

Bill didn’t hesitate, taking the rightmost exit. He set a fast pace, and Janet started to breathe heavily after only a few more minutes. Sarah was struggling to keep up, and Fred had to take much of her weight just to keep her moving.

“We need to slow,” Janet said. “Just a bit.”

“The draught’s getting stronger,” Bill replied. “I think we’re nearly out.”

They turned a corner, and the passageway opened up into a much wider chamber. Rubble—the tumbled remains of at least one house lay strewn across the space ahead of them. Bill waved the beam of light around the area. Once again they stood in the bottom of a deep hole, with sides too steep to even contemplate a climb. Stars showed in a patch of sky high above; the opening was thirty feet or so away, but it might as well have been thirty miles.

“This might take longer than I thought,” Bill said. He washed light over the rubble. “See if there’s anything salvageable; just stuff we can carry. I’ll keep watch.”

Janet joined Fred and Sarah in a scramble through the wreckage. Every time they shifted a larger piece of wood aside she held her breath, fearing they might expose a body underneath. But it seemed that the owners hadn’t been home at the time of the collapse.

Or maybe they were, and have already been taken?

She immediately regretted ever having that thought, for all of a sudden she again felt as if there were watchers all around, lurking in the shadows. She tried to keep her mind on the task at hand.

“Got something,” Fred said. He shifted a door aside, reached down, and came up with a packet of biscuits. Further rummaging produced some bottled water, peanuts and dried fruit. Sarah even found a shoulder bag that, once dusted off, served as a carrier for the food.

“At least we won’t starve,” Fred said dryly.

“If we’re to be down here that long, I’m planning on going mad first,” Janet replied, aware of just how close to the truth the remark might be.

Something shifted in the rubble just six feet from where Janet stood. She scuttled backward towards Bill. At the same time, Fred and Sarah backed away, leaving them on the far side of the wreckage from Janet and the sheriff. Wood creaked and moved, dust rose to float in the beam of light… and three too-tall, too-thin figures came up out of the ruined house.

“Weemean,” the nearest one said, and raised a hand.

The sheriff wasn’t taking any chances this time. He stepped forward, aiming the light straight at the lead figure. It started to waver and melt.

“Weemean,” the voice said again, and was joined by others, the two figures behind it… and more, many more, from the dark shadows around them. Even in the gloom Janet was aware of grayer shapes in the darkness, coming closer.

“Bill?” she said.

“I see them,” the big man replied. “Fred, get your ass over here. It looks like we’re leaving.”

Fred and the girl started to circle around the rubble. Pale shapes came out of the darkness behind them, arms reaching.

“Run!” Janet shouted.

Luckily the other pair didn’t need to be told twice.

The sheriff chose a passageway and headed for it. All four of them reached it at the same time and together they fled into darkness lit only by the swinging beam from the flashlight on the rifle. A sound followed them, a high cry, almost mournful, from a choir of voices.

Weemean.