William Meikle: The Hole

Doc stopped.

“I think I know now what is going on here.”

“Auld Nick. That’s what’s going on here,” Bill said. “Demons and devils and bloody murder.”

“I’m not so sure,” Doc said. “Remember, I saw aliens, and Charlie saw VC. I think the Hopmans only saw demons and the devil because that’s what they wanted to see. And because they’ve been communicating with the thing for so long, it has become… imprinted , for want of a better word, with the pattern of their thoughts and desires.”

“Thing?” Charlie asked. “What kind of thing do you have in mind, Doc? I don’t remember seeing anything like this on the National Geographic channel. Do you?”

Doc smiled grimly.

“I believe it’s something new to science. Maybe something new in terms of the geological timeline. It’s an organism, of a kind, but it’ll take better minds than mine to fathom its secrets.”

“That’s all very well, Doc,” Fred said. “But what do we do about it? How do we get out of here?”

“I may have an idea about that,” Doc replied. At that precise instant, a voice spoke from the shadows.

Weemean.

Three figures stood in an alcove, wavering and flowing, the only steady facet of them being the red, staring eyes.

Charlie moved immediately; one second he was sitting next to Fred, the next he was on his feet, weapon pointed at the alcove, washing bands of light into the shadows. The demons melted back into the darkness.

“If you’ve got a plan, Doc, I suggest we get to it,” he said. “I’m getting proper squirrelly down here.”

Doc frowned.

“Loath as I am to say it, I think we should attempt a ritual.”

Big Bill was first to reply.

“I ain’t about to get involved in any of that satanic stuff, Janet. No way, no how. We’d be putting our souls at risk.”

“Then we die here,” Doc said quietly. “I don’t see another way.”

“We make a run for it,” Sarah replied. “We’ve got the guns and the light… and there’s all that gasoline outside. Surely we could do something with that?”

Charlie, who had started to pace the floor, went still, thinking.

Weemean.

This time the chant came from all around. Shadows crept in all the corners, danced in the alcoves. A dozen pairs of red eyes stared out of the dark.

“Get into the pentagram,” Doc shouted. “It’s our only hope.”

Charlie had other ideas. He grabbed Ellen Simmons’ hand and headed for the iron door. Fred looked at the diagram on the floor, and the shifting red figures that even now crept closer from the shadows. Doc had already stepped into the circle, and Fred saw that the sheriff was loath to leave.

“Come on, Bill. Charlie’s got a plan.”

The sheriff stood, halfway between the door and the pentagram, indecision freezing him to the spot. Fred was equally torn, between Bill, and Charlie, both of whom were the only two real friends he had in the world.

Sarah settled the matter for him. She tugged at his hand, dragging him towards the door.

“I ain’t staying here to be ate by no bears,” she said.

Fred gave in.

“Come with us,” he said as they passed the sheriff.

But Big Bill was still in the same spot as Fred and Sarah ran through the door. Fred hit it hard in passing and it swung shut behind him with a clang that sounded like a death knell.

“Bill, come here,” Janet said. “Into the protection.”

She stood in the circle, frantically trying to find a page in the journal. She’d seen it earlier, but had failed to note its position relative to other passages.

And now, when I need it, I can’t find it.

She sensed movement, looked up. Red eyes stared back at her from the alcoves and shadows. The neon light above flickered and dimmed, just slightly, but more than enough to allow the demons to creep farther into the chamber.

“Bill!” she shouted, more insistent this time. That got the sheriff moving, but still he refused to step into the circle, choosing instead to walk the perimeter, washing light into the dark places. It was obvious to Janet that he wouldn’t be able to do enough to keep the things at bay for long.

“Sheriff,” she shouted again. “Get your ass in here. I need you if we’re going to help the others escape.”

The appeal straight to his duty worked. Bill waved the light into the corners one final time, then stepped over the grooved outer circle to join Janet inside the pentagram.

The demons crowded forward into the chamber, flowing and melting in the light, but the sheer bulk of them were pressing more and more of their viscous material through. Very quickly, the etched circle was surrounded.

Their path to the iron door, their route of escape, was completely blocked.

We have no way out.

Fred led Sarah away from the tunnel mouth. Charlie was already there, washing beams of light across a small army of demons that danced and capered around the edge of the fiery pit . He was doing enough to keep them at bay, for now.

“Fetch the gas,” Charlie shouted. “As much as you can get, as quick as you can get it.”

Fred headed up the tunnel to where the gas was stored. There was just enough light to see the stacked containers.

Sarah still stood at his side.

“You’ll have to let go of me, darlin’,” he said. “Just for a bit. But I promise, I ain’t going nowhere without you.”

The girl let go, moved away… and started lugging a gas canister, having to half carry, half drag it across the floor. Normally Fred would have helped her out. But Charlie had been insistent.

“Get a move on, lad,” the older man shouted from out in the main cavern. “I ain’t gonna be able to hold them for long.”

Fred looked up the tunnel; the one that they would have to use to escape. The walls showed signs of scorching where the flare had burned and raged, but there were no shifting shadows and no demons .

Not yet.

Fred lifted and carried in three separate short journeys with Sarah at his side. When they got back from the third trip, it was to find Ellen Simmons pouring the gas on the rock at her feet. The liquid slid downhill in a short stream that made a large puddle at the feet of the dancing demons and was already on the verge of overflowing and tumbling into the pit.

“Fire in the hole,” Charlie shouted, and flicked his lighter alit.

Just as he threw it into the stream of gas, they heard high chanting rise from inside the bunker , coming clear even through the iron door.

Janet found the ritual in the journal just as the growing pool of gloop on the floor crept within inches of the outer protective circle. She stuttered over the first words, but found a rhythm that seemed apt, and almost sang out the unfamiliar sounds.

“ Ri linn dioladh na beatha, Ri linn bruchdadh na falluis, Ri linn iobar na creadha, Ri linn dortadh na fala.”

It was as if they stood inside a giant bell. The chamber rang and resonated, echoing the ritual back at her, amplifying and enhancing it until a whole chorus of voices joined in the chanting. Bill surprised her by lending his own voice to the effort. He moved beside her and put an arm around her waist as they chanted.

The gloop retreated away from the edges of the circle.

This might actually work.

The flame ran across the cavern floor and the nearest group of demons went up in a whoosh of heat and light and screaming. Fred felt a burst of burning air in his face, and smelled burnt hair at the same time as he felt his eyebrows curl. He turned his face away as the flash threatened to blind him, and when he looked back, there was no sign of any demons around the crater. Gray smoke rose from burning tissue; all that was left of the things that had stood there seconds earlier.