by N Williams
Something caught in the light from his helmet, something white. Zac bent down to get a closer look. It was a small sheet of paper - a diagram. Looking closer, he could see it was a drawing of the cave he was standing in. Just ahead there were two tunnels marked. One was marked with a route line drawn along it whilst the other, a much shorter route, was marked with the words “LONG CRAWL.”
It took Zac several minutes to reach the junction marked on the map. This was not what he wanted, but there was nothing else he could do if he wanted to catch the others, or even get ahead of them. He forced himself to breathe slowly. The tunnel was no more than just an oversized rugby ball in shape, eighteen inches or so at the highest point and a little over three feet at the widest. Thankfully, all sides of the passage had been washed smooth over millennia.
Zac checked his helmet light and tied his backpack to his left leg to drag it behind him.
‘You sure you want to do this?’
Zac jumped, his helmet hitting the overhanging outcrop of rock. ‘Shit! What the fuck are you doing here?’
Sally stood defiant, hands on hips. ‘I told you, I’m just as much a part of this team as you. You’re not leaving me behind.’
‘Shit! I can’t do this with you here. It’s too risky, Sal.’
‘I’m a big girl, Zac, and anyway, you might need some help. So, can you do this?’
He wasn’t sure, not one bit. Things had gone dreadfully wrong the last time he’d crawled through something like this, and his friends had died, something he had struggled with for the past thirty-five years. Now he was back underground, having to face the nightmare that had haunted him all those years. ‘I’ve got to do it. You can’t, you’ll have to go back to the castle and wait for me. You’ve got to lead the police team to us, okay?’
Sally nodded her head but didn’t convince Zac.
‘Either I go now, or they’ll get there before me. We can’t let them win, Sal.’
Sally patted Zac on the shoulder as he entered the horrendously tight passage. ‘Be careful.’
‘I fucking intend to,’ Zac called back, his backpack and boots disappearing from sight.
The tunnel was tighter than anything Zac had ever encountered, even smaller than he remembered the Long Crawl in the Dan-Yr-Ogof cave many years before. It could be that he was a lot bigger than he had been then, having bulked up since his teens.
Right arm extended and left arm at his side he shuffled along, boots jammed into the apex of the sides for purchase. Thankfully, the tunnel was mainly straight with a few shallow bends every now and again. Each time he pushed with his feet his bottom would thump against the roof, but he quickly got into a rhythm, a pretty good version of the worm. He fought to contain the ever-present sense of panic. He had to stay focused, to concentrate on the task and not to think of the millions of tons of solid rock above him.
Shit!
The more he tried to cut out the thoughts the more determined they seemed to be acknowledged.
Shit! Slow breaths!
Zac stopped as the passage began a tight turn to the left. He dragged his feet up as far as they would go and inched around the bend. The tunnel then took a sharp turn to the right. This was going to be tricky. Zac twisted in the tunnel, arching his back to pull himself around by digging his fingers into the smooth water-formed cracks in the sides of the tunnel. He was stuck. His backpack was jammed behind him.
Thoughts of his friends dying in a similar tunnel all those years ago, and being stuck behind him, threatened to tip him over the edge. The sense of panic he felt back then began to recur. He had to stay focused. He had been the only one to survive, pulled from the cave two days after the devastating flood and saved by the wetsuit and the pack of supplies he’d recovered from the lifeless body of his friend Chris.
Zac kicked at the pack with his left leg. It moved a little into the middle of the passage. Another kick and the pack came free. Zac sighed and lay still for a moment. This was his worse nightmare. He had to go on. There was definitely no going back. He suddenly wondered if the tunnel was clear ahead. If the rainwater had brought down some stones, then he might be stuck there - forever.
Zac shouted. ‘No!’ The sound of his own voice seemed to spur him on. It was company in this soul-destroying place.
Keeping his eyes on the ground ahead of him, Zac pushed through, driven on by the thoughts of those terrible events many years ago, fighting the urge to panic. The floor suddenly stopped, blocked by a wall rising up above his head. But it was what he saw crammed into the small space ahead that made him want to scream. There, ahead of him, were the decayed remains of two people, jammed into the passage like two piles of discarded rubbish.
Zac shone his light over the figures and he realised that for the first time in thirty years he was looking at the coveralls and rotted cadavers of Hywel Jones and Trudy Wilson, his two friends lost to the flood so long ago. Zac shook his head and mouthed a silent apology. He knew their deaths hadn’t been his fault, but he still felt guilty for surviving when they had lost their lives. There was nothing he could do other than clamber over the bodies of his former friends and carry on. Trudy’s body had become entangled with that of Hywel. Thirty-odd years of decay and powerful winter floods had stripped both bodies to a mess of bones. Only the few shreds of cloth and the helmets still attached to the skulls convinced Zac that these were the remains of his friends.
Zac carefully squeezed over the extended legs and huddled over the upper bodies that had somehow come to rest in a sitting position at the bottom of the chimney. He shone the light up through the deluge. Water was pouring from the top, and it was impossible to see through the heavy shower. If he ever got out of here he’d ensure their remains were recovered and buried, as they should have been decades ago. Pulling himself into the corner, he drew his feet up tight under himself and managed to stand. Feeling above him he found the water inlet - a ledge at arm’s length above him. Zac took a deep breath and jumped. He was still a foot short of the ledge above. He knew what he had to do but already hated himself for thinking it. He bent over the bodies and propped them a little further up the back wall of the chimney. He counted to three then raised his right foot above the helmet attached to Hywel’s skull. He knew he had to be quick, the bones would probably collapse under his weight. He had one chance to escape. Tucking his head into his chest, he took a deep breath from the air sheltered beneath his helmet and jumped as high as he could. As expected, his boot began to fall away as the bones beneath it started to crack, but the macabre stepladder held just long enough for him to get a firm grip on the ledge above. Pulling himself up and clear of the falling water, he quickly flopped into the feeder tunnel to find another excruciatingly tight crawl washed smooth by tens of thousands of years of rainwater.
The thought suddenly struck him that if the tunnel got any tighter he’d be well and truly stuck, just like his friends had been for all those years. Because the map showed a route through, didn’t necessarily mean it would be suitable for him. All the dedicated cavers he had ever known were lithe - something he couldn’t claim to be himself anymore.
Wedging his elbows into the sides of the tunnel and wriggling his knees, Zac moved forward slowly. The rushing water was just a few millimetres below his chin as his helmet scraped along the gently arching ceiling. If the water got any higher, he’d be a goner.
Picking up speed, his progress improved slightly, but he knew he had to get out soon. Stopping for a moment, he checked the map against the diagram on his phone, grateful for the waterproof cover he had bought whilst on a wet and windy weekend break in North Wales just weeks earlier. It suddenly dawned on him that the bodies of his friends must have been moving slowly through the cave over time. This passage had been surveyed in the eighties. If the bodies had been found at that time they would have been recovered.
The diagram showed promise. If it was accurate, and they generally were, the crawl should be ending at a large chamber just ahead. There was something strange about the drawing. Th
e crawl appeared to terminate somewhere in the centre of the chamber, but Zac knew that couldn’t be correct. He pushed on again past an adjoining water outlet. From here the water rushed out in both directions - towards Zac and also in the direction in which he was travelling. The point where it entered the tunnel was a tumult of bubbling foam. He knew he had to get through it quickly. The crawl was now full of water at this point before it ran off in both directions.
Taking a deep breath, he shuffled through as fast as he could, the force of the water pushing against him. Then it eased suddenly, and he realised he had passed the water outlet. Now the water was pushing him forward down the tunnel towards the chamber marked on the plan. His speed gathered quickly as he tried to control it by jamming his feet into the sides. His hands were rubbing against the walls. In the bouncing light from his helmet, he could see the tint of blood washed away from the scrapes to his fingers and palms.
Then something began to make sense. The surveyor’s drawing became clear in his mind, and he began to push his hands and feet into the walls of the tunnel to slow his progress. The realisation that the crawl was ending in the ceiling of the chamber was confirmed as he suddenly plummeted down into space. The ear splitting sound of automatic gunfire echoed as he tumbled towards the floor.
CHAPTER 64
The two captives led the way, conscious of the automatic weapons pointing at their backs. Bourse brought up the rear, checking the diagram of the cave system on the iPhone, glad he’d made the decision to make a copy of the map since he’d lost the original somewhere in the cave.
For a big man like Gates, it felt like they had walked for hours, but he knew it was only twenty minutes or so since he had been captured. His back was aching, and his neck felt like it had locked into an unnatural angle. ‘Can we take a breather?’ he gasped, feigning fatigue.
‘Keep moving,’ shouted Bourse.
There was no way he could get one over on the thugs without getting close to one of them, and it didn’t look like they would let that happen.
The passageway began to rise again. The constant stream of water cutting through the middle of the tunnel had continued to rise also, and Gates was getting nervous. If it continued at this rate they’d be swamped pretty soon. He stopped suddenly, and Farrell bumped into his back.
‘Look, we need to get out of here, or we’ll be swimming along here soon,’ he shouted.
‘Shut your fucking mouth,’ screamed Bourse. ‘Stop again and I’ll blow your fucking brains out.’
‘Just trying to warn you...’
Gates stumbled up through the force of the oncoming water and reached a pair of tunnels aligned like the barrels of a shotgun. Most of the water was surging out of the right-hand tunnel entrance, whilst the tunnel on the left was slightly higher and comparatively dry.
‘Take the left one,’ Bourse shouted, checking the diagram once more.
‘Thank God for small mercies,’ breathed Gates as he led the way again. Just twenty metres into the tunnel the roof started to rise, and the walls began to open up into a large chamber. Hanging from the ceiling was an enormous colourful curtain stalactite resembling a rasher of bacon. ‘At least lunch is taken care of,’ Gates joked.
‘Prefer Quorn myself,’ grinned Farrell.
‘Okay, stop there.’ Bourse pushed past his partner in crime and stood below the big curtain. ‘It should be here. This is where it’s marked on the plan.’ He handed the phone to Tourrain.
‘Well, where is it then?’
‘Fuck it!’ Tourrain exploded.
Farrell held up his hand. ‘Looks like we’ve been done.’ He pointed to the only other route into the chamber - a vertical shaft in the roof from which a heavy shower of water fell into a deep pea-green coloured pool below. ‘There’s no place else it could be.’
‘I can fucking see that,’ Tourrain growled. ‘What now, Fred?
Fredrick Bourse cocked his MP5 and pointed it at Farrell. ‘Can’t let these two go.’
‘Shit!’ Farrell shouted. ‘No. Don’t. I’m on your side. I don’t want the relics getting into Stockwell’s hands. That’s why I’ve helped you.’
Gates looked astonished. This was unexpected. His brain began working overtime, searching for some way to escape.
Bourse grinned then let a short burst of the weapon stitch a line of holes through Farrell’s chest. The man fell to his knees as the dark shape of a figure falling from the roof took them all by surprise. The figure splashed into the pool, spraying water over the three men. Gates took the split-second distraction to leap at the big man as he began to turn his weapon towards him. He hit Bourse hard in the chest, pushing the gun up into the air as another burst of fire erupted from the muzzle. Bourse lost his balance and stumbled backwards into his colleague. All three fell hard onto the cave floor.
*
Hitting the pool on his back, Zac felt the jarring pain shoot through his pelvis and up the entire length of his spine. A silent prayer was all he could manage as he sank to the bottom of the pool. He was afraid to move. The fall would have aggravated the old injury he sustained underground all those years ago - an injury he had hidden from the police for thirty years and one that he still had to manage through the constant use of painkillers.
Zac gently nudged the floor of the pool with his feet; another brief stab of pain. Whatever the extent of his injuries, he had to get to the surface. The flickering lights in the cavern above suggested he wasn’t alone. Tentatively, he kicked up from the floor. All his body parts seemed to be in working order. Stroking for the surface, he broke through into the chamber and scrambled over rocks to find two big men struggling on the floor. Another big man jumped back from the edge of the pool as Zac sprung from the water and fell back against a large rock, whilst another figure lay prone and looked like he wouldn’t be walking out of the cave ever again. One of the three big men was someone he knew considerably better than the others.
Zac bounced over the rocks and planted a boot into the side of Bourse’s head, a kick that would normally have left most people out for the count. Not Bourse. The big man shook his head but released his grip on Gates. Grabbing Gates by the shoulders, Zac pulled him to his feet, the pain in his back flaring briefly once more.
*
Gates couldn’t believe his eyes. ‘Quite one for the dramatic entrance, aren’t you,’ he shouted as Zac pushed him away from the two semi-conscious thugs. ‘Hold on,’ Gates shouted as he turned and aimed a well-placed shoe into the side of Bourse’s head. This time Bourse felt the full weight of the big man’s kick but still managed to stay conscious.
The two friends ran down the slope of the tunnel as fast as they could. The kick had been a good one but the big thug was clearly more resilient than Gates had expected. The two killers could be heard over the roar of water, swearing as they recovered and began the chase.
Gates reached the end of the tunnel and plunged into the fast-moving stream rushing from his right, swiftly followed by Zac.
Stumbling, he kicked and rolled with the floor, desperate to put more distance between himself and the pursuers. Shots echoed through the cave as the water erupted in plumes around him. Gates felt a sharp pain in his side as he ducked under the surface and let the water carry him towards the edge of a waterfall.
His injured side sent sharp shocks of pain through his body as he tumbled over the rocks and was launched into the air. He let out a gurgling yell to accompany that of his friend as he tumbled down and landed in the pool below. For once Gates was grateful the cave was flooding; the extra water had created a deep pool and cushioned his fall. He dragged himself up onto a large boulder and quickly checked the injury. A bright red stain covered his shirt. He gingerly pulled the material from the wound. A small furrow in his skin was testament to how close one of the rounds had come to doing some serious damage.
He looked for Zac and saw the helmet light just below the surface within arm’s reach. He grabbed his friend and pulled him clear.
‘Jesus.
This place is better than Oakwood Park,’ Zac gasped.
Gates heard the shouts of the two big men above as they hurtled along the tunnel towards the waterfall towering over them.
It was time to go.
The two friends dashed through the tunnel and found their way back to the iron ladder leading up into the castle. They quickly scaled the slippery rungs as the sound of running footsteps splashed ever nearer.
Zac followed Gates out through the altar and stopped. The sound of automatic rifles being cocked was unmistakable.
CHAPTER 65
‘Well, well. What do we have here then?’ said one of the heavily armed team.
Gates sat on the floor surrounded by men in black coveralls with the white word POLICE emblazoned across the chest. ‘I think you would be advised to block that thing off,’ he said firmly, pointing to the altar.
Zac nodded to the hole, his hands in the air, not wanting to be mistaken for a bad guy. ‘Two big nasty bastards just killed the manager of this place and are just about to stick their ugly heads through the hole.’
As if on cue, the bald head of Bourse popped up through the altar and was followed by a wild burst of shots from his MP5.
‘Shit! Down lads!’ the team leader shouted. ‘Get something to block that thing off.’
Two police officers slung their weapons behind their backs and pulled a large metal wine rack from the adjoining room. Two other officers crept up to the altar and let off some shots into the darkness below. They dropped the wooden cover onto the altar as the two with the wine rack scraped it across the floor, quickly tipping it forward and hoisting it into place on the board.
‘That’ll hold the bastards. Is there another way out?’
Zac remembered where he’d seen the senior officer before - up on the mountain in Penwyllt, at Ben’s murder scene.
‘Don’t know. Don’t think so,’ Zac replied. This was the Detective Inspector...what was his name? ‘But you’ll have to do something about them sooner or later.’
