Under Loch and Key

by Kathryn Cockrill

  This is bad, this is bad, this is bad.

  I shook my head violently, trying to shake away the crippling doubt that was pounding through my body.

  It’s not that bad. Now, you’re just working to a time limit. So, get moving.

  Gritting my teeth, I pulled back out onto the main road, the rain hitting the windscreen in a tsunami now. I was only twenty minutes from the first Loch, and I wasn’t going to stop now, not after I’d come all the way to Scotland. Caden was an issue for future Ari. The rain continued to buffer the car as I sped into the mountains.

  Time to hunt some monsters.

  Chapter 7

  Myths and legends are funny things. For the sake of either one we’ll give up our money and our time, spending hours and days fixated on something that might not even exist and then trekking across land and ocean to find out if it does. I guess that’s the appeal of it, the draw; it’s that possibility of discovering something magical, something that people tell their children in a fairy-tale but don’t actually believe. For some people it becomes an obsession, the need to prove one of these mythical beings exists as strong as blood calling to blood. In reality, it was probably made up by a farmer who had drunk too much homemade beer whilst walking his fields and hallucinated a giant, furry man. Most people who chase legends return home empty-handed, with muddled dreams, barren pockets and the commemorative t-shirt. The lucky few will snap a blurry picture and get their fifteen minutes of fame. It’s definitely a fool’s game.

  I look up from my internal monologue to gaze, or squint rather, through the mist and across the Loch. I couldn’t really judge legend chasers when I was sat on a freezing cold, moss-covered rock in the Scottish drizzle staring determinedly at a Loch. Like I had been for the last five hours. For the last two days. Really it wasn’t important how long I’d been here.

  With a sigh, I opened the notebook I’d been shielding on my lap, covering the battered pages with the edges of my sleeves in an attempt to prevent any water damage. As it was, the ink on the pages had faded to a sea-foam grey, years of wear and tear, of fingers running over the same lines, rubbing away all but the faint indent. It didn’t matter though, I knew the words on the pages by heart, having re-read them countless times in the last three years. I traced a finger over a drawing that took up half the page, or at least it did once, fluttering over phantom curved lines and razor points. The drawing was annotated, my brother’s handwriting sticking out in spiked peaks even on the faded paper suspended, it seemed, in mid-air. I smiled at the shadows of the doodles sprinkled in the margins, cartoonish animals grinning back at me. He drew them for me, back when I hounded him every second of every day to pay me attention. Instead, he found a way to distract me, drawing tiny landscapes on scrap pieces of paper, punctuated with their animal counterparts. As I turned the page now, a lion bared its teeth in an over-the-top grin. My brother had never been that interested in animals that actually existed, but they provided entertainment for his annoying kid sister, so pretty soon they were cropping up everywhere. Now, most of his drawings in the house had been covered up, an attempt on the part of my parents to forget him and move on but these drawings, the ones in his notebook were mine and mine alone.

  A sudden crack of thunder in the distance made me jump, the booming sound ricocheting off the landscape in waves until it broke over my head. I closed the notebook quickly, passing the thin leather cord around the cover once, twice, three times before looping it over the tarnished catch. With a final glance at the Loch in front of me, I pushed myself up from the slimy rock, my knees cracking as I stood, protesting against the movement with a groaning symphony that rivalled even the approaching storm. Grabbing my backpack from the ground next to the rock I hastily shoved the notebook inside, tucking it between a wool hat and my crumpled map. Zipping it up, I threw the pack over my shoulder and began to make my way back up the trail I had all but slipped down earlier. The near constant drizzle, the same drizzle that had been going on for days now, had bogged down the path, watery-brown patches of mud sucking at my boots as I picked my way through the mossy undergrowth. The only good thing about this rain was its ability to get rid of every bug in the vicinity. Much more effective than Deet! Overhead, the thunder clouds continued to roll in, their blackened shadows turning the landscape a grey ombré. With a grimace, I pulled my hood tighter around my face, the toggles dangling at my chin as I stomped through the sludge.

  Can your eyes get frostbite? It certainly feels like it.

  The drizzle was slowly giving way to rain, fat, heavy droplets interspersed in the mist. You could hear them audibly hit the leaves and branches as their tempo picked up, becoming an overwhelming melody. Another clap of thunder broke the horizon, though this time I felt it before it hit my ears, that low rumble carrying through the soles of my shoes and up my arms in a goosebump wave. There was only time for a few breaths before it rolled again, this time accompanied by blue-white lightning that lit up the trail around me. For a brief moment, tree branches seemed to reach out, arthritic fingers twisted in the eye of the storm. Shadows that had previously crept along the ground, slinking over roots and around rocks now leapt forward, edges sharp against their barked backdrop. I stumbled over an outstretched limb, the paranoia of being alone in the storm shooting up my spine. Taking a breath, I forced my feet to stop, my panicked soles protesting as I leant against the trunk of a tree, closing my eyes against the elements. Almost as quickly as it had come, the lightning faded and the thunder remained silent coaxing the landscape to settle back into its charming, albeit slightly soggy, façade. The heartbeat that had been hammering in my throat relented, calmly sitting back in my chest. For a few seconds there was a peaceful hum, the kind of sound that comes from nothing but things existing.

  Then, with the fanfare of a brass band, the thunder and lightning resumed their schedule, the blazing electric light casting a blanket of white fire over the trail. I pushed off from the tree, my feet squelching in the mud. In the surrounding chaos, the edges of the trail seemed to scurry away. My shoes began to slide, the boggy ground too loose to keep any kind of traction. I felt my left leg go out from beneath me, flying to the side as the path became more and more of a river. Instead of the resounding squelch of more mud, my foot met air, the edges of the narrow trail apparently closer than I had realised. With a cry that was quickly gobbled up by the storm, I slid off into the foliage, my ankle rolling as it dragged along the edge of the rocky ground. The vegetation hid a slope that seemed to drag me down, my balance forfeited way back in the mud and I felt my shoulder hit the ground with a thud as I careened down the hill. Each limb was met by a rock or root; new bruises marked under the surface, ready to flourish in a matter of hours. My hands scrabbled, trying to grab hold of anything I could reach but my cold, wet fingers simply washed off of any solid object. Slowly the hill levelled out, the slip n’ slide of mud making way for a boggy swamp instead.

  I juddered to a stop, now the same colour as the rest of the landscape. I had no idea how far down I’d fallen, or how far off the trail I’d ended up and the raging storm overhead showed no signs of stopping. Gritting my teeth at the pain in my shoulder and my ankle and, well, almost every part of my body, I scrambled up with all the grace of a very muddy new-born giraffe and tried to see through the torrential rain. Ahead of me, trees curved like giants, their branches knotted together to form a sort of canopy; although it may not have been the safest solution for the lightning, I needed to get out of the rain so I could try to get my bearings. There was no way I could do that with a waterfall running down my face.

  With shaking footsteps, I made my way over, arms outstretched in a desperate attempt to keep my balance. Once I was under, the rain eased, the leaves catching most of the droplets; I wiped away the torrent of water that was still running from my scalp, distantly hoping none of it was blood and had a better look around. The trees here seemed to stretch on for a while, their trunks thick and old, lining what appeared to be various pathways. Or, at le
ast, they had once been pathways but were now so overgrown with brambles and nettles that they seemed more like vague suggestions of trails. The largest path took me deeper into the forest, most of the path fading into shadows. Glancing back over my shoulder I tried to decide if I could climb back up the hill, but the incline told me I’d probably break my neck trying. Shuffling my backpack, which had somehow clung on during my rapid descent, higher onto my back I turned back to the path in front of me, hoping no lightning decided to hit.

  Although the sodden dirt was still squelching underfoot, the soft covering of grass combined with the fact this clearly wasn’t a well-trodden path, meant I could walk quickly, still mostly sheltered from the rain. The thunder still rumbled behind me and every so often the trees would spark with lightning but, as I walked further into the canopy of trees, the sounds from the storm dimmed, buffeted by the foliage.

  A glint caught my eye, nestled in between the large leaves of a plant at the edge of the path. Stopping, I crouched down so I could see the mystery object in better detail. A curved piece of metal gleamed at me, almost meeting in a perfect circle. Despite being sat in the undergrowth, there was no tarnishing, no rust, only a couple of bits of debris. Pushing the leaves aside I wrestled the metal out from the soil. It was the size of a dinner plate, with holes notched on one side of and pins on the other. I pulled the two ends of the metal together with more force than necessary since I’d expected at least a little resistance, then pushed the closest pin into the closest hole. It slid in smoothly, fastening with a satisfying click. I stared at it for another few seconds, trying to equate the lush forest around me with the cold metal in my hands.

  It looks like a collar… But what kind of animal would be wearing a collar this size?

  I didn’t even want to think about it. As I went to drop it back in the grass, something stopped me; for some unknown reason I found myself unzipping my sodden backpack and dropping it in, the weight pulling down the bottom of the bag.

  Keep going, you still need to find shelter.

  I walked back into the centre of the path and continued through the trees. It was only another minute or two of walking before the wide mouth of a cave appeared on my left, sprouting out of the surrounding foliage without warning. Ahead, the path continued but I couldn’t see where it ended or even if it ended at all. The storm was still raging in the distance and fat droplets still made their way through the canopy every now and then. Without any other option, I stepped up to the mouth of the cave. Cool gusts of air hustled at the entrance, but the cave itself was dark and somewhat muggy; I could make out the vague shape and didn’t see any creatures who had lost their giant metal collar waiting in there to eat me, so I stepped off of the spongy grass, feet meeting the dusty cave floor. The furthest wall looked the most inviting (and least damp) so I slumped against it, back sliding down the smooth mounds of stone until I felt my butt hit the ground. The thumping pain from each bruise was making itself known, my shoulder and ankle loudest of all. Tilting my head back, I rested it against a bump in the stone, relaxing as I did.

  Click.

  My eyes flew open as the wall seemed to disappear from behind my back. I tumbled over, landing hard on another piece of stone that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. In the shadows, a flickering light buzzed to life, pulsing like it hadn’t been used in a while. Forcing myself upright, I realised that the wall had, in fact, disappeared. Well, swung to the side. Instead of cave, I was now faced with dark, slightly stale smelling air accompanied by a faint buzzing.

  I mean I’m kind of done with adventure for today.

  I was already on my feet. My body might have been done with adventure, but clearly my mind wasn’t. Hands extended into the darkness, I stepped in, following the flickering and the buzzing. The space got wider, the walls either side of me falling away, opening into a larger cavern. Fumbling, I grabbed a torch and shone it around in front of me.

  Maybe I’ve got a concussion.

  Instead of another chamber of the cave, as I had been expecting, I was greeted by what appeared to be a lab. Inside a cave. In the back and beyond of Scotland. Swinging the beam of the torch back across the walls I had just walked past, I noticed a small set of switches embedded in the stone. Hobbling over, I flicked them all on, waiting to hear any kind of reaction. Nothing.

  Were you really expecting them to work? I mean this place could be decades…

  The faint buzzing suddenly got louder, accompanied by a series of clicks, like machines turning themselves on. The flickering light on the ceiling slowed down, casting a tiny halo of light for a few seconds at a time. Then, with a loud whirring, the cave around me was flooded with light, bulbs that had been hidden in crags in the stone coming to life, casting bright LEDS across the room.

  What the hell is this place?

  I shuffled forwards, towards the centre of the room and the lab equipment abandoned there. Stainless steel tables supported microscopes and monitors, full of machines that I’d never seen before. As I reached the centre of the room I spun, trying to take it all in. At the far side, the room opened up into a cavernous ceiling, grey rock laying perfectly flat.

  Weirdly flat.

  Spurred by the need to figure this place out, I hurried over, placing a hand on the rock, looking for another button hidden somewhere, anywhere. The stone was cool beneath my palm, feeling almost damp but there was no actual water on it. I continued running my fingers along the smooth surface, but it remained unblemished, expanding at least fifty metres across. Eventually, the rock merged back into the craggy cave wall and as I reached it, I saw another switch hidden in the shadows. Stomach fluttering, I flipped it, hoping it opened another door whilst at the same time, really hoping it didn’t. Clanging noises filled the air, a rattling sound that groaned and wheezed. Painfully slowly, the flat piece of rock split in the middle, pulling back like a pair of curtains. I stepped backwards, hitting one of the tables, mouth open, as it continued to pull back, somehow disappearing into the cave wall. Behind the flat surface, glints of murky blue and green sparkled. My stomach dropped. Even before the wall had finished moving, I could see tiny schools of fish darting about behind a pane of glass. Kelp danced at the bottom, fronds floating on a watery breeze. There was no obvious end to the water, no outer wall that could be seen through the murky grey-blue depths. Every so often, the water lit up and seemed to vibrate.

  The storm. That’s the storm.

  I stepped up to the glass again, placing my hands on it, still unable to believe what I was seeing.

  “It’s the Loch.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, falling into the stagnant air around me for no one else to hear. As soon as I said it though, I knew it was true. Somehow, this lab, this underground cave lab, had a viewing window into the Loch. Lightheaded, I moved backwards again, arms searching for a chair, a table, somewhere to sit so I didn’t fall over. As I found another table, I felt something soft hit my palm. Turning around, I picked it up.

  A notebook?

  The leather was pliant under my fingers. Unwrapping the cord tied tight around it once, twice, three times, I let the front cover drop away over my wrist. My breath caught in my throat as familiar spiked handwriting, handwriting I hadn’t seen for three years, stared back at me. My fingers turned the pages, slowly at first, then faster until the writing became a blur, until I reached the back cover. A small sob worked its way up my throat as I stared at his name, scratched into the leather with a black BIC, the same place as always.

  Oh brother, what have you done?

  I looked around the lab again, then back at his notebook. He had been here. I was sure of it. Something akin to excitement washed over me, the realisation that I was this close to finding him; it was also the realisation that he was still alive. Or he had been when he was in here, and that couldn’t have been long ago given the lack of dust on the sparkling tables. Grinning, I took another look around the lab. I needed to find out where he had gone and maybe, whilst I was at it, what GAI
were actually involved in. My first step, I figured, was the notebook. Since it was here it meant it was probably one of his most recent ones and would maybe have some more information than the ones I had looked through.

  I pulled a metal stool out from under one of the benches, the legs screeching across the stone floor and sat on it, facing out into the Loch. The fact that they had installed a sliding wall into the cave indicated that the Loch, or something in it, was pretty important. I opened Eli’s notebook back at the first page, my hands loving the familiar feel of the soft leather. The first few pages were much the same as his other notebooks, more research into genetics but nothing specific; a few pages in however there was a break and then his writing began again, more scrawled and frantic than it had been before. I squinted at the pages, trying to decipher some of the letters that he had haphazardly strewn across the page. The first phrase I could identify was halfway down, next to a diagram of a DNA molecule.

  Transgenic animals.

  I’d never come across that phrase before and, as far as I knew, Eli hadn’t used it in any of his previous notebooks. I took another look at the DNA molecule, the vague recollections of secondary school science coming back to me and realised it didn’t look quite right. There seemed to be some gaps in the sequence, and some filled in with odd colours. Puzzled, I turned the page. There was another break, the blank pages stark white compared to the muddled scrawl of the previous. When I found more notes, it was easy to see another difference from Eli’s original writing. Most of his notebooks seemed to be a continuous stream of text, no breaks and no organisation but now, underlined in thick marker, was the title ‘Methods’. Underneath, bullet points dotted the page like gunshot wounds, the black ink bleeding out from its assigned circle.