by Guy N Smith
Neither land nor sea rescue was likely to save that water-skier, the fool had paid the ultimate price for his stupidity. If only they had been able to detonate that explosive device and seal the cave before the full strength of the Terror from the West had struck this coastline.
14
‘Well,’ Sanderson stared out of the window at the rain, saw that it had eased somewhat. He glanced round at his companions, Danielson, a couple of soldiers and a coastguard. ‘I guess we’ll…’
At that moment his mobile phone rang. As he listened his expression became one of surprise and shock. ‘Good God! We’ll be right down!’
‘A crab,’ he addressed the others. ‘It’s just gone into that cave… dragging a human victim with it, some bloody fool of a surfer who risked drowning but instead fell victim to a giant crab. Well, at least we know that it’s back in the caves. All we need to do now is to blow up the entrance and the devils will be buried in there forever!’
The door opened and Cliff Davenport entered. ‘Something happened?’ He enquired.
‘Well, we can get ‘em now,’ Sanderson replied. ‘That’s providing we can make it along the shore. The worst of the storm has passed on but from what the coastguard told me the tide is still pretty rough.’ He glanced questioningly at the two soldiers. ‘What do you chaps think?’
‘It won’t be easy,’ one replied, ‘but we’ll give it a go.’
The party filed out in silence. Right now there was nothing more to be said. Success was in the lap of the gods.
The giant crustacean shambled through the deep pool and entered the maze of caverns.
There was still a vestige of life left in its victim in spite of the water he had swallowed and the blood that poured from his foot. Reuben had given up trying to scream, now he prayed for death to come to release him from his agony and terror.
The crab halted where the channel became less deep. It hungered for food after being trapped in here throughout the storm, but it knew in its own way that it had a family to feed; youngsters which were incapable of hunting the seabed for themselves. It severed a foot, began to chew upon it, resisted the urge to rip the body to shreds.
There were other fully-grown crustaceans back in the big cave. They would descend upon its catch in a frenzy, rip it to shreds and feast upon it. Its young would be deprived of food and right now it would be impossible to go back out there and hunt for marine life. First, though, it would satisfy its own craving with a human arm. It tore the limb free from Reuben’s body, and fed greedily upon it. Now it had no choice other than to drag the remnants of the corpse back to that cave where it would fight the other adults in an effort to provide some sustenance for its brood. Maternal instincts were uppermost even in females of monster crabs.
As it entered the main cave there was a stirring of huge crustaceans, shells knocking and scraping against protruding rocks, a threshing of the surface. Four adults scented food and surged towards the female. In the far corner a mass of small crabs joined the frenzied throng, clambered over the shell of a long dead adult. In here the crustaceans had both lived and died, their refuge from mankind over the passing years. Until they were ready to attack…
The female crouched to keep the others at bay, her pincers slashing at those which converged upon her, the dead and mutilated human pressed against the rock wall behind her in an effort to deny these crazed adults food.
A battle raged, the water foaming. The crabs were slashing at the female, their claws banging and scraping as she defended her recent find of human prey. The small ones bunched, frightened of the vicious fight.
Somewhere up above came a deep rumbling. Small fragments of rock cascaded from the sides of the cave, bounced off the crabs’ shells and splashed into the water.
Outnumbered, the female crab was showing signs of injury, her massive shell chipped and cracked. She lifted a pincer, trying in vain to protect her small face. One of her eyes was torn away, her mouth was cut and oozing fluid. Another strike blinded her; she wielded a damaged pincer, but it was struck down.
The attacking foursome were victorious, sheer weight of numbers pushed their female companion aside. One of them grabbed the crumpled human corpse and tried to shield it from the others. A flurry of pincers found a hold, tore at it, ripping it apart. Each had a segment of Reuben Ryan’s bloody flesh and bone, chewing voraciously on the still warm pieces of his corpse.
The female sank down in a heap. Watching in terror, the youngsters huddled in a corner fearful for their own fate. Another shower of rocks from above bounced off adult and infant shells. The water foamed.
From high up above the cliff rumbled and shook.
15
Heads bowed in an attempt to shield them from the rain and wind, Sanderson’s party arrived down on the beach, knee deep in the incoming tide. Up above that group of spectators were waving; their shouts whipped away by the elements.
The group crouched behind a pile of rocks which offered scant protection.
‘D’you think you can make it up to the cave entrance?’ Sanderson shouted through cupped hands into the ear of the solider struggling to carry the replacement explosive device.
‘Dunno,’ the other grimaced, ‘but we’ll give it a go now that we’re here.’ His companion nodded his agreement.
The pair set off, holding on to each other for support.
‘Let’s hope this is it,’ Sanderson spoke everybody’s hopes aloud, ‘then we can all go home.’
Cliff Davenport longed for a pipe of tobacco, but it would have been impossible in these conditions. He was tense, memories of that crustacean invasion of the coastline flooded back, almost as terrifying as they had been all those years ago. The crabs were virtually invincible, it was difficult to convince himself that this time they would be destroyed once and for all. Trapped inside the cliffs, they would surely starve to death.
Unless… a disturbing thought crept upon him. Both Adrian and Calvin had described the maze of tunnels within that cliff. Could there possibly be another exit somewhere, a passage leading away from here and so far undiscovered? No, surely not at such a popular holiday resort where visitors scoured every inch of the shoreline.
He shrugged off his doubts and fears, the purpose of his recent visit was to put his phobias to rest once and for all. Damn it, he was determined to do that at all costs.
Way up ahead the two soldiers were making slow progress. The incoming tide was stronger than they had anticipated, on one occasion a wave had washed over them but still they battled on. Another fifty yards…
Suddenly the cliff face above the cave entrance began to crack, a wide fissure that sent a number of small rocks showering down, splashing onto the shore around that underwater cave.
‘Hold back!’ One soldier grabbed the other. ‘The cliff’s starting to come apart above the cave entrance!’
Both men stared. A huge section of rock was leaning outwards, suspended precariously.
A shower of small rocks descended from it. ‘There’s going to be an avalanche. Get back before it’s too late!’
They turned, almost fell on the uneven surface beneath the tide, and clung desperately to each other. Behind them the large section of the cliff finally broke away, coming crashing down. A mighty splash followed as it fell into the pool below. Another fall followed it.
In desperation the two soldiers fought their way back. In the distance they saw their companions waving frantically. There was further rumbling and crashing from behind them as another huge section of rock parted company from the cliff face. It had withstood such storms from time immoral but had finally surrendered to the ravages of the pounding sea.
‘Thank God you’re safe,’ Sanderson pulled them into their scant shelter. ‘Another few minutes and you would have been buried beneath that lot.’
‘Well at least we don’t have to blow the cave up now.’ The soldiers lowered the explosive device to the ground. ‘The Terror from the West’ has done it for us. Nothing will get in or out
of those caves now!’
They stood watching the distant rockfall. A sizeable section of the cliff face had parted company from the main structure. Now the avalanche had ceased. Nature had decreed that her task was complete. She had trapped the crabs within their hiding place.
‘Well, there’s no point in stopping here,’ Sanderson turned away, the others following in his wake. ‘When the storm has gone, we can check that cave entrance, but I doubt that we’ll be able to see it.’
Cliff Davenport breathed a huge sigh of relief. Already he sensed that those crustacean phobias which had plagued him for forty years had finally been put to rest. He prayed that they had.
16
The following day Cliff accompanied Sanderson, Danielson, a couple of coastguards and the soldiers along to the beach past Shell Island and on towards the cliff face.
The storm had abated, gone on inland, weakening all the time. The incoming tide rippled instead of foaming, and overhead the sun shone out of a clear blue sky with only a few drifting white clouds. Summer had returned. Cliff unbuttoned his waterproof jacket; the day was warming up.
He was tense. Would they find what they hoped to discover; the cave entrance buried for all time beneath a huge fall of rocks from the cliff above? He paused to light his pipe and dropped behind the others like he was nervous about what they might see. Suppose that rock fall had missed the cave, leaving the pool and the underwater entrance open… Well, if it had then they would blow it up, he consoled himself.
Those up ahead of him had arrived at the scene. Somewhat in trepidation, Cliff joined them. They were all staring at the mighty pile of boulders that had come down from up above, stretching out to meet the incoming tide. That section of the shore was unrecognizable from their previous visits. High up above another section of the cliff had come loose and was leaning out precariously. In due course it would undoubtedly spill down into the huge fall beneath.
The pool was buried, just a small trickle of water flowing out from its extremity under the rocks.
‘Well,’ there was no mistaking Sanderson’s triumph as he pointed to the scene. ‘I guess that’s it, no need to detonate a charge of explosive. Mother Nature has done the job for us and she couldn’t have done it better. It’s like she had finally got fed up of harbouring those crabs, hiding them from humans!’
‘Yes,’ Davenport let out a long sigh of relief, ‘She couldn’t have done a better job, better than even a charge of explosive could have done!’
The party turned away and began retracing their steps. A sense of euphoria stemmed from the sheer relief at what they had witnessed.
‘I guess there’s going to be an awkward situation with the Russians now,’ Sanderson voiced his thoughts. ‘I had a phone call from Downing Street last night. The bodies of the three members of the crew are going to be collected and they want their submarine back.
‘According to what the Foreign Secretary told me it was fitted with an electric engine which emits less heat, so our patrols were unable to detect it in UK waters. The Russians are determined to outwit our enemy defence system. I read in the paper recently that we are developing an airplane with ‘Star Wars’ technology; laser weapons capable of shooting down enemy planes. This means that these planes would not run out of ammunition providing their engines could generate enough power. Around nine are ready to be deployed on operation. The paper also said that the existing Typhoons have been supplied with new missiles to boost their firepower. They claim that Britain now has the capability to defend itself. All in all, though, it is a worrying situation.’
‘Well, at least the crabs are out of the way,’ Danielson stated. ‘But in their place, we’ve got these giant jellyfish in our waters. They could well be out next marine problem. They are as dangerous as the giant crabs!’
‘Well?’ Pat Davenport had waited anxiously in the hotel’s foyer for her husband’s return.
‘They’re gone for good,’ he replied, ‘trapped in their cliff hideaway by one of the largest rockfalls I’ve ever seen.’
‘Thank God!’ There was no mistaking her relief. ‘Can we finally go home now?’
‘Indeed, we can,’ he laughed, ‘but I think we’ll have a celebration meal before we leave. I have a feeling that, like the giant crustaceans, my phobias are dead and buried!’
They embraced in undisguised ecstasy and sheer relief.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Guy N. Smith has been a best-selling author for over 40 years. He has published 120 novels and around 400 short stories and articles on various subjects.
Night of the Crabs became an instant best seller with the movie rights sold. Since then there have been no fewer than 7 sequels. Killer Crabs is currently being filmed.
Find out more at www.guynsmith.com
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Lycanthropy is known to be a mental condition where the sufferer believes himself to be a wolf and embarks upon a psychotic rampage. So perhaps there’s some truth in the age-old legends.
The Black Hill in South Shropshire is a dark forest where legend becomes reality. As well as werewolves seeking human prey, the hills hold tales of the black dogs. A sighting of these spectral canines is a harbinger of death.
Gordon Hall, the sporting tenant, finds himself caught up in these ancient horrors and is determined to destroy them once and for all.
Both his life and his soul are at risk.
Werewolf Omnibus collects together three vintage novels from the master of pulp horror, Guy N. Smith: Werewolf By Moonlight (1974), Return Of The Werewolf (1977) and The Son Of The Werewolf (1978), alongside a new short story, Spawn Of The Werewolf.
Guy N. Smith features in The Black Room Manuscripts Volume Three with his short story Toad In The Hole.
All profits made the sale of this book go to the charity Shelter.
Some words are born in shadows.
Some tales told only in whispers.
Under the paper thin veneer of our sanity is a world that exists. Hidden just beyond, in plain sight, waiting to consume you should you dare stray from the street-lit paths that sedate our fears.
For centuries the Black Room has stored stories of these encounters, suppressing the knowledge of the rarely seen. Protecting the civilised world from its own dark realities.
The door to the Black Room has once again swung open to unleash twenty five masterful tales of the macabre from the twisted minds of a new breed of horror author.
The Black Room holds many secrets.
Dare you enter…for a third time?
“The sheer effort and dedication that’s gone into creating this unbelievably comprehensive bibliography is breath-taking.” – DLS Reviews
The complete(ish) guide to collecting the works of Guy N. Smith.
A journey into collecting the works of prolific author Guy Newman Smith. The book covers all genres of the Great Scribbler's writing and contains over 950 pictures and useful details to assist any would-be collector.
The author has endeavoured to list and visually represent, through over 950 colour pictures, the vast catalogue of output from Guy N. Smith's 65+ years in print; from the early stories he had published in the Tettenhall Observer and Advertiser paper as a teenager through to the present day. A career that crosses fiction and non-fiction and has covered almost all possible genres along the way, from Self-Sufficiency to Westerns, via Countryside and Glamour magazines of the 70s, all in addition to the numerous horror and thriller titles he is better known for.
Content includes Fiction (all imprints/editions inc. non UK) and Non-Fiction Categories: Horror, Thriller, Countryside and Children's Novels, Omnibus Collections, Chapbooks, Graphic Novels, Anthologies, Fanzines, Booklets, Magazines (70s adult Glamour, Country Sport, Game-keeping, Horror etc.), Periodicals and Newspapers.
The book also contains an original Guy N. Smith short story ‘The Beast in the Cage’ along with humorous insight into the levels of collecting
Guy N. Smith's works in ‘The Completist- A Cautionary Tale’ by author Shane P.D Agnew.
A4 Size, 950+ colour pictures, 341 pages.
Available via Amazon.
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