The Cavern Page 12

  “How long do you want to be under for this one, Max?”

  “It might be our only dive, so I vote we make the most of it and use the rule of thirds. Once the first of us uses a third of their air supply, we start heading back. That should be more than safe.”

  Ellie nodded in agreement before turning to Sam. “Any questions?”

  He shook his head. With the dive imminent, he just wanted to get going. Sometimes you had to ignore the niggling voice of doubt, and act.

  Ellie’s serious façade cracked into a smile now they were about to go, excitement finally winning out. Giving him an ‘okay’ sign, she lowered her goggles and clamped her regulator between her teeth, Sam and Max following suit.

  Sam gave Max a few metres head start, then ducked under the water and followed using small tight kicks to avoid disturbing too much of the silt off the bottom. He glanced up as they passed into a passage leading away from the cavern. There was no reassuring layer of air above the water now if he panicked.

  He swallowed his unease, and concentrated on keeping his breathing smooth and steady. Sam reached out a hand and used a grip on the rock wall to propel himself forward, deeper into the cave.

  ***

  Frida watched her three friends submerge and swim away. The yellow cord attached to Ellie’s waist thrummed where it emerged from the water, causing expanding circular ripples to spread. She stood at the edge of the shore, hands on hips while tracking the moving torch beams beneath the water’s surface until they reached the underwater passage at the far wall and disappeared from sight. For a few minutes, a nebulous glow issued from the passage, until that too faded into darkness.

  In the open area of the cavern, there was little risk of hitting her head, so she took off her helmet and clipped it to her backpack. Frida ran a hand through her hair, the scalp feeling refreshingly cool after escaping its confines. She turned in a slow circle on the edge of the shore, shining her torch into the recesses of the cavern, its single beam now the only light source. A shiver worked its way up her spine and she wriggled her shoulders to get it out, a sense of mild unease left in its wake. Now that she was on her own, the room had a different feel. What had been awe inspiring when she was part of a group, now felt intimidating, like the room had turned its focus upon her alone.

  Frida eventually lowered her torch, feeling a little silly. There was no point inspecting every crevice and shadow like a child scared of the dark. She walked away from the lake’s edge, back to where they had stacked the belongings left by the missing cavers. Sitting on top of a pack was an expensive looking digital SLR. Frida picked it up, pressed the power button and was pleasantly surprised to find it still had power left in the battery. Pressing ‘Playback’ on the rear of the camera, the last image captured appeared on the camera’s screen, and Frida immediately recognised it as a shot of the very cavern she stood within. Whoever had taken the photo definitely had an eye for capturing a scene, the one shot managing to convey the stark grandeur of the subterranean world. Curiosity piqued, she scrolled backwards through the photos until she came across a selfie. A man and woman smiled, each with an arm around the other. They looked excited, happy, and blissfully ignorant of their fate.

  Frida turned the camera off, and carefully replaced it on top of the other gear. A dull sadness now rested in her gut as she realised she’d likely viewed the last shot of the couple ever taken. She hated to think what either would look like now after weeks underground. Bodies bloated with rot, skin discoloured and lifeless.

  She walked away from the gear, back down to the water and began to potter along the edge of the lake, humming a tuneless song to block her thoughts. Her single torch projected a narrow beam in the pool of darkness surrounding.

  Something caught her attention off the surface of a rock and she squatted down for a closer look. A green fuzz of growth covered a palm sized segment. Hair like stalks stood erect from its surface, each one topped by a tiny ball of translucent fluid. Frida extracted her pocket knife from a pouch on her waistband and unfolded it. She poked the tip of her knife into the plant, then paused, her breath catching at the change prompted by contact with the blade. The hair-like tendrils covering its surface contracted at the point of contact, and suddenly the drops of fluid topping each one began to emit a blue light. Fascinated, she gently touched the tip of her index finger against a different segment of the plant to see if could make another section glow. The fluid on the ends of the hairs was sticky, and as she rubbed the pad of her finger against her thumb, it began to burn.

  Hissing through her teeth at the escalating pain, she quickly walked to the lake’s edge and started to wash the substance off her fingers. After a few moments in the water, the pain began to lessen. She returned to the plant, now properly intrigued. It was a carnivorous species, likely attracting small insects to its surface with the light, where they would stick to the fluid covered tendrils, be dissolved and consumed.

  Careful not to make skin contact this time, she scraped a segment of the plant away from the rock and dropped it into a plastic clip-lock bag to study later, quietly confident that the organism was another new species. With the specimen secured safely in her backpack, she stood and turned on the spot, looking for the next item of interest to explore.

  Absently, she began to itch the skin of her index finger. Instead of relieving the sensation, the itch worsened, drawing her attention properly. Frida studied her hand, and noted with some concern that red welts were starting to rise along her fingers. Whatever the plant was, she appeared to be allergic to it. The last thing she needed was to have an anaphylactic reaction while she was on her own. She was about to shrug her pack off her shoulders to search for an antihistamine when a splash sounded on the far side of the cavern.

  Frida spun about, heart hammering with surprise at the sound. She aimed her torch across the water towards where the noise had come from, and saw wide circles on the surface, emanating for a location near the far wall. Something large had landed in the water. She angled her beam upward, looking for where a possible section of stalactite might have broken away.

  A series of clicks sounded from further along the shore.

  Hairs prickled upright along her forearms and on the back of her neck. Hesitantly, she changed direction with her torch, back to the shore. There were wet footprints in the dust, but they weren’t human shaped. Too narrow, and where the toes should have been were knife like slashes of a claw. Her hand shook, a low moan of fear escaping her lips as she followed the footprints with her torch.

  Something black was bent over the packs the divers had left behind, sniffing. Frida’s breath caught, chest suddenly constricted. She flinched backward in shock and lost her grip of the torch. As it hit the stone ground, the light blinked out, plunging the room into absolute darkness. A series of clicks sounded followed by a low animalistic snarl.

  Frida screamed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aaron took a few slow breaths and willed his nausea to subside. His skin was pale and a sheen of sweat that had nothing to do with the heat topside oozed from his forehead. Sitting on a canvas chair in the base-camp tent, he stared at the wound of his ankle, nose wrinkled in disgust at the clotted mess.

  “Who coughed up the cash for access, and then spent hours kowtowing to the council?” muttered Aaron. “I did. And now I’m the only one to miss out. What a fucking joke.”

  A dressing hung from the back of his ankle in a sodden mass of blood, still partially attached to the base of the wound. During his climb up the ladder from the pit, the wound had started to bleed again, and by the time he’d reached the top, the dressing had maxed out its absorbency. He’d had no choice but to change it, or leave a trail of blood around the tent. The current dressing change would be the tenth since leaving the cave. The way it bled at any disturbance had him worried the slug had injected him with some sort of anticoagulant.

  Only one more wrench was needed to detach the gauze from the base of the wound, but that was easier
said than done. The gauze he’d pressed into the wound on the last dressing had adhered to the base. Each tug ripped up a section of the wound, making the ooze of blood turn into a stream. He gripped the edge of the dressing, took one last breath, closed his eyes and gave a sharp tug. Aaron yelped as it finally tore free, then swore as he started dripping blood over the tent floor. He stuffed the dressing into a plastic bag, then quickly stuck a fresh one over the wound and pressed firmly to slow the bleeding, biting his lip against the pain.

  After ten minutes, Aaron slowly took his hand away, ready to clamp it on again at the first sign of fresh haemorrhage. Satisfied that it had stopped bleeding for the moment, he sat back in the chair feeling a little light headed.

  A metallic chirp of a mobile phone rang in the back of the tent. Aaron glanced over his shoulder to a pile of backpacks. Grimacing in irritation, he limped over and started sorting through the bags. Last of all was Frida’s pack where he found a phone tucked into an outside pocket, but just as he got the device to his ear, the call hung up.

  Aaron swore under his breath and sat heavily back into the chair again, phone still in hand. After a few moments, it beeped again with the notification of a voicemail. Out of bored curiosity, he dialled 101 to play the message. A stressed female voice spoke.

  “Frida? I got your sample an hour ago and it’s unlike anything I’ve seen. I mean, it’s unlike anything anybody has seen before. The usual DNA sequences of adenine, thymine, guanine and cytosine are entirely missing, making it alien to all life on earth.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the only explanation is that this creature has evolved separately, whether on our planet or somewhere else. To be honest, it scares the shit out of me. I’ve already contacted our counterparts at the CSIRO, and they’re taking it seriously. They’ve told me to advise you to withdraw from the cave system immediately.

  “Please call me back and tell me you’re okay. This thing has me seriously freaked out.”

  Aaron slowly lowered the phone from his ear. He reached down a hand, running the fingertips over the dressing on his Achilles. Had he been bitten by something… alien?

  Outside, a car engine grew in volume. Instead of continuing past, it began to gear down, grabbing Aaron’s attention. He placed the phone on the camp table, gingerly stood and limped to the entrance of the tent in time to see an old Hilux ute pull off the road. Anastas had emptied the paddock of livestock while they were in the cave, so they’d seen little need to close the gate. Now Aaron wished he’d taken a little more care as the ute drove through the gap and into the paddock, a plume of red dust rising in its wake.

  The ute skidded to a stop, barely twenty metres from the sink hole. A woman sat behind the wheel, hair pulled back in a severe pony tail that matched her expression. Aaron’s jaw clenched in confused irritation as he recognised her.

  What now?

  He’d signed her god damned forms, paid off all the right people. What the hell was the council woman doing out here?

  ***

  Frida dropped to her knees, arms splayed outward, fingers desperately searching for the torch in the dark. Clicks sounded again, louder this time.

  A snuffling breath next to her ear.

  She knew it was close enough to touch, hidden by the dark. Her chest constricted, barely able to take a breath, hands shaking. Finally, her fingers closed about the cool metal of the torch. She snatched it up and stumbled back a few steps. A treacherous rock caught her heel, sending her crashing to the ground, and winding her badly. This time though, she had a white knuckled grip about the torch.

  Frida switched it on, terrified of what she’d see. Instead of black skin, the light fell on dirty orange coveralls, tight fit around a human body. Confusion co-mingled with fear as she scrambled backwards. It didn’t make sense. Her other three mates were all diving, dressed in completely different gear. There shouldn’t be any other people in the cave system, it was impossible. Her hand shook as she angled the torch beam up to the head.

  A man peered down at her with detached curiosity, a predator examining its victim before closing for the kill. His face was a ruin. Only one eye remained, the other orbit nothing more than a ruinous cavity that wept blood over a white cheek. Despite the trauma, she recognised the face instantly. It was the man from the photos on the camera.

  A man that had been lost underground for weeks. A man that should be dead and rotted, not standing before her.

  She froze, terror locking her muscles and numbing her thoughts. Warmth flooded down Frida’s thighs, a sharp acrid tang of urine filling the air. A long pink tongue flicked out of the man’s mouth, tasting the air like a serpent. Between its lips, Frida glimpsed needle-sharp, inhuman teeth.

  Realisation dawned.

  It was a camouflage, like the fanged slug she had captured earlier. The monster’s rendition of the caver was good, but not perfect in the glare of her torch. It took a step towards her, malevolent eyes pinning her like an insect against a board. Talons clicked together in a rapid staccato, the movement drawing Frida’s gaze. Each finger was deformed at the end, tipped with a two-inch claw. The monster took a step towards her, and finally something snapped in Frida’s mind.

  She ran.

  ***

  Aaron hobbled out from the tent entrance. He grunted at a sharp pain from his Achilles, followed by a trickle of warmth as crimson soaked through the dressing.

  “Is there a problem? I thought I’d tied up any loose ends the other day?” Aaron tried to keep anger from his voice, but after his day so far, patience was a scarce commodity.

  Kaz climbed out of her twin-cab ute, stood with one elbow resting on the open door as she scanned the place for a moment before flicking her attention to Aaron. “My boss at the council has instructed me to attend the site as a supervisor. Where are the rest of your colleagues?”

  “Down in the cave. Where else would they be?” Aaron’s temper was teetering on the edge. “The expedition is about to conclude as soon as they get back within radio contact, anyway. We found belongings of the previous cavers. I called it into the police a short while ago.”

  “So you’re alone up here?” Kaz fidgeted as she spoke, her face pale.

  Aaron took a deep breath, stifling the desire to swear at the woman. It didn’t take a card shark to tell she was hiding something.

  He glanced back into the tent where Frida’s phone sat on the card table. As much as he didn’t want to believe the details of the voicemail, it wasn’t something he could afford to ignore. He glanced back at Kaz who was now standing by the side of the ute’s tray, her hand out of sight over the edge. “Of course I’m the only one up here. Look if you must stay, just give me some space. I’ve just had a call from the university that I need to attend to.”

  Aaron pointedly turned his back on her, biting his lip at the pain from his ankle as he hobbled back into the tent, his shoe giving a bloody squelch with each step. If the information from Frida’s colleague was true, he needed to get the others out of the cave. A few dead people was one thing, but animals with a foreign genetic code to every other living creature on the planet? That was something else entirely. He picked up the radio and attempted a call to his mates, but got nothing in return except static.

  “Damn it!”

  Aaron slammed the receiver down, frustrated. He chewed his bottom lip, thinking of his next move. Aaron’s gaze settled on Frida’s backpack. Her research journal! She had taken notes while examining the first critter she’d caught. Maybe that could help the other researchers in Sydney. He knelt by the pack, unzipped the top and began to hastily rummage through the contents.

  A shadow fell across him and from the corner of his eye, he saw Kaz’s boots on the tent floor behind him. Irritation finally sparked to anger. She and the council had been a continual source of obstruction and difficulty ever since they got to town.

  Aaron glanced over his shoulder at her. “I said I needed some space… what the?”

  Kaz stood with a rifle
gripped in raised hands, stock forward. Before Aaron could utter another word, she smashed the butt into his forehead, grunting with the effort. A sickening, dull thud sounded on contact, and Aaron toppled, his world turning to black.

  ***

  There was no conscious thought. Frida’s breath came in sobs of terror as she sprinted for the tunnel back to the surface. She glanced over her shoulder briefly and saw that it had dropped the camouflage for the chase. It was vaguely humanoid shaped with a powerful serpent’s tail. Water dripped from coal black skin, reflecting her torch light in tiny diamonds of rolling light. Four elliptical eyes focused on her, pupils constricted in the glare of the beam. A flap of skin flared out from either side of its face and neck like a cobra’s hood as it opened its fanged mouth and screamed, a high-pitched sound that rasped against her ear drums. Lowering its forearms to the ground, it began to run on all fours, tail whipping behind. Frida bent over as the roof descended, and suddenly she was at the squeeze. She dived forward, landing on hands and knees.

  And screamed in agony.

  Pocket knife in hand still from collecting the plant, the blade tip caught on the ground and closed with her body weight on top, chopping through the fingers of her right hand like secateurs. The digits dropped to the dirt like fat, white worms, while blood squirted from their stumps in rhythmic arterial jets.

  Whimpering, Frida crawled onwards, then was forced to her belly as she neared the centre of the squeeze. She risked a glance back past her shoulder and screamed again as she saw the monster close behind. Frida rammed herself forward with all her might. And stuck.

  She’d forgotten that she was still wearing her backpack. With it on, her torso was too wide to fit through the gap. Tears welled and she bellowed frustration and pain. Frida scrabbled ineffectually, desperately trying to drag herself forward, stubs of fingers on her right hand drawing smears of bloody tissue on the rock floor.