The Cave

by Gary Crew

  Era Publications

  220 Grange Road, Flinders Park, SA, 5025 Australia

  Text © Gary Crew, 1999

  Illustration © Steven Woolman, 1999

  Editor, Rodney Martin

  ePub designer, Nathan Kolic

  All rights reserved by the publisher

  eISBN 9781740490672

  Copyright Notice: No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Written by Gary Crew

  Illustrated by Steven Woolman

  Chapter 1

  The Dalton brothers were confused — and though they would never admit it, just a little afraid.

  For years now David and Andrew had been taking their holidays at Old Rusty’s goat farm, high in the wild hills. Rusty was a friend of their Grandad. He was always cranky – well, nearly always. After all, he ran the farm alone and sometimes had trouble getting around the rougher places. He had lost one leg in the war. But Rusty was kind to the boys and they enjoyed their holidays with him, especially exploring the labyrinth of limestone caves that lay beneath his farm.

  But after the Public Energy Board built the windmill on the property, things had changed.

  “New-fangled technology,” Old Rusty complained as the three stood in his farmyard at the start of a long weekend. “There’s a nuclear power station over at Anglesea, just behind those hills. Why do I need wind energy too? That darn windmill stands out like a sore thumb. Spoils the scenery, it does.”

  It was six weeks since the boys had seen Rusty and he was still grumbling about the ‘wind-driven monstrosity’ whose three enormous sails rotated monotonously not a hundred metres from his house.

  “The windmill might be an eye-sore but it produces, clean, cheap electricity,” David reminded the old man. David was the older of the two brothers and inclined to be more forthright.

  “Did that thing that attacked the farm last holidays come back?” Andrew asked. “We had to go before we heard the whole story. Worse still, there was nothing about it in the papers back home – and Rusty, you never phone or write.”

  Rusty ruffled the boy’s hair fondly. “Sorry Andy. But there honestly isn’t anything more to tell. Nothing out of the ordinary has happened since you left, so I reckon you’re safe enough.”

  “Aw, come on Rusty,” David chastised gently, “there must be some news. I mean, that was a really weird night. We’ve been itching to know.”

  “I did ring the Public Energy people after you’d gone,” Rusty admitted, “but by the time they arrived, there was nothing worth showing them. Still, they lubricated that darn monstrosity so it doesn’t squeak anymore.”

  “Rusty, last time we were here there were four sails driving the windmill,” David countered, “and one of them wasn’t made by a human, that’s for sure. Did you tell the energy people that?”

  Rusty laughed. “You think they would have believed me? After all, that sail-wing-thing was gone by midday . . .”

  “Actually, it was gone before that,” David announced in his know-all tone. “We caught our bus home at ten that morning and it was gone by then.”

  “Blown away?” Andy suggested.

  “Maybe,” Rusty mused. “But, after that wild night before, with the wind and the chimney pots falling, I reckon we were just spooked, that’s all. I reckon that wing-thing could’ve been a figment of our imagination. Anyway, enough of that. Come inside. Your dinner’s ready: sausages and mashed potatoes. How’s that?”

  “With tomato sauce and big fat peas?” David asked, eagerly picking up their bags.

  But Andy lagged behind, his thoughts still taken up with events of the previous holiday.

  “I’ll never forget that night,” he called after them. “First the house was attacked by something awfully big and then, in the morning, there was a fourth sail on the windmill. I wonder if some alien attacked it and left a wing behind. That’s what I . . .”

  “Forget about it, boyo,” Rusty reassured him from the kitchen door. “When you’ve been through a war like I have, you see all sorts of strange things. Now come on in. After dinner you can lie in bed and listen to my radio. There’s a special concert coming in all the way from London tonight. Only lullabies, they say. That should settle you down.”

  Still Andy lingered at the door, watching the lowering sky and listening to the rising wind.

  Chapter 2

  After dinner the boys went to their bedroom in the attic and settled down to read. They loved reading in bed at Rusty’s, listening to the soft music drifting up from his old console radio in the living room below. The lilting sound of the lullabies soon worked a special magic and they slipped serenely off to sleep.

  The morning was dull, the sky was bleak, and the wild mid-winter wind swept through the hills, driving the last of the long dead autumn leaves before it like withered ghosts.

  “Looks like a good day for caving,” David announced over breakfast. “It’s too wild to be out in the open.”

  Andy’s mood brightened a little. “Good idea.”

  “Quite a pair of speleologists, aren’t you?”

  “We spotted some damage to the limestone formations down there last time – from the vibrations caused by the heavy machinery that installed the windmill, I’d say,” David replied. “I wouldn’t mind seeing if it’s any worse.”

  “One of the floor to ceiling stalactites was cracked. A pity that . . .”

  Always eager to make out that he knew better, David cut his brother off. “Stalagmites, if they rise from the floor of a cave, Andy.”

  “Actually, they’re called columns if they go all the way from the floor to the ceiling,” Rusty corrected. “I think that’s what you meant, isn’t it Andy?”

  Andrew was used to being put down by his big brother. “Yeah, that’s what I meant. Anyway,” he shrugged, “I was wondering if the cracked column had collapsed. That’d be a terribly pity. They take years to form, heh? And I wouldn’t mind another look at those scratches we saw . . .”

  David discreetly kicked his brother to silence him. Rusty might not allow them to go if he heard about the strange scratches they had seen on the cave wall.

  But Rusty didn’t seem to notice Andy’s remark — or David’s kick, for that matter. He was more interested in the damage done to the caves.

  “Columns like that are one of the wonders of nature,” he said as he squeezed the dripping dishcloth into the kitchen sink. “Drip, drip, drip, every one leaving a tiny bit of sediment. Millions of drops over millions of years build up a column. It’s terrible to see something like that destroyed in the name of progress. That darned windmill . . .”

  “That’s true Rusty,” David cut in again, eager to avoid yet another lecture on the woes the windmill had brought to the farm. “Can we have some candles?”

  “Sure. They’re in the cupboard, same as always. Nothing much changes around here.”

  “Let’s hope that caves haven’t . . .” Andy mumbled as he scrambled in the cupboard beneath the stairs.

  “I’ll fetch our backpacks from the attic,” David called, and soon the boys were on their way.

  Chapter 3

  David and Andrew had known for years that the rocky stratum beneath Rusty’s farm was riddled with caves. They had explored most of them but their favourite was the one with the cracked column. Its entrance was about five hundred metres from the house, concealed by a tumble of boulders at the base of a cliff.

  To enter the cave the b
oys had to crawl four or five metres through a tiny opening before they could stand upright. In fact, they would never have found the place at all if Andy hadn’t spotted a rabbit vanishing into what he took to be the cliff face — so the cave had remained the boys’ secret, except for their telling Rusty about it, of course.

  Once inside and able to stand and move freely, the boys could light their candles and the true treasures of the cave would be revealed. While they knew that there were minor caves and rocky corridors leading off in all directions, the main cave was like a huge gallery, its vaulted ceiling disappearing into the darkness at least twenty metres above their heads. They had never explored its entire length.

  No sooner had the boys crawled in and lit the candles, throwing an eerie light on the wonders of the cave, than a curious scuttling met their ears — as if something was moving about in the dark.

  “You hear that?” Andy whispered nervously.

  “Hear what?” David replied, his voice sounding none too assured.

  “That scrabbling in the rocks,” Andy answered, holding his candle up. “Sounds like there could be something in here. Animals or something.”

  “You’re just spooked like Old Rusty said,” David sneered. “There’s nothing in here — except maybe rabbits.”

  Hardly were the words out of his mouth when the noise came again. This time there was no doubt. Up ahead, in the deepest darkness at the back of the cave, something was moving.

  Andy held his candle higher. The flame lit the crystal outcrops embedded in the cave walls and cast back a shimmering light. Momentarily he forgot his fear and stared around.

  “Gee, it’s beautiful in here,” he muttered. “Look, there’s that column . . . or what’s left of it,” and he pointed ahead.

  Sure enough, the cracked column had collapsed. The boys approached cautiously until they stood beside the fallen cylinder of stone.

  “Wow,” breathed David. “Awesome. I wonder what’s made it break away?” He dropped to his knees to better examine the stone.

  “Something big, whatever it was,” Andy said, kneeling beside him. “There shouldn’t have been any more blasting on the windmill site, should there?”

  “Nah. But it might have been an earth tremor. Cave formations are delicate things,” David said knowledgeably. “Doesn’t take much to shatter them. Must have been a tremor, I’d say.” He seemed eager to reassure himself, although he knew nothing at all about seismology. “Right?”

  Andy grunted and watched as molten wax dripped from his candle on to the fallen column then trickled down its side, like lava. He was about to get up when he noticed that the wax had channelled into a series of parallel grooves on the side of the stone.

  “David,” he said “check this out.”

  His brother lowered his candle to look. “Weird. Like those scratches we saw on the cave walls last time. Here, let me get rid of the wax.”

  He pulled his scout knife from the sheath at his belt and scraped the wax away. Beneath were five deeply gouged grooves, each about three centimetres apart and ten long.

  Andy ran his fingers lightly over them. “So rabbits made these?” he sneered. “Or maybe they were caused by that earth tremor too.” He was nervous, but still found the courage to challenge his know-all brother.

  Strangely, David said nothing. Instead, after one quick glance at the marks he cocked his head, listening.

  “Well?” Andy demanded, growing impatient. “What do you think made these?”

  “I don’t know . . . But I thought I heard that noise again . . .”

  From the darkness above came a rushing wind and a sound like that of giant wings beating. The boys ducked instinctively as something huge swept down upon them. Their candles flickered, struggling to stay alight, then all went black.

  Chapter 4

  “The matches!” David yelled. “Where’s the matches?”

  “I’ve got them,’ Andy answered, swinging the pack from his back and grappling with the buckles.

  “Hurry up!”

  “I’m trying to.”

  At last Andy found the box at the bottom of his pack and lit his candle.

  “Mine too,” demanded David, his voice betraying his fear.

  “Give me a break.”

  No sooner had the candlelight pierced the darkness, than the wind came again.

  This time there was no doubt: rapidly beating wings swept down upon them from the unexplored blackness at the rear of the cave.

  David was struck first. Instantly his candle gutted. The flying thing seemed to circle in the darkness then struck Andy, sending him sprawling beside his brother.

  “You all right Andy?” David whispered, reaching out.

  Andy took his brother’s hand and held tight. It was a rare moment for the boys. Although they loved each other, they hardly ever showed it. And now, in this godforsaken place, who was there to see?

  Chapter 5

  “What the hell’s happening?” Andy called across the darkness.

  David reassuringly squeezed his hand. “There’s something in here that doesn’t like us, that’s for sure,” he answered. “And it isn’t a rabbit . . . unless rabbits can fly! Sorry bro. I should’ve believed you.”

  Any other time, Andy would be tickled to bits to hear his big brother apologise — and so sincerely — but right now apologies seemed irrelevant.

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered. “What I need to know is how do we get out of here without being strafed again? I mean whatever that thing is, it’s huge!”

  “Be nice if we could see what we were up against, wouldn’t it? But if we light the candles, we’ll just be showing it — or them — where we are.”

  Andy had an idea. “There’s some old muesli bar wrappers in my bag. If I light a handful of them and toss it away, then we could see if anything goes for the light. Okay?”

  “Animals are repelled by fire, dumbo.”

  “So? You’ve got a better idea, Einstein?”

  “No.”

  Andy reached into his pack, grabbed the papers and crushed them into a ball. He struck a match, lit the papers and tossed the flaming mass in to the abyss behind them.

  The paper arced through the darkness like a meteorite, bounced once, spraying sparks, then rolled into a shallow depression and was still.

  Something scrambled towards the flame.

  What was this thing that could fly, yet sounded heavy enough to be an elephant?

  “Chuck another bit,” David whispered. “It sure isn’t scared of fire.”

  Andy dug deep into his bag and repeated the fiery process. Once again rocks were dislodged. The thing came closer. Andy’s body throbbed with adrenalin. Something David said had got him going: It sure isn’t scared of fire . . .

  What creatures weren’t scared of fire? This thing was actually attracted to it – to light, at least.

  “David,” Andy almost shouted. “It’s an insect. A giant . . .”

  When the thing lurched out of the darkness, there was no need to say more. Not two metres from the boys a monstrous cockroach reared, its spiny legs the size of pine saplings. Widespread black forewings, lacquered and lustrous, revealed a second, membranous pair, which glistened in the dying light of the flame.

  Rallying his courage, David attempted to call out — no doubt intending to warn his little brother — but the sight and sound of the creature’s gnashing mandibles left him speechless.

  Not that Andrew needed help. He knew that he must remain perfectly still, perfectly quiet. This must be what had attacked Rusty’s farm. This must be the source of that mysterious fourth wing-sail-thing they had seen spinning on the windmill: the alien wing whose image had haunted him since that chill winter morning six weeks ago.

  “David,” he dared to whisper. “David . . ?”

  But judging from the limp fingers he felt in his hand, and the inert form lying stretched on the cave floor beside him, he knew that his big brother had
passed out.

  Chapter 6

  When David regained consciousness he found Andrew sitting beside him holding his hand. Embarrassed, he snatched it away. Then the whole horrible episode came crowding back upon him. He remembered why they were in the dark, why they were so close . . . and the fearful creature that had loomed above them.

  “Is it gone?” he whispered, looking behind.

  “I think so. As soon as the flames died down it shuffled off into the back of the cave. Just after you blacked out, that was. About five minutes ago.”

  “Was there only one?”

  “I can’t say. I only saw one but who knows what’s back there?”

  “But you’re sure that one’s gone?” David half-turned to make certain.

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

  “Maybe we should tell Rusty but if he knew that thing was here, we would never be allowed to come down again, even if we wanted to.”

  “No, no,” David muttered. “I mean, you won’t tell anybody that I fainted, will you?”

  Even though he wasn’t feeling all that brave himself, Andrew stifled a laugh. This was his big brother? How times had changed. “Course not.”

  “Scout’s honour?”

  “Scout’s honour.”

  “All right then. What are we going to do?”

  “Get out of here fast.”

  “We’ll have to find the way in the dark,” David advised, quickly slipping back into Commander-in-Chief mode. “We can’t risk lighting another candle.”

  Andrew didn’t bother to answer. He was already trailing his fingers along the rugged wall, searching for the way out.

  Both boys trod lightly, careful not to disturb the creature, wherever it might be lurking. Soon the reassuring glow of daylight led them more confidently towards the entrance.