Hellspawn Odyssey (16 page)

John and Kurt crawled into the small opening and climbed. The face of the brickwork was illuminated and Kurt started to hammer away at the barrier. Hopefully the noise of the fire and collapse would help to mask some of the dull thuds of the tool. John watched while holding the lantern over Kurt’s shoulder to help him. The glass door on the lantern had opened on the ascent and the flame started to waver, flopping around inside the vessel. Goosebumps rose on his arm with a cold breeze that washed over the exposed skin. John frowned, there was no opening yet, so the air should be still. Kurt wasn’t swinging with sufficient force to cause a draft of that power. Looking to his right there was a small section of wall that was crumbling. It didn’t match the surrounding stonework of the tunnel, so John poked at the cement, which fell away, increasing the cold air.

“Kurt, stop. Look at this.” John showed his son, who then swung the hammer at the older surface. The wall crumbled, exposing another small tunnel into the surrounding ground.

“Do you think this is it?” Kurt asked, ecstatic they may have a safer means of escape.

“Sam, you were right,” called John. “We have found the smuggler’s tunnels.”

“I told you they were here!” he called out excitedly.

Kurt crawled forward, the air of ages swept past him now that the area was clear. It was faintly unpleasant and he held his nose. It was the smell of decay, but thankfully not the decay of flesh. That scent was now so well-known they could detect it easily, like a bloodhound. After a short distance, the tunnel dipped downwards, dropping several feet lower before opening up into a wider storage area.

“Come through, it’s safe,” he called out and their bags were passed down. The family joined him in the small cave, surveying the scene with interest. The room was twelve foot square, with a low ceiling. Most of the group had to crouch within the confines.

“People were shorter back then, they would have been fine in here,” Sam told them.

Wooden struts were wedged at intervals across the area and then continued into the tunnel that led from the room. The air was rank with the smell of mould, the timber was moist and where Kurt touched it, soft with decay.

“We need to be careful, or it could all come down,” he said, leaving it alone.

In the corner were a dozen green bottles, still corked and containing a dark liquid. A few wooden barrels were broken in the corner. The damp air, coupled with the alcohol inside, had corroded the wood, leaving the rusted iron cask bands behind. They resembled a stack of rotten wedding rings, suitable only for the dead.

“What is that?” Braiden asked with awe. Against a wall stood an ancient rifle, merging into the wall itself with the passage of time. The long barrelled gun was a flintlock type, old and valuable if it had not been in such poor repair. Laid next to it was a pistol, similarly corroded and becoming one with the floor. The young boys couldn’t help but let their imagination run wild, who had held these weapons? Smugglers, criminals, highway robbers? The romance of the era was compelling. Not the romance of love, but of the outlaw. The adventure of being outside the law, always running, dodging the gallows for the next big score. The reality had probably been far less thrilling, the existence had often been hard and ended with a short drop with a hemp rope around the neck.

“Wow,” Sam uttered and tried to pick up the guns. They just crumbled in his hands and a look of disappointment crossed the boy’s faces.

“They have been down here a long time,” Paige commiserated.

“Dad, do you have the compass?” Kurt asked John who reached into the backpack and withdrew the small plastic instrument. The needle swung wildly, before settling on north.

“We don’t have a proper map unfortunately, only Sam’s handout sheet from school. But if these tunnels are like a spider web, we should be able to head north-east as much as possible and reach the pub by the hospital. As long as we maintain the right heading we can’t go wrong. My only concern is the fragility of the tunnel supports, there may well be cave-ins that we will need to go around,” John told them. A roar of devastation bounced through the small hole they had crawled through, the pub had fully collapsed and fallen into the cellar. Small cracks started to form in the ceiling of the cave, dropping soil onto their heads.

“Move it, into the tunnel!” Kurt whispered urgently, ushering them away from the crumbling danger. The mouldy wood started to sag, no longer able to support the weight of the dirt it held aloft.

They filed down the narrow tunnel, careful to avoid the remaining struts, lest they snap like toothpicks and crush them in an avalanche of soil. After fifty feet the rumbling subsided and the worst of the settling was over. Kurt slowly walked back and the room, plus about twenty feet of tunnel was now cut off, buried beneath a thousand tonnes of crumbled earth.

“Fucking marvellous, now we are trapped in here.” Mike was sweating and fear cast a pall over his face.

“Mike’s claustrophobic,” Jodi explained.

“Yeah, so what? It’s like being in a coffin down here.” His breathing was becoming ragged, gasps instead of proper inhalations.

“Mike, calm down. You will have a panic attack,” Jodi cautioned, trying to make him see sense.

Debbie was watching with concern. Mikes face was going red from the lack of oxygen and he was close to breaking point. He would flee headlong down the tunnel and careen off of the walls, killing them all. Sarah stepped forward and took his face in her hands.

“Mike, look at me.
Look at me
!” she shouted, gaining his attention. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

Kurt looked at the ceiling with trepidation but the echoes of the yell died and nothing fell onto them. Mikes eyes were still wild, looking round for a means of escape that didn’t exist.

“No, here. Look here,” Sarah continued, meeting his gaze, “That’s good, now keep the breathing slow and steady. That’s better, nice and slow.”

Mike’s face was returning to a healthy colour. He closed his eyes and continued the breathing, slowing his heart which galloped like a stallion inside his chest. The rest of the group had been gripped by their own fear at the near meltdown of Mike. The reality of their subterranean endeavour impressed it upon them fully. They would have to move slowly and carefully, assessing each step.

“I’m ok now. Thanks,” Mike said begrudgingly. He didn’t see John put away the hatchet that he had pulled out, ready to stop a crazed outburst with one swing. Debbie, however, had seen it and would bring it up later when they were alone. Her poisonous mind was fabricating plans on dividing them so she could have Mike to herself. If she could take some revenge at the same time; that would be the icing on the cake.

They moved in a steady line, Kurt ahead with one lantern, and John following behind with the other. The torches would have been better for lighting the way, however, the flame served an extra purpose. If the oxygen had dropped to a dangerous level, the flame would falter and die, allowing them to retreat and find another route. Much like the canaries that would be taken into the coal mines back in the day; if the bird had fallen an alarm had been raised to evacuate the shaft.

“Everyone ok? How you holding up Mike?” Kurt asked, looking back. He wanted to repair some of the damage their arguments had caused, but he only received a grunt in reply. It looked like both he and Debbie would have to part ways with the others at some point soon.

“How about you Peter?” Gloria continued. He was being assisted by John who held him up with an arm around his waist and Peter’s arm over John’s shoulder.

“I’ll survive,” he answered, wincing with each step.

They had been travelling for about five minutes when they came across a weakened section of tunnel. The timber had broken free and some of the ground had cascaded down, partially blocking their route. Kurt looked back and held a finger to his lips; even noise could bring the remaining weight down on them. He stepped through, ensuring no contact was made with the fragile walls. Turning to light the way, the others followed safely. When it was John
’
s turn, Debbie was nearly crazed with conflicting emotions; she could bury the bastard right now, in front of his family. But there was no guarantee the whole passage wouldn’t follow suit. She opted for caution, reining in her murderous impulse and moving clear.

Ten more minutes of careful travel and they came across the first open area that provided eight more tunnel branches to take, excluding the one they had arrived from. The space was much larger, over twenty feet wide and twelve long. The supports were thicker and more frequent, spaced much closer than anything they had seen before.

“This must be where they would store stuff and sleep, look.” Sam’s finger pointed out perished blankets. He toed the fabric and it disintegrated instantly, turning to dust.

More items were stacked haphazardly, bottles and boxes. Mike picked up a bottle and smashed the neck, sniffing at the contents. He recoiled and threw it into the corner with disgust.

“Whatever it was, it smells like rotten eggs and vinegar now,” he said. The smell was spreading and the others moved away, seeking fresher air.

“Dad, what’s that?” Sam pointed at a pile of black chippings and powder in the corner. They had spilled from a barrel that had weakened over time. “Coal, maybe?”

“I doubt it. They wouldn’t transport coal in barrels,” Kurt mused. Gloria grabbed at Kurt’s wrist as he held the lantern out to get a better look at the material.

“I think we should keep away from that. If I am not mistaken, it is gunpowder,” she warned.

“Oh shit!” Kurt backed away, respectful of the potential for a detonation from the volatile material.

“Dumbass,” muttered Debbie.

“Sorry,” Kurt shrugged, letting the slight go. He had been a dumbass.

“Which way now?” Sarah asked and John looked at the compass.

“That is the most north easterly tunnel, we should try that one first,” he answered. “I’ll take the lead now, ok?”

“Go for it,” replied Kurt.

They all followed the older man as he ducked through the entrance. It became surreal and monotonous. The underground shaft stretched into the distance, seemingly infinite. Timber, then rooted soil, timber, and then rooted soil, the pattern never changed. Mike was struggling again and only Sarah seemed to be able to keep him from freaking out. He resented that fact, fuelling the hatred in his heart. A pungent odour became apparent, the smell of sewage wafted down towards them on the air current. Rounding a bend, they saw that the floor was inches deep in fetid, stinking water. The yellow tinge and astringent scent told them it was stale urine. The wall to the left oozed unspeakable liquids. Small mushrooms and fungi grew on the disgusting, but bizarrely nourishing, mix of water and human waste.

“That’s awful,” complained Debbie, holding her arm to her nose, trying to dilute the smell.

“There must be a sewer close to the tunnel,” guessed John.

“I’m not walking through that!” Debbie said adamantly.

“We don’t have a choice,” sighed John, carefully stepping through the noxious water.

“You are totally useless, aren’t you?” Mike taunted her, pulling a face of derision.

“Fine, fuck it,” she declared and splashed through like a child in a puddle, drenching her shoes and inner legs. “Happy?”

Mike grinned at the power he had over the woman.

“Come on, let’s get to our destination. If this is the right way and we have been walking at about three miles an hour, we should be there in about fifteen minutes,” John told them all.

“Gross, it’s soaking through my socks,” Debbie moaned, gagging at the smell she was giving off.

“Tough, you shouldn’t have stomped through like a cry-baby,” Mike laughed. She looked on the verge of tears again, eyes reddening the same shade as her bruised face.

“We can get you a change of clothes as soon as we get above ground,” Gloria offered. She could feel the tension rising and Mike teasing the unstable girl could only end badly. The small act of kindness acted as a safety valve and Debbie was appeased, turning to follow John.

They moved silently for five minutes but they came across a problem, the tunnel had collapsed where thick roots had grown around the supports and crushed them. They couldn’t try digging through, the earth looked too unstable. As they watched another small clod fell away and joined the growing hill on the passage floor.

“What a great plan this turned out to be,” Mike mocked them.

“No problem, we go back and find another way,” said Kurt. He was starting to lose his patience with the constant sniping.

“My arse is killing me, no thanks to that cunt. I’m not going anywhere until I’ve rested,” he informed the others. Braiden grinned and fingered the screwdriver by his side.

“Fine, stay here. But we are going.” Kurt handed a small torch to him but Mike just batted it away and it broke on the floor.

“Come on.” John pushed Kurt past Mike and the rest started to trace their way back, following them. Mike and Debbie cursed and then caught up, scheming in their inner minds.

**********

Kurt recognised the fractured beam that was close to the subterranean bed chamber. He faltered in his step, holding his hand in the air. Moans echoed from the walls, masking the true numbers that were approaching in the tunnels. Their conversations must have brought them; the darkness had probably slowed their advance or they would have already fallen over the dead.

“Which way are they coming from? The pub collapsed!” John asked, looking at the random openings that awaited them.

“The sound isn’t coming from that way. There must be a breach somewhere else in the tunnel system. We can’t fight them down here. We will be buried alive,” reasoned Sarah, listening intently.

Kurt was thinking quickly, his mind free of the fear for now. They only had one choice; the sewers. “Go back, I will wait here and stop them with the gunpowder. Break through where the smell is, it will be a drainage tunnel at this depth. It will be horrible, but it will take us to the surface. I will be right behind you,”

“Be careful,” warned John, hugging his son. Sarah and the boys did the same, afraid but no longer trying to prevent Kurt doing what needed to be done.

Their footfalls came back to him from the tunnel for a few minutes, to be gradually replaced by the increasing volume of walking horrors. Kurt flicked his Maglite on, shining it down the various openings. They poured from one of the entrances across from Kurt. Seeing their prey for the first time their arms raised in anticipation of feeding. Kurt spat on the floor and tossed the lantern underarm at the spilled explosive, before turning and running. Even as the burning torch was spinning, passing the putrid zombies, Kurt was sprinting. The glass broke, spilling the kerosene, which burst into flame a fraction of a second before the gunpowder exploded. The zombies were blown to pieces and then buried under countless tonnes of settled dirt. Kurt was running for all he was worth, feeling the chain reaction of implosion that he had triggered. The rumbling went on and on, deafening him and drowning out his laboured gasps as he ran, accompanied by crazed torchlight from his pinioning arms. The way ahead grew brighter with the glow of the second lantern.

“Run Kurt,
Run
,” called Sarah from the freshly formed hole in the wall. Piles of brickwork and mud lay covering the urine pool and his wife reached out from their new vantage point in the sewer. She could see the falling tunnel as it crept ever closer to her husband’s heels, it would be a miracle if he made it. Against all odds, a support that was slightly less rotten than the rest, held for a second before splintering into a hundred slivers of wood. Sarah held out her arms and Kurt jumped through into the quagmire of human excrement just in time, a cloud of dust burst from the hole and engulfed them. The roar of the passage collapse faded as it continued onward, finally reaching the blockage and stopping.