Blood Beast

“Loch… Bill-E… take it easy. No outbursts. No insults. Relax. Think nice thoughts. Tell me when you feel normal.”

“How can I be normal when I’m stuck down a—” Bill-E shrieks.

“Nice thoughts,” I interrupt sternly, sensing the throbbing again, coming from the rocks around us. “Loch— you thinking nice things?”

“Yeah,” Loch grins. “I’m imagining the baby’s howls if we let him drop.”

“Loch!”

“OK,” he grouches and shuts his eyes. After a few seconds his expression clears, he opens his eyes and nods to show he’s in control. Bill-E’s less composed, but that’s understandable given the situation he’s in.

“You need to talk to us,” I tell him. “We’re going to pull you out but we don’t want to hurt you. Are there any stones jabbing you, sticks, wire… anything that might cut into you if we pull you up quickly?”

“I don’t think so,” Bill-E sobs. “But it’s hard to tell. I don’t know.”

“Relax,” I soothe. “You’re safe. We have you. Now concentrate and let us know how we can help you out of this mess with the least amount of discomfort.”

Bill-E focuses and moves slightly, exploring the unseen territory around his legs. Finally he gulps and says, “I think it’s safe to pull.”

“Great.” I smile falsely. “Loch—you ready?” He grunts. “We’ll take it easy to begin with. Act on my command. Pull softly when I say. Stop if I give the order. Understand?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs.

I’d like to wipe my palms dry but I don’t think Bill-E would hang there patiently if I released him. So, gripping tighter, glad of the dirt on my skin which counteracts the sweat, I give Loch the nod and we tug. Resistance, but not for very long. Soon Bill-E’s sliding out of the hole-within-the-hole, trembling wildly but otherwise unharmed. When his feet are clear, we give one last yank and he sprawls on top of us, knocking us to the earth, where we lie panting and laughing weakly.

After about a minute, without discussing it, we get up and crawl forward, eager to check out the hole that Bill-E has uncovered. It’s a black chasm. Impossible to see very far down it. The light’s too poor.

“Wait here,” Bill-E says, scrabbling up to the surface. He returns swiftly, a baseball cap on his head, two small torches strapped to either side. “Spent half an hour last night fixing this up,” he says proudly, then holds up a bigger, stronger torch. “I brought this too. Been lugging it around all day. Just in case.”

“Spleen, you’re a genius,” Loch says and Bill-E smiles. “A fat, deformed simpleton, but also a genius,” he adds and Bill-E’s smile turns to a scowl.

“Why don’t you take one of the lights off the hat?” I suggest. “Then we can all have one.”

“No,” Bill-E says. “They’re not powerful enough by themselves. You need the two together for them to be worth anything.” He brushes by us, justifiably smug, taking temporary leadership. He crouches by the edge of the hole he made and flicks on the strong torch. Loch and I crouch by him and stare. The hole continues down as far as we can see, at a slight angle, lots of little stones jutting out of the main rock face, plenty of niches for hands and feet.

“Bloody hell!” Loch gasps. “It’s massive.”

“There’s no way Lord Sheftree could have dug this,” Bill-E notes. “He might have widened the entrance to make it easier to get to this point, but the rest of it’s natural.”

“How far down do you think it runs?” I ask.

“Only one way to find out,” Bill-E grins.

“You’ve got to be joking!” Loch snorts.

“What?” Bill-E frowns. “You’re not coming with me?”

“We can’t go down there,” I mutter, taking Loch’s side. “Not without proper climbing boots, ropes, those metal pegs with the loops that climbers use… all that sort of gear.”

“It doesn’t look so difficult,” Bill-E argues. “I say we try it and go as far as we can. If we run into difficulties, we’ll come back later with climbing equipment.”

“Why risk it?” I press. “Let’s wait until the weekend, stock up, then—”

“You ever used any of that stuff before?” Loch asks. “Boots, ropes and so on?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Me neither,” he interrupts. “Spleenio?” Bill-E shakes his head. “If we’re going to do that, we need to practise,” Loch says slowly.

“So we practise. It means a delay, but—”

“What if someone comes along in the meanwhile, finds this and claims it for their own?” Loch cuts in.

I glare at him. “I hate the way you set out on one side of an argument, then talk your way completely round to the other side.”

Loch laughs. “You’re too conservative, Grubbs. I share your concerns for our safety, but the Spleenster’s right. If we take it easy, advance cautiously, stop if we feel it would be dangerous to go on…”

“What if the batteries in the torches die while we’re down there?” I ask stiffly, fighting a losing battle but determined not to give in gracefully.

“I replaced them last night,” Bill-E says. “They’re all fresh.”

“Genius,” Loch murmurs, then grins at me. “It can’t be that deep—old Sheftree needed to be able to get up and down with his cases of treasure. The angle’s not too steep. And there are loads of toe- and finger-holds.”

“Let’s try, Grubbs,” Bill-E whispers. “We won’t do anything foolish. You can call it off if you think things look dicey. We’ll follow your lead. Promise.”

I hesitate and check the time. Glance up to where the moon will soon be appearing. I place my right hand on the rocky floor, feeling for vibrations, but there aren’t any. I think of all the dangers— then of the treasure, if it’s there, if I’m wrong, if this isn’t a place of magic, if I’ve been imagining hidden perils.

A deep breath. A snap decision. I grab the big torch from Bill-E. “Let’s go.”

THE CAVE

Descending slowly, testing each foothold firmly before settling my weight on it. Coming down three abreast, me in the middle, Loch on the left, Bill-E on the right. Loch complains several times about not having a light of his own, but Bill-E refuses to relinquish either of his torches. I’ve been to his house. I know that Ma and Pa Spleen keep several torches around the place, ever fearful of power cuts, determined never to be left stranded in the dark. He could have easily brought another torch for Loch. A mistake or intentional oversight? I don’t enquire.

It’s stuffy down here, warmer than I imagined. The air’s not so bad though. I thought it would be stale and thin, but there’s a good supply of it. Easy to breathe.

Part of me knows this is madness. It screams from the back of my head, reminding me of what happened last night, the face, the whispers, the throbbing today. It wants me to assert myself, demand we make for the surface, tell Dervish, leave all this for experienced potholers to explore.

But a larger part thinks it’s thrilling. We’re the first humans to come down here in decades. In fact, if the others are wrong and this wasn’t used by Lord Sheftree, maybe we’re the first people to ever find it. Maybe it will turn out to be an amazing geographical feature and we’ll get to name it and be on the news. Reni would really dig being a celebrity’s girlfriend.

You’re an idiot, the cautious part of me huffs with disgust.

“Put a sock in it,” I grunt back.

I lose track of time pretty quickly. Have we been down here ten minutes? Twenty? The hands of my watch are luminous, so I could check. But I’m not going to start fiddling around in the dark, rolling up my sleeves, leaning forward to squint. I’m keeping both hands on the rock face and all my senses focused on the climb.

I go carefully, one hold at a time. Foot-hand-foot-hand-foot-hand-foot. Bill-E and Loch are the same. We don’t speak. My torch hangs from my right wrist by a strap. The light bounces off the rocks. I’d have to stop, turn around, lean back and point the light down to get a clear view of what lies beneath. But I’m not going to do that. I’m taking no chances. The thought of slipping… sliding… tumbling into the unknown…