20th June - The Thing in the Well
The early morning mist is slowly starting to lift and the day is beginning to look hopeful. The lush green field sways with dewy morning grass and there is a damp, fresh smell in the air. I take my first step off of the path, enjoying the change from hard gravel to soft, suctioning mud. Sir Daniel is already waiting for me by the well, hands clasped behind his back, eyes to the horizon. My approach is slow and slightly laboured, the ground sticking to my feet with every squelching pace.
“Mr Gaddis, glad you could join me,” he calls loudly without moving.
“Sir!” I respond, slightly out of breath.
“I trust you are well.” He turns. His fine, fitted clothes are out of place here, his only concession to our locale his large rubber boots that reach up to his knees. His left arm is resting on his lower back, his right hand on his hip, fidgeting absently with a cigarette. His back is straight and he watches me impassively as I close the rest of the distance between us.
“Sir,” I huff again as I drop my bag next to the well. He turns back to face the wrecked structure. Once a large and well-maintained water-hole that supplied the old hamlet nearby, the well is now little more than a gaping wound in the earth.
“So what's down there?” I ask, peering into the darkness. Noises echo from the well, faint but still audible.
“I am not sure,” replies Sir Daniel. “Have you got a light?”
“Of course, Sir, here,” I turn from the well and hurriedly pat my clothes looking for my matches. Eventually I find them sequestered in my breast pocket. I strike one and hold it to his mouth as he puffs carefully. “Forget your lighter Sir?”
“Hmm?” he inhales absently then pulls back as the tip catches. He takes a long drag and exhales in a cloud of smoke.
“The nice silver piece that your sister gifted you? You showed it to me last month at the village festival,” I prompt carefully.
“Oh, that. Lost it, I should imagine,” he says. I shake the match out and drop it. “It started a few days ago, from what I've been able to ascertain,” he says, daintily flicking the quick-burning ash from the end of his cigarette. “Probably just one of the stock that has fallen in.” I decide not to pursue the lighter, despite my curiosity.
“And you want me to fish it out for you?” I finish his train of thought, hoisting the looped rope more comfortably on my shoulder. “That explains the equipment then,” I nod toward the laden bag at my feet. He nods too, taking a quick drag.
“Quite.” He flicks again. “Please deal with it quickly and with minimum fuss.”
I peer into the depths again. The stench almost makes me recoil. My face wrinkles in disgust.
“Definitely smells like a few days it's been down there. It would be easier with some help, Sir, couldn't I ask some of the hands?” The well is deep to the point of disappearing into murky darkness. My finger plays a quick tattoo on the rope as I consider the best way to set up my pulleys and anchors. “I'm not entirely sure I could even bring up whatever fell down by myself.”
“No,” Sir Daniel replies brusquely. “I can't spare anyone today. You're on your own.”
“Very well, Sir. I'll get it done.” I incline my head slightly, worried my tone wasn't quite deferential enough. He nods again and disposes of his cigarette with a deft motion of his finger. It lands at his feet and he grinds it into the mud. He stands for a moment, hands disappearing into his pockets, and looks around with a bored expression. Then he sniffs and sets off slowly across the field. He doesn't look back.
I set to work unpacking my tools: metal rods and tubes, cranks and sockets. I lay them all beside the hole to the quiet, echoing rustling of whatever poor creature had survived the fall. The sounds continue as I set up my cross-bars over the mouth of the hole, snuffles and low grunts that reverberate up from the dark. As I work, the stench increases to the point where I'm forced to tie my handkerchief over my mouth. It doesn't help much. I finish quickly and tie the rope around me in a makeshift harness, attaching the other end to the pulleys. I give the whole thing a few sharp tugs. It settles into the mud but doesn't give way. Everything is ready.
I stand at the lip of the hole trying to pierce the darkness below. Now that it's time to descend, I feel my resolve waver. The smell, the sounds – there's something that isn't right but I don't know what. There's nothing except an irrational fear of the dark. It's colouring my perception: the grunts are simply those of a trapped, pained beast, the smell a natural by-product of the animal being stuck for a few days.
I climb over the side, lowering myself carefully into the rough, slippery shaft. My feet, pushed against the wall, slide about and then sink softly into the mud. I pay the rope out a little and pull my feet from the sludge, descending in little squelching hops. I lose the light unnervingly fast. Looking up, the sky is nothing but a small circle. I still can't see the floor below me, only darkness. I let more of the rope slide through my fingers and drop a little further. The stench is now almost unbearable, like nothing I've ever smelt before. I'm forced to stop as my head swims. I try to gather my wits.
The rope slips from my hands and before I can grab it I'm falling. For a sickening moment I'm dropping, staring up at the tiny hole of light above me. Then I hit the floor with a heavy splash, my fall broken by thick, viscous mud.
I lie still for a moment, heart pounding, but instantly regret the decision as I start to sink into the slime. I hastily push myself to my feet. My panicked senses start to flood back and I gag on the smell. I start heaving and almost end up back in the mud. It's cold this far from the light, and my wet body starts to shiver involuntarily. I still can't see. I fumble quickly for my matches – miraculously they're dry and I quickly light one, holding it up hopefully against the dark. It doesn't help much, but at least I can almost make out my surroundings. The shaft I fell from is directly above me, from there the ceiling extends outwards and I cannot see any walls around me. It could be cavernous or just out of sight. My eyes are drawn to the floor. The mud is a dull red in hue, obviously thick with clay of some kind. I suddenly realise there's no water.
There's a sharp pain on my fingers and I quickly drop the match. Darkness once again. I look up again at the faraway-sky, unnerved. I try to decide what to do. I could go up right away, escape the clammy wet darkness and come back some other time with proper torches and hopefully more help. Or I could impress Sir Daniel by getting the job done in good time. Remembering my purpose I realise there's no sound around me. The silence suddenly becomes oppressive and I almost climb straight back up. My hand pulls on the rope when my eye is caught by a faint glow in the distance. I stop, brow furrowing. I almost don't believe my eyes, but the darkness is so complete that a normally dim light is glaringly obvious. I take a step towards it without even thinking. Then another, and before I can even worry about finding the rope out again I'm trudging through the sticky ground towards the mysterious light-source.
It's tough going. While I can see the light in the distance, it doesn't illuminate anything as far out as I am. I'm questing forward through the treacherous mud, flailing occasionally to maintain my balance as my feet get stuck. I hear the snuffling again, its sudden resurgence bringing my heart to my throat and my laboured movement to a brief halt. It's difficult to tell in the echoing chamber, but the noises seem to be coming from the direction I'm heading in. I continue walking. As I approach, the distant light starts to take on a bluish-hue. I suddenly notice that I'm walking easier and I stop to examine the ground. It's still too dark to see so I strike another match. Impossibly, I find that I'm standing on brick. I hadn't noticed because of the thin glaze of mud that softened my footfall. I take advantage of the match to take another quick look around at my surroundings, but get no further than before. I cannot see any walls, only darkness and the floor. This time I drop the match before it burns me, then I set off towards the siren-glow. The smell is worse. I'm getting closer to its source. It's a putrid smell of decay, likely from the expiration of whatever fell down.
Suddenly, My feet catch against something and I fall face-first onto the floor. I instantly regret the lack of thick mud as pain lances through my chest and arms from the awkward tumble. I roll onto my back and fish out my matches once more. I strike one. Something that sounds big scurries nearby. I drop the match in fright. My eyes rove the dark looking for any sign of the creature. There is nothing but the immaterial wall of darkness that still surrounds me. I wait, still and listening, but there are no more sounds. Remembering my original purpose for lighting the match I shuffle forward and try to shine the light over what tripped me.
My insides freeze, my breath catching in my throat. I tripped over a leg. A human leg. I follow its length with the match and find the rest of the body hidden in the dark. My stomach revolts and I have to quickly duck away. I drop the match as I'm sick and fall back into darkness. My stomach empty, I take a moment to recover, eyes closed to momentarily forget the dark. Then I strike another match and take a closer look at the corpse.
It's a woman, mauled viciously, as if something had been chewing on her. Stringy, ripped flesh has been flayed from her face. Dried, matted blood holds the mess together in a glistening mass. She looks familiar, perhaps one of the mothers from the small village nearby. There's a small glint above her head as something catches the light. I move the match upwards. It's a ring, reflecting the blaze of the match. A ring on a finger. I follow the hand up and find another corpse in the same state. My breath stops again as the face is illuminated. Despite the rot, I know this woman. Her name is Mary. I saw her only yesterday. I'm forced to turn away again as my stomach churns.
I cannot go back, need to go forward. I will never find the rope again, stupid. I won't be able to take the bodies with me, I'll have to come back. I look around for the glow and find it easily in the distance. I can't hear the animal any more, but now I just need to get out. I'll explain to Sir Daniel later. I'm more cautious now, paying attention to my feet and moving slower to prevent another trip. I can hear more than before, perhaps through prolonged inability to see. I can hear the slow drip of water all around. It serves only to increase the pressure of the silence. I move forward almost comically, head cocked to the side to better hear what might be in front.
My foot catches against something on the floor again. I stiffen for the impact, but instead hear something metallic clatter away. I must have kicked something. I follow the sound and search around carefully with my foot, eventually locating a solid object. I grab at my matches once more and strike one. Crouching down to inspect my find, I see a small, dulled silver rectangle. I reach out, pick it up and try to rub some of the grime off it. As I do so, I recognise the initials “D.G” embossed on the front of the case.
It's a lighter. Sir Daniel's lighter. I quickly pocket it – at least I'll have something for my employer and not just tales of the dead.
I straighten up and drop the match. To my surprise I can still vaguely see the floor. I'm a lot closer to the glow than I had thought. I realise I can move faster, squinting at the floor to mind my step. I move at a fast walk, splashing through the thin, watery mud covering the brick floor. Gradually, my surroundings are brightening, but I can still barely see. There are no walls nearby, it must be some kind of huge subterranean cavern. Suddenly the glow ahead blinks as if something moved past it blocking the light momentarily. I freeze. There's definitely something down here with me. I instinctively lower my body slightly as if to hide and creep forward. Then I hear the scuttling noise again, behind me this time. I run, heart thumping. I can see well enough now to avoid potential pitfalls and I sprint towards the soft blue light in the distance. The thing behind me is panting and grunting, terrifyingly close. Getting closer, its rhythmic clatter like hundreds of large claws angrily hitting the brick. It's a desperate sound that reeks of hunger. My fear lends me strength, and I can now see the light getting visibly nearer.
Suddenly, I see the edge of the underground chamber looming ahead. The light is coming from a crack directly ahead of me. Impossibly, I speed up, desperate for safety. I feel breath on my neck and blowing past my face in great, grunting exhalations. My blood runs cold despite my exertion.
I feel little tendrils slapping my back and I can't help screaming. It's only a little further to the hole. I approach at breakneck speed, washed in the blue glow from the crack. The thumping, clattering monstrosity behind me grasps at the back of my jacket. I cross through, barely making it. I run a few more paces, heart skipping and collide into the back of the small side-cave. The noises chasing me end abruptly.
I land hard, dazed. I roll painfully onto my back, gasping and spluttering. Lying still on the ground I strain my ears for any sound of my hunter. As I'd hoped, it seemed it couldn't fit through the crack. Or wouldn't. I open my eyes quickly and push myself into motion, scuttling to a wall. With my back safe I examine the rest of the chamber. It's small, about the size of an average room and the walls are almost completely covered in some kind of luminous fungus. The floor in here is still brick, but the sides of the cave seem like natural rock. My eyes settle finally on the last point of interest in the room. There's another body, resting against the wall opposite me. Bracing myself for the pain of movement, I shuffle slowly over to the corpse. No doubt whoever it was is dead: there's not much left of the chest or stomach area. Half the face seems to have been chewed as well. I drag myself up next to the carcass, now immune to the putrid smell. My eyes widen as I get a clear look at the identity of the dead man.
It's Sir Daniel, but he's been dead for days judging by the state of the corpse. My mind rails against the impossibility. I search in my pocket for the lighter, pull it out and hold it up to the light. It's definitely the same lighter. It slips from my hand and I sink to the floor, my strength ebbing. I can feel my sanity bending, the dark, the hunter, the dead all pushing against my reality.
“Henry Gaddis?” I spin, almost falling in fright. A silhouette steps from the large cavern. I blink, trying to clear my sight. It's not possible.
“Is that you, Henry Gaddis?” the shadow asks again. I nod mutely, trying to stand. The figure steps fully into the luminous blue light and I give up trying to stand. I slump in disbelief.
“Oh good, I've been looking for you,” says the thing with my face.
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