Upworld

by Ian Woodhead

  “Away from the hole,” he yelled, as dirt and rocks rained down on them through the hole they had dug. He glanced up in time to see a section of the roof of the shaft above crumble. If they had remained where they were, it would have crushed all of them.

  The rumbling subsided within seconds, but the dust was slow to settle. Frederick wiped his eyes, making things worse with his filthy hand. He would have killed for a drink of water, but their water cooler lay buried beneath tons of rock. The tunnel stretched into darkness in both directions. To his left, he knew the tunnel ended abruptly when the miners had struck an underground aquifer of hot water, flooding the shaft. To his right, the company had installed a waterproof steel door to seal off the flooded shaft from the rest of the mine. He hoped the door was unlocked.

  He tried hard not to believe Verkhoen had ordered the explosion, sealing the new shaft and perhaps their fates as well. While the young CEO was ruthless, to wantonly kill five men simply to silence opposition was insane. Eve, a much shrewder judge of character than him, had warned him not to openly antagonize Verkhoen, but he had ignored her. He wished now he had heeded her advice. They had one chance. If Verkhoen did not guess they had entered the lower shaft, they could exit through the steel door and enter the main shaft system. Once out among the other miners, even Verkhoen would not dare attempt to harm him.

  He quickly explained to them what he and Mbussa had discussed concerning the possibility of Verkhoen’s complicity in the collapse. There were a few stunned faces, but most knew Duchamps well enough to believe him capable of such an act if ordered to do so.

  “We’ll continue down this tunnel to a point beyond the collapse and give them time to begin digging us out. Then we will leave through the old steel door. Once we reach the elevators, we’ll be safe.”

  They walked a hundred meters down the tunnel. Along the way, Frederick noticed the complete absence of the water signs he expected to see in a once-flooded tunnel. Examining the floor of the tunnel more carefully, to his shock, he determined it had never been flooded. “More of Verkhoen’s lies,” he grumbled. “What really did happen here?”

  They sat in total darkness for two hours to conserve their batteries and to allow the dust to settle. The air wasn’t stale, but it carried an unidentifiable odor that made Frederick’s stomach queasy. It reminded him of an abandoned animal den, but of no creature that he had ever encountered. He put it down to nerves. Strangely, the tunnel was not as hot as the one above. That concerned him, but only as an inexplicable datum. It presented no immediate danger. In fact, the cooler temperature could prolong their lives.

  After a while, the unseen walls began to close in on him. As a mining engineer, he had thought himself immune to claustrophobia, but he had never been in the dark hemmed in by solid rock for hours on end. The darkness seemed to magnify his fears. Insane, horrific thoughts spawned by the blackness surrounding him found fertile soil at the edge of his conscience. He imagined he could feel the others’ fear slowly seeping into his mind. Only by concentrating on Eve and the ring in his pocket did he manage to stave off the subtle onset of madness.

  Finally, the muffled sounds of drilling reached them through the rock. The rescue attempt had begun. He switched on his iPad, using its flashlight function to scan the mud-caked faces around him. The stark contrast between their frightened faces and the smiles they offered him struck him as photo worthy. He snapped a photo for his album. Mbussa, exhausted by the digging, leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed.

  His habit of jotting down notes and stray thoughts on the iPad’s notebook was too ingrained to ignore. He wrote a brief summary of the cave-in, adding only the facts he could prove. Speculation and innuendo would only call his observations into question. His accusation against Verkhoen would be face-to-face. He added a quick note to Eve, just in case. He would erase it when he reached the surface. When he finished, he made sure the device backed up his data onto the memory stick and laid his iPad down beside him.

  “What did you mean when you said Intulo earlier?” he asked Mbussa.

  Mbussa at first looked embarrassed; then he smiled. “Intulo is a demon who lives in the earth. He heralds death.”

  Frederick nodded. “You believe in Intulo, and yet you make your living in a gold mine.”

  “I work below the earth because I must to feed my family. My belief in the ancient tales is much like some Christians’ belief in God. I have doubts, but I believe just in case I am wrong.”

  “A very wise choice,” Frederick conceded. He checked his watch. “I think it’s been long enough.” He stood and stretched his legs, stiff from sitting so long. “Grab the picks in case the steel door is sealed. Then …”

  His voice trailed off as a strange sound drifted down the tunnel, louder and nearer than the rescue drills, a loud clicking, like the electric starter of a gas range. It came from the dead end of the shaft. He hoped the sound didn’t presage another cave-in or a flood.

  “What can that be?” he asked aloud.

  “I’ll check,” Mbussa offered, as he stood and switched on his lamp.

  Frederick followed Mbussa’s progress down the dark tunnel until the darkness swallowed him. A few minutes later, Mbussa’s blood-curdling scream echoed down the tunnel, ricocheting from the rock walls until it faded in the distance. The ghastly moan continued for only a few more seconds before ending abruptly.

  “What the bloody hell?” Frederick exclaimed. His skin began to tingle, and his mouth went dry. He tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat was a fist crammed down it. Fear reached its icy hand into his chest, squeezing his pounding heart until his courage ran as cold as his blood. He wanted to run, but the eerie sound riveted him in place like spikes driven through his feet into the solid rock.

  The clicking grew louder, as did the horrendous scratching of a thousand metal chisels on stone. Now, all the helmet lamps were on and pointed down the tunnel toward the sound. Beams of light danced along the walls, floor, and roof, searching for its source. Large, indistinguishable shapes moved in the shadows, making it difficult to judge their size. They moved rapidly and resolutely toward the fearful group of transfixed men.

  One of the shadows separated from the wall and fell upon one of men. He screamed in agony, as sprays of blood splattered the stunned miners. The creature dragged him to the ground and savagely attacked him. Long, pointed sticks jabbed into the man’s chest. Blood ran from his open mouth. No, Frederick realized. Not sticks, legs. It was a giant insect, an enormous black beetle twice the size of a miner’s helmet.

  More insects appeared, swarming as scores skittered from the darkness in an insect flood. The lights reflected dully from their shiny carapaces as if absorbed by the ebony chitinous material. Now, everyone was screaming; burly miners who considered themselves above fear blubbering like frightened children. Their cries roused Frederick from his own terror trance. He grabbed a pick, and with a mighty swing drove the tip into one of the creatures’ back. It was like chipping stone. The pick’s tip skidded across the rigid chitinous shell doing no damage. The insect tumbled away, but quickly regained its feet and attacked him. Stunned, he dropped the useless pick and raced down the tunnel toward the exit, praying the steel door at the end was not locked.

  After fewer than a dozen steps, a searing pain brought him to the ground. Fire lanced through his leg, shooting up his back and stabbing his brain. He glanced in horror at his right leg dangling by a flap of skin. Two of the creatures had nearly amputated the leg with their razor-sharp mandibles. A spray of blood arced through the air, splashing the floor of the tunnel and drenching the creatures. They tugged the leg free and fought over their prize. The absurdity of two nightmarish creatures skirmishing over his unattached leg struck him as hilarious. He barked out a short, clipped laugh. The creatures, engrossed in their feast, ignored him. He dragged himself down the tunnel toward the steel door, leaving a bloody trail behind him.

  He knew escape was useless. His life’s blood was spilli
ng from him at an alarming rate. The smell of blood and fear permeated the tunnel, driving the creatures insane. The hellish beetles were everywhere. His stump, rather than in excruciating agony, was numb. He realized his body was in shock and that unconsciousness was not far away. He wanted to document what was happening, a record of his death. He fumbled for his iPad and snapped two quick photos of the creatures, realizing too late that the flash attracted them. He rolled onto his stomach and tried to crawl away, but they surrounded him, relentlessly nipping and pinching at his extremities. As they scurried over him, their pointed legs were daggers stabbing into his flesh.

  Eventually, their weight pressed his face into the ground. He didn’t see the mandibles ripping into the soft flesh of his back, but he felt the intense pain as the creatures tore muscles and severed bone to reach his internal organs. Screaming obscenities, he slapped uselessly at the creatures with his left hand until one of the beetles snapped it off at the wrist.

  As he stared dumfounded at the bloody stump, his helmet light went out, instantly plunging the tunnel into abysmal darkness. The darkness was a godsend. It saved him the horror of watching the creatures rip him apart. Strangely, he no longer felt pain, just an odd sense of separation, as if he was no longer in his body. He tried to laugh. He knew he must look a mess. What would Eve think? She had always said he looked so distinguished.

  He pushed the box containing Eve’s ring deeper into his pocket with his remaining hand to protect it. He wanted to look at it one last time, but it was too late. A chill came over him as he lay dying. He sensed something farther away, deeper down the tunnel from which the creatures had come. It was a malevolent presence, eager to feed. Even the ravenous insects feared it, pausing for a moment from their meal. They stopped their incessant clicking and turned toward the presence; then, life fled his body.

  The sounds of drilling continued above as the insects feasted. Two-hundred-million years of evolution had made of them efficient predators and voracious scavengers, leaving nothing behind but dismembered skeletons. When they finished their meal, they lingered in the tunnel for a while, searching for a way out. Later, when hunger forced them, they returned through the crack in the wall to their lair.

  Intulo: The Lost World is available from Amazon here.