The Cavern Read online

  “I thought it would have been full of spider webs and crap,” he said.

  Frida put some of the moss she’d been studying into a small plastic bag, then straightened. “I agree. It does seem odd, and there’s little sign of other small animals like rodents or bats.”

  “Hey, if that means no guano for me to crawl through, then I’m a happy girl.” Ellie twisted on her helmet light and set off down the passage.

  Frida shrugged as she followed. “She’s right. It won’t be anything to worry about. Just means there’s something bigger in here keeping their numbers down. Probably a nice fat carpet python sleeping off a feed somewhere.”

  Sam wasn’t worried about snakes, having come across plenty on rock climbing trips in the bush. Anyway, with the noise they were making, any snake would have scarpered long ago. He was about to follow when a light clicking noise came from behind. Sam looked back in the direction of the sound, to the other smaller tunnel branching away from the main shaft.

  At the furthest reach of his torch light, the face of a small boy stared back.

  ***

  Aaron checked his watch again, clenched his jaw in irritation at the time and began tapping his fingers on the table in a rolling drum. After turning up to the council building at the exact time requested, the receptionist had led him to a small office and left him behind. That was an hour ago and counting.

  Three walls of the small room were constructed of clear glass panels, giving a view into the surrounding workspaces. The one brick wall had a window to the outside street centred like a target in the middle. The surrounding offices were hardly a buzzing hive of activity. In the space of time he’d been sitting, he’d seen less than a handful of people amble through, none of them looking under any form of stress, which only served to irritate him further.

  Just as he was about to return to the front of the building and hassle the receptionist about the wait, he heard the door handle turn. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a middle-aged woman. Straight brown hair was pulled into a severe pony tail at the base of her skull, while she wore a simple blue shirt above tailored slacks. She issued a perfunctory greeting as she circled the table, smile failing to reach her eyes as she took a seat opposite.

  “Mr. Aaron Partet?”

  Aaron nodded, lips thin despite trying to keep outward signs of irritation in check. “Yes, I’m here regarding access to the cave discovered on Mr. Anastas’ land.”

  “My name is Karen, but feel free to call me Kaz,” she said. “I apologise for the delay to your expedition, however, I’m sure you understand the council needs to ensure all relevant steps have been taken to ensure safety prior to allowing such an activity to take place.”

  Aaron forced himself to relax his facial muscles and display an open demeanour. No matter how annoyed he was at the situation, he needed the council’s obstruction removed, and if that meant being polite and jumping a few more hurdles so that this small-time council worker could justify her existence, he’d do it.

  “I totally understand and agree that safety is of the utmost importance to my caving group as well.”

  “I’ve reviewed copies of the paperwork you submitted yesterday to our receptionist, Liz, and I’m happy to see that everything is in order. If I’m honest, today was more to gain a feel of your professionalism.” Kaz steepled her fingers, pausing as if choosing her next words carefully. “As you would have seen, Pintalba is in somewhat of an economic flat point, and these caves represent a possible source of revenue for the town. I want them mapped properly and opened to the wider caving community, but,” she paused, standing from the table to look through the window, “if the caves prove too dangerous, then I will do everything in my power to close them down and seal off access for the foreseeable future. No amount of money is worth a loss of life.”

  “I can assure you, Kaz,” said Aaron. “My team is of the highest professionalism. We have paramedic support, along with cutting edge technology to map the interior. If anyone can get the job done, it’s us.”

  A hard grin cut across the councillor’s face. “I think you’ve won me over, Mr. Partet. If you sign a waiver of liability to the council of Pintalba, I think we’re done here.”

  Aaron felt elation surge at her words as he looked down at the form she slid across the table. With barely a cursory glance, he scrawled his signature across the base. Anything to get out of there and on with the expedition.

  Kaz picked up the paper and tucked it beneath the copies of his other paperwork and out of sight. “Good luck Mr. Partet. I hope you find something down there that’s remarkable enough to change your life forever.”

  ***

  Sam blinked a few times then stared again. Nothing. Just empty black. Had he really seen a child’s face a few moments ago? A cold shiver worked up his spine, and he cursed himself for suggesting the ghost tour the night before. McClean had obviously been an expert story teller.

  Sam turned his back and hurried after the girls. The tunnel tracked steadily downward at an almost imperceptible angle. Occasionally they came across old work items, some recognisable, others rusted to a point of obscurity. Frida stopped to study something on the side of the tunnel while Ellie and Sam squeezed past behind her and continued on another twenty paces to an irregularity on the floor.

  Five paces ahead, the ground disappeared into a black void. Gingerly, he stepped forward, nervous that the ground might shift under his feet. Ellie joined him, leaning forward to see the hole better.

  “It should be stable enough on our side. The far side’s another matter,” she said.

  Ahead, the tunnel had little more than a foot of rock separating it from a cave underneath. The clear space of the cave sloped away in a wedge shape, opening into a larger void.

  “Do you think that might join up with the cave on the farm?” asked Sam.

  A light movement of air coming up from the hole ruffled a length of Ellie’s hair by her face. “There’d be a good chance. We can’t be more than a few kilometres as the crow flies from Anastas’ property.” She paused for a second, squatted and peered into the void before turning off her head torch. “Hey, switch off your light for a second.”

  Although mildly confused, Sam complied. There was pitch black for a few moments, and then he noted a slight glow emerge from the gloom. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he could see a faint blue light deep within the cave.

  “That’s so cool,” murmured Ellie. “There must be glow worms down there.”

  “Hey guys?” said Frida from behind them. “I think you two need to check this out.”

  Both Ellie and Sam turned at the worried tone of her voice. Sam switched on his head torch again, and stared at the tunnel wall where Frida pointed. A section had been smoothed, with an inscription and bowl carved into the stone.

  “Bloody hell,” muttered Sam. “This must be one of the shrines McClean talked about last night.”

  He ran his fingers lightly over words chiselled into the rock above the bowl. Ellie was at his side, her torch illuminating the message.

  “Miner’s Mother,” she read quietly. “Accept this offering and keep us safe in the dark.”

  Sam touched a finger into the bowl, then jerked it back as if bitten. “Jesus, there’s something in it.”

  “And I don’t think it’s water,” said Frida.

  Sam brought his fingers into the light, and his stomach lurched as he saw the tips were covered in tacky, red blood. He stared back down the tunnel, to where he’d seen the face of the boy, before giving his head a shake. No, that’s not possible.

  “I thought the guide said all the mines had closed down, that no one made offerings to the Miner’s Mother anymore,” said Ellie.

  “Well someone’s been down here recently,” said Frida. “And it also explains why the mine shaft is in such good condition.”

  Sam took a step back to lean against the wall and felt something crunch underfoot. He looked down and tasted sour bile in his throat. At his feet was the carcass of
a small animal. Little remained aside from a few of the larger bones.

  “Looks like you found the sacrifice.” Frida knelt down and picked up the skull to examine it more closely. “I could be wrong, but it looks like it’s from a small ruminant, probably a lamb.” She turned it about, studying each surface. She pointed at a set of evenly spaced grooves down the back of the cranium. “You reckon these are from teeth, or a knife tip?”

  Sam felt about ready to leave. “No idea, but either way, it’s fucked up,” he muttered. “I think we’re going to have to talk to the police. They’re going to want to know if there’s a sick bastard torturing small animals in the dark - that’s how bloody serial murderers start.”

  “Oww!” yelped Frida. She dropped the skull onto the ground. “Something on it freaking bit me!”

  Ellie trained her torch onto Frida’s hand where a leech had clamped onto the end of her middle finger. A sinuous black body pulsated as it sucked blood from her skin. Frida grabbed onto it with her other hand and wrenched backwards. For a moment, it looked like it would tear in half rather than disengage, then with a slight popping noise, the mouth came free. With a grimace, she dropped the writhing creature into a snap lock bag before sucking on the bleeding fingertip. She passed another larger plastic bag to Sam to collect the skull.

  “I’ve had a gut full of this mine,” said Frida with a grimace. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam lifted the clear plastic bag containing the lamb skull up before his face, examining its features with revolted fascination. It reminded him of the time as a boy when he’d poked the rotting body of a dead mouse, only to see the abdomen writhe as maggots crawled beneath the skin. There were no maggots this time around, but the non-uniform pattern in which flesh had been stripped from the bone held an equal interest. All tissue of the scalp, ears and cheeks was gnawed back to the bone. Inside the jaw, the tongue was torn off at the root, however, mucosa was still present on the roof of the palate and around the teeth bases. Empty eye-sockets stared balefully during his examination, silent.

  “Will you put that thing away?” said Ellie. “It’s seriously grossing me out.”

  Sam placed the bag at his side on the bench seat. They were both sitting in the waiting room of the Pintalba police station, awaiting an interview with the town’s one Sergeant. A young man called Constable Brown, who looked barely out of high school, had taken their details and asked them to wait. Frida had subsequently taken the smart option, electing to go back to the hotel to examine the leech and moss she’d taken from the mine shaft under magnification.

  Now that they were out of the mine’s depths, the discomfort he’d experienced seemed far away. “Do you think we’re wasting their time with this?”

  “Come on, Sam. You saw that altar just the same as me. If someone’s making pagan sacrifices, the cops are going to want to know.”

  Constable Brown walked back into the room, clipboard in hand. “The Sergeant will see you now.”

  Ellie gave him a ‘I told you so’ look. The Constable showed them into a small office where the Sergeant awaited them. The space was simply furnished with a wooden desk, book case and two filing cabinets.

  The policeman stood and extended a hand in welcome. “I’m Sergeant Trevor Jones.”

  Sam accepted the handshake before taking a seat and resting the skull on the table. Metal squealed on the concrete floor as Ellie drew her chair back and took a seat at his side.

  “My Constable told me you have concerns about pagan sacrifice?”

  Sam winced. From the poor job the police officer was doing at suppressing a derisive smile, he obviously thought the whole thing was ridiculous. “Well, we can’t be sure that was what happened,” started Sam hesitantly. “But what we found was exceedingly odd, and we’ve struggled to come up with another reason to explain it.”

  “Explain what? All you have is part of a carcass, probably from a fox’s kill.”

  “No, it’s not just that. There was an altar carved in the rock face, dedicated to the ‘Miner’s Mother’, with fresh blood in a sacrificial bowl.” Sam paused for a second and glanced at Ellie. She nodded him encouragement to continue.

  “We heard about an old custom of miners in the area, where they would leave blood offerings. One of our group is a biologist, and she seemed to think the skull was from a lamb. If someone’s killing infant animals as a sacrifice, wouldn’t you want to know?”

  The Sergeant let out a short snort of laughter. “You went on one of those ridiculous tours led by Dermot McClean, didn’t you?”

  Sam and Ellie gave a small nod in unison.

  “Look, Dermot tells a good story. It’s in his blood, you might say. His father and grandfather were both priests in the local church, spent their lives railing against the supernatural and mining folklore. Now, instead of telling stories from the pulpit like his old man, he scares tourists for fun. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

  “But there was a shrine with fresh blood in the bowl,” said Ellie, jaw hardened. “We’re not fools. If you think a fox is responsible, can you explain how it managed to pour fresh blood into a stone bowl one metre above the ground?”

  The sergeant shrugged. “I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how nimble a fox can be.” He stood, shoving his chair back to signify the meeting was over. “Look, if it makes you happy, I’ll take a drive and check it out.”

  Sam went to pick up the plastic bag and skull, but the sergeant placed his hand over it. “How about I keep hold of this. I don’t want the whole town becoming hysterical about nothing.

  “I appreciate you both dropping by, but in future, I’d recommend you stay out of the mines around here. I heard on the grapevine you now have approval to explore the cave on Anastas’ property – my advice would be to stick to that. Plenty out there to sink your teeth into.”

  Trevor waited for the couple to leave his office, careful to keep an expression of disinterest. Once out of sight he looked at the skull in his hand, tracing with one finger over the grooves cut into the bone. A shadow crossed the doorway of his office and he looked up to find Constable Brown standing awkwardly in the corridor.

  “Don’t stand there like a fucking Muppet. If you’ve got a question, bloody ask it,” muttered Trevor.

  The Constable edged into the room. “What did you think about their story? Is there anything to it?”

  Trevor barked a laugh. “Not likely. If there was a serial killer or some freaky cult in my town, I’d know about it.” He tossed the lamb’s skull into the bin beside the desk. “It was a fox’s kill they found, nothing more.”

  “But there’s been two missing person reports in the last week. What if we should be initiating a murder investigation?”

  Trevor’s smile hardened. He didn’t like being questioned by a subordinate officer, especially one half his bloody age. “There’s nothing to investigate. Of your so-called murders, Brooke Smith’s been talking about leaving Pintalba for years. My guess is that she couldn’t bring herself to dump that pathetic fool she’s dating, and just quit town for the city. And the teenager, Warwick Carmichael, he finally got sick of his old man beating him up every other week. The kid probably hitchhiked to a better life. If there was something to find, I would’ve found it by now.”

  “But Sarge, at the academy, they told us trust our gut instinct, and…”

  “Instinct? For fuck’s sake Brown, you’ve been a police officer for two bloody months. You don’t have any instincts yet. So, until you’ve racked up a couple of decades in the force like me, you can shut up and do as you’re told.”

  The Constable bolted without another word, leaving his Sergeant to close the door firmly behind him. Trevor rubbed a hand irritably over his face at the situation. What had he been reduced to? Bullying junior officers, and deliberately obstructing police investigations.

  He turned a key in the door’s lock to ensure his Constable couldn’t interrupt him again, then extracted a folded town
map from the filing cabinet and spread it on the table. On the map were a series of black crosses with names written by their sides, denoting missing persons from back in the seventies when the creature had last been active. Trevor had scoured the old police database, compiling a list of people that had gone missing at the time, and where they had last been seen. Including his father and little brother, a total of ten people disappeared before the beast went dormant.

  There were also three red crosses, noting recent abductions. Two at Anastas’ farm belonging to the initial cavers, and one in town. He marked down two more crosses in red, and added Brooke and Warwick’s names to the list of missing.

  That left five more kills until the beast reached the same total as the last time it had been active, a number that would likely be reached once the caving group descended underground. A cold shiver worked up his spine as he thought of the Miner’s Mother. He’d done his bit alongside his sister over the years, continuing the miners’ tradition of blood tithes and sacrifices to satisfy the creature. And it had all been in vain, as the new missing person reports proved.

  Initially he’d wanted to try and kill it himself, but Kaz had argued against the risk. She thought the Miner’s Mother would enter hibernation again once it achieved the same number of kills as in the seventies, and he’d allowed himself to be convinced. Fight a shape changing demon, or let a few strangers fill the meal ticket? He’d let his fear make the decision for him, and all it had cost him was his own self-respect.

  “You better be right, Kaz,” he whispered. “You better be fucking right.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The muscles in Sam’s back ached as he hoisted himself up onto one of the bar stools at the Pintalba Hotel. Outside the windows to the main road, night had fallen, erasing light like a drop sheet except for tiny pools of illumination at the base of an occasional light pole.