Paranormal After Dark

by Rebecca Hamilton

  Otto shook his head and Bugs had to dodge out of the way to avoid the man’s large jaw. “Not this time, my friend. Mack’s done all he needed to.”

  “Oh, sure.” Disappointment rose within him again. Despite everything, he felt better with the older man around.

  Otto picked up Tom’s bag and handed it to him. The rucksack easily weighed five times what it had when Tom started this journey. The sleeping bag was now rolled up and tied to the top and metal pans hung off the front. To anyone else, he looked like a man heading off on a camping trip, but Tom doubted they’d be going anywhere near fresh air and sunshine.

  A small crowd had gathered and were watching them prepare to leave. People spoke in low voices, some holding hands. Tom sensed the small crowds’ eyes upon him and he adjusted the straps on his bag, self-conscious.

  “So, are we heading out the same way we came in?” Tom asked, awkwardly shrugging the heavy pack onto his shoulders. He looked up at the stone steps leading up to the hidden doorway he’d come through only hours earlier.

  Otto shook his head and turned in the other direction, to the back of the cavern. “We need to get into a different tunnel system. The tubes aren’t the only set of tunnels down here.”

  Tom wracked his brains trying to figure out what Otto meant. A light bulb went on in his head, accompanied by a sinking feeling in his stomach.

  Sewers.

  “We’re going into the sewer system, aren’t we?”

  Otto heard the reluctance in Tom’s voice and grinned. “Don’t worry; you won’t be wading through shit. They’re disused and have been for some time, so they’ve dried out a bit.”

  “Thank God!”

  “Don’t get too excited, they’re still not exactly pleasant.”

  Otto turned to the others who had gathered around. Hunched down a few feet from them, Sky fiddled with a metal bracelet around her wrist and generally tried to ignore them. Samantha stood quietly, watching and waiting. Jo and Billy both stood with their arms folded across their chest; almost comical characters in their extreme appearances—Jo with her thick neck and broad shoulders, and Billy with his pigeon chest and skinny forearms.

  Whatever their differences, the group was together and ready to go.

  “Good luck!” a woman’s voice called from the crowd.

  “Yeah! Go get the fucker!” someone else called out. A ripple of laughter followed the words, but an undercurrent of nerves hid beneath the sound.

  Tom raised a hand to the crowd, an awkward gesture that wasn’t quite a wave. A few people lifted their hands and offered smiles of encouragement in return.

  Together, the group turned and headed towards the back of the cave, crossing the rough and bumpy floor. Boulders rested on top of each other, having long since fallen and probably remaining there for thousands of years. Some of the stalagmite and stalactites had joined to form huge columns that stretched from floor to ceiling.

  Ahead, Tom noticed a deep crack in the cavern wall. As they get closer, it opened out to reveal a crevasse about the width of a man. The crevasse climbed the height of the cavern and disappeared into the rock.

  Tom thought of the city above, going about its business, completely unaware of what existed beneath them. He didn’t know how deep beneath ground they were, but he imagined what would happen if an earthquake or, God-forbid, a bomb struck the city in just the right place. A huge chunk of the city could be swallowed in this hollow structure. He wondered how many more places hid beneath the streets of London.

  Above him stood a civilised city with all its money and computer systems and power, but deep beneath the busy streets was a place that could have been from ancient times or a cave found in the depths of a South American forest.

  Otto reached the crevasse first. Pausing, he turned back to the others.

  “The most important thing now is not to panic,” he said. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze, but if someone my size can get through, the rest of you certainly can.”

  “You sure about that, Otto?” Jo called out, teasing him. “I did have that leftover pizza for breakfast.”

  Otto smiled. “Yes, Jo, even you will make it through.”

  “So you’ve done this before?” Tom asked. “I assume you know where we’re going?”

  Sky spun round to face him, the blue of her eyes deepening in anger. “We’re not all as green as you,” she spat. “Some of us deserve to be here.”

  Tom raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”

  His gaze travelled across the intimidating rock face. It seemed as though it were possible to disappear forever in the depths of the rock. He imagined the walls closing behind them, trapping them inside forever.

  Sky slipped into the darkness of the crevasse, her slender body skirting the rock face quickly and confidently, as though she had been this way a hundred times before. Otto followed; his large frame somehow as elegant and as confident as Sky’s had been before him.

  Samantha went next, flashing him a reassuring smile before she, too, vanished inside the rock. Tom took a deep breath and followed. The huge stone walls rose menacingly on either side of him and bore down, oppressive. Inside the crevasse, the rock face was uneven and jagged. Chunks jutted out, catching his jeans or threatening to crack the side of his head. The meagre light from the cavern was soon swallowed. Tom was thankful he had Samantha just ahead and Billy behind him. Jo brought up the rear. He didn’t like the idea of being the one out front, leading the way into the dark. Even worse was the thought of being at the back with the possibility of being snatched away by something unthinkable, whisked away with no one even noticing he was gone.

  He pushed the thoughts away.

  Don’t freak yourself out, you idiot, you’ve got enough to worry about without imaging things!

  No one spoke. Only the heavy breathing of his comrades filled the space, the concentration of the strangers he suddenly relied upon to save his life and the life of his son.

  The crevasse grew narrower and narrower, slowing their progress. In some places, Tom had to turn sideways to get through, the stone pressing against his chest and back, threatening to crush him. His breath grew quicker and shallower, his heart taking up a horrible trippy flutter, like bird wings against the inside of his rib-cage. He pushed the panic away, controlling his emotions long enough for the passage to widen again and allow him room to breathe.

  Beneath his feet, the ground seemed to be on a slight incline, taking them up and through the solid stone—not what he’d been expecting.

  The light from the cavern had diminished to nothing and Tom considered taking out his torch. Part of him wanted to utilise it, but he was aware of his limited batteries. Stupidly—and conscious of the ridiculousness of his male pride—he was also aware no one else had pulled out torches and he didn’t want to be the only one who looked like they were afraid of the dark.

  But the darkness was so black it pressed against his eyeballs. His eyes strained to see, but it was as though he’d grown blind and the blackness was all he’d ever see again.

  Blindly, he grasped at the walls on either side of him, using them and the sounds of the people ahead to guide his step.

  The loss of his most important sense seemed to affect all the rest, but, instead of them growing stronger, he only felt disoriented. His balance was the worst and when the floor suddenly dropped from beneath his feet, he had to stop himself from crying out. He felt as though he had dropped out of the sky and left his stomach behind. Only when his foot instantly hit solid rock did he realise he’d only dropped a couple of inches.

  Once he stopped straining to see and accepted the all-encompassing black, he found that he was almost able to sense where the wall jutted out or the floor fell away. He couldn’t put his finger on it—whether it was a change in the stale air in front of him or the sudden change in temperature from the cold stone—but he gradually grew more confident with each step.

  Like some forgotten skill, he soon found his way and when
Samantha tripped just ahead, he reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her fall. His fingers closed around the smooth skin of her wrist, the quick pulse of her blood thrumming beneath his fingertips.

  “Thank you,” she told him, her voice too loud in the confined space. “I don’t think I was built to be down here.”

  “Who is?” he said, wondering at his own new found agility in this inhospitable place.

  With his hand still wrapped around her arm, the heat from her skin burnt through his. In that moment, as they stood together, they were no one else other than themselves—no one’s husband, father, sister or mother. The darkness offered them total anonymity and for a moment they were the only people in the world.

  “You okay, Sam?” Billy called out, breaking the moment.

  Tom dropped her arm and they both stepped away, confusion humming in the darkness.

  “I’m fine, Billy. I tripped, but Tom caught me.”

  “Quick Draw McGraw!” Billy quipped, but they ignored him.

  Tom shook himself. He felt different. Perhaps all the expectation placed upon him was changing him? He was no hero, but maybe he was just a little more capable than he’d given himself credit for?

  Billy nudged him in the back and Tom realised the group was continuing along the crevasse, Samantha already walking on ahead. He hurried to close the gap, still using the walls as guidance.

  Beneath his palms, the cold stone grew damp. In parts, the damp developed into a trickle—water that cascaded down the walls from some unseen place far above his head. The total lack of light meant nothing could grow down here, so at least no moss or fungi made the floor as slippery as ice.

  “Hold your breath, everyone,” Otto called out. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Images of the man who had attacked them in the tunnels flooded Tom’s mind, but Otto’s voice contained more grim humour than concern. Drifting through the thin air towards him came the faint, yet acrid stink of ammonia.

  Tom put his arm across his face, ineffectively trying to block out the smell. The deeper his steps took him into the rock, the stronger the stench became. It crept up his nostrils and clung to the back of his throat, making him choke.

  A flutter of movement above his head made him duck and an embarrassing squeal escaped his throat. Instinctively, he raised his hands above his head, fending off this new and unexpected threat.

  “What the hell?”

  His heart pounded, but behind him Jo laughed.

  “Scared it will get tangled in your hair?” she teased.

  “Let me guess,” he said, quickly recovering from his fright with only a little residing embarrassment. “There are bats down here?”

  Jo laughed again, a girlish sound that didn’t quite match either the situation or the person it belonged to.

  “Big, dark caves underground? Of course there are bats!”

  Tom thought for a minute. “So there must be a way for them to get out? Somewhere above must be a hole or a gap so they’ve got access to the outside world to feed.”

  “Either that or they’re vampire bats,” she said. “Maybe they feed on the poor bastards who get stuck down here.”

  Tom shivered at the thought. “I really hope you’re joking.”

  “So do I.”

  Beneath his feet, the solid stone grew thick and sticky.

  Guano.

  The word stuck in his head, remembered from some long ago watched documentary on the BBC. The stuff sticking his feet to the floor was nothing more than a thick layer of bat shit.

  Far above his head, hundreds, even thousands, of fist-sized, furry bodies wrapped in leathery wings hung huddled together. Tom imagined he could hear them as they moved around each other—the gentle brush of wing against wing, tiny razor sharp claws climbing over the top of each other—with their snub nosed faces and pointed teeth. He would never have thought himself scared of bats—if anything, he thought of them as interesting, curious creatures—but, being in the total darkness, his imagination took over his common sense. In his head, the small bodies trebled in size and the pointy teeth morphed into fangs.

  Don’t freak yourself out, he warned himself. He was a grown man, but the dark was where the imagination fed best and he struggled to control his panic once again.

  “You okay, Samantha?” he asked quietly, hoping to break the pattern of panic before it took hold.

  “As long as one of them doesn’t touch me, I’ll be fine,” she said over her shoulder. “But if I start screaming, then I am being attacked.”

  “Well, as long as you’re not expecting me to help. In case you hadn’t noticed, I am not the hero type.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  Her response threw him. When he replied, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m no hero.”

  “We’ll have to see about that.”

  Tom’s heart sank. He was going to let everyone down—all of the people down here with him and even worse, the people who mattered most, Abby and David. Helpless responsibility overwhelmed him. He had no doubt he would fail these people. He just hoped he would find some way of saving David before he did.

  The air moved in front of him, stirred by the slow motion of a wing and a solid, yet agile body. This time, he managed to suppress the scream. Once was bad; twice would be humiliating.

  Gradually, the floor hardened beneath his feet again and the stench from the bats faded.

  Where the bats lived, the crevasse had widened temporarily, but now it narrowed again, squeezing them between its walls.

  “Nearly there, people,” Otto called back to them. “Suck it up.”

  “When I was learning to drive,” Tom said out loud, not talking to anyone in particular, “my father—my foster father—used to tell me to ‘think thin’ whenever I had to drive the car through a narrow gap. All I can hear now is his voice telling me to do exactly the same thing.”

  “Some of us have to do a bit more than think about it,” Jo said with a snort.

  “Some of us have to ‘think fat’,” Billy added. “What I’d give right now for a bit of extra poundage.”

  “Oh, to have such a problem,” Jo said. “It must be tough, being able to eat all those Big Macs and them not go straight to your arse.”

  Suddenly, Tom realised Samantha wasn’t directly in front of him anymore. The next moment, he stepped from the rocky floor of the crevasse onto smooth concrete.

  The crevasse opened up in front of them—a huge space Tom sensed rather than saw. He felt the change in air and a drop in the air temperature. He had the sensation that he was in a solid, man-made construction, the smell like stepping into an old, musty church.

  “Watch your step,” Otto said. “If anyone is carrying a torch, now would be a good time to use it.”

  Tom didn’t need to be told twice and apparently the others had also come prepared. Within moments, six different torch beams lit the new space.

  He found himself standing on a concrete walkway which ran around the walls of the huge space in a square formation. The others had edged to the side so they all stood side-by-side along the walkway.

  A foot from where they all stood, the concrete ledge ended and an expanse of still, black water started. The water was so utterly motionless it almost looked solid, as though Tom could continue forward and walk across like someone from a biblical story. The torchlight reflected back at them, bouncing off the surface.

  A low concrete ceiling pressed down above him, huge pipes running across it. The same pipes, only even larger, ran down the corners of the walls.

  “What the hell is this place?” he asked, his voice echoing back to him.

  “An underground reservoir,” Otto said. “Or at least it used to be. Years ago, when the water company discovered copper had been leaking in from the pipes and tainted the water, they abandoned it. The problem probably cost too much to sort out, so the water company just stopped using it.”

  “Jesus.” Tom shook his head in disbelief. Ho
w could so much exist beneath his feet and he’d spent his whole life wandering around completely unaware?

  “We need to head to the right,” Sky said, the first words she had spoken since they’d entered the crevasse. “There’s another opening on the other side of the reservoir that will take us to the sewer system.”

  Tom almost laughed. “That’s good to know—the sewer system is linked to the reservoir.”

  “I think that’s the least of your worries,” Sky shot back.

  Tom wanted to say something sharp, witty and intelligent back—something to make her feel small and stupid—but his mind went blank. For some reason, the girl made him feel like a gawky kid.

  Instead, he muttered, “and don’t I know about it,” and started to edge his way to the right, hoping he wasn’t going to slip and fall in the unfathomably deep, black water.

  CLANG!

  The deafening sound came from the pipes, reverberating above their heads, making everyone duck in response. It sounded as though someone had taken a giant sledgehammer and hit the pipes above them. The sound was deafening in the space and Samantha let out a small shriek of fear.

  CLANG!

  It came again, a deep and tortuous sound, a cathedral bell of the underground ringing the dead in for worship. Even after the initial sound faded, the noise seemed to linger in the air like a thunder clap.

  Tom shined his torch up at the pipes, frantically trying to see what was making the noise. He had no idea what he was looking for and he wasn’t rewarded for his efforts.

  The banging came again and again, a rhythmical clanging of metal on metal.

  Tom put his hands over his ears. “What the hell is that?” he yelled over the noise.

  But no one answered; all eyes were fixed on the pipes above.

  Tom wondered if the noise was being caused by air in the pipes, like the creaking at night in a house with old plumbing, only one hundred times worse due to the sheer scale of the pipes.

  Then he realised the reverberations left over after each of the bangs had changed. Beneath the hum came the same volley of whispers he’d heard the day before, the same strange mixtures of words and static that chilled him to the bone.