The Colour of the Deep By William Meikle

[Ghastly McNasty]

Another story contributed by published author William Meikle. You can learn more about the man by visiting his website www.williammeikle.com/



The Colour of the Deep
By
William Meikle


He didn’t want to go in.

He had been

standing at the cave mouth for nearly ten minutes, his mind full of stories and phantasms.

Sawney Bean had spawned his brood and stashed the gruesome

relics of their cannibalism in a cave like this one. Robert the Bruce had pondered his own mortality and the future of Scotland in a cave just like this one -

there was even a spider just up there in the left hand corner. He’s come to the end of his childhood in a cave exactly like this one - the only difference was

that they were both thirty years older.

Inside all was dark and wet and cold and quiet, whereas out on the ledge it was warm and sunny and noisy with the

screeches of the gulls and the crashing of the waves and the bright sparkling dancing of the sun out on the green seas.

He really didn’t want to go in.

But Fiona made him do it all the same.

“You have got to face your fears,” she had said.

“You have got to come to terms with your inner self,” she

had said.

He had almost smiled at that but he knew she took her ‘new age’ philosophy seriously and it was a little too early in the relationship for

flippancy.

“You have to go in and stand up to it. A little dark won’t hurt you,” she had said. She didn’t know how wrong she was.

He just stood

and looked at the beckoning blackness of it while she got the equipment ready. Lights, ropes, backup lights, protective clothing, heavy, sensible shoes, even

the scuba gear - all the paraphernalia of the professional hole explorer fitted into two giant sized backpacks.

“Come on Dave - it won’t be so bad,” she

said. “Once we get inside you’ll enjoy it - just wait and see.”

She was still wrong. He should never have told her about his last encounter with the

caves - he knew she was the adventurous type, the pushy type, the type who wanted to see everything, do everything. Why couldn’t she just leave it alone. They

could have been snuggled up in front of the fire back at the hotel, warming each other with their bodies and sipping some fine whisky. Instead there they were,

standing outside a wet dank hole, about to retrace some childhood footsteps.

She helped him with the backpack - its weight settling heavy and clumsy and

overbearing on his shoulders. He’d suffered its bulk on the trip along the ledge but now the thought of it pressing down on him as he crawled through the

passages weighed heavy on his heart. He should never have told her the story.

“Are you ready?” she asked, tightening the straps at her shoulders and

giving them one final tug into place.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he muttered, then, raising his voice, he gave it one last try.

“We don’t have to

do this you know. I’ve survived for thirty years without it - I’m sure I could survive thirty more. Besides - people have got lost in these caves over the years

- and some of them never came out.

“Nonsense” she replied, turning away from him. “Besides - I’ve got lots of experience, we’ve come all this way, and

I’m curious.”

Without saying anything more she crouched down and headed into the blackness. He had one last long look around before following the

receding light into the dark. It was more cramped than in his childhood memories, the grey slimy walls barely a foot away on either side and it smelled - damp

and musty with more than a hint of rotting vegetation. He kept banging his head on the roof as he struggled to keep up with the bobbing light ahead of him and

soon he was knocking the backpack against the walls as the grey rock closed in and the faint rays of light from outside faded.

The last time he had ran.

Him and Gerry and John - the three musketeers, running gleefully into the blackness, one torch between them, shouting and screaming and laughing as they got

deeper into the dark. Three ten year old boys, on their school holidays, escaped from their parents and in search of adventure and excitement and maybe just a

little bit of terror - not much though, just enough to keep the stories going for a while to relieve the tedium of school.

They had ran far into the

cave, far enough that the light from outside was no longer visible, and then they had stopped and listened to their breathing, hot and heavy at first but dying

down to three light whispers as their breath came more easily.

The cave had always been the focus of rumours in the town, thought to harbour anything

from pirates to witches to sea monsters. And then there were the lights - the rainbow aurora which lit up the skies at least once a year and which the old folk

insisted came from the caves. It was an irresistible draw for young children and the boys were no exception.

It was the first time any of them had been

inside and he couldn’t remember what had brought them here, so far from the town. Gerry had the chocolate - that much he did remember vividly. Red hair,

freckles and at least two stones of excess fat brought about by a compulsion to eat anything that was offered to him, that was Gerry. The three of them had sat

in the torchlight and eaten two bars of chocolate, just before John had started playing silly buggers - just before the screaming started.

He was brought

out of his reverie with a jolt, a sudden jarring as he walked into the rucksack in front of him.

“It slopes away sharply here,” she said, her voice

echoing around them in rapidly diminishing whispers. She didn’t have to tell him. He remembered, only too well.

She moved aside to let him

see.

“Maybe you should go first,” she said. “That way you won’t take me with you if you fall.” She smiled as she said it, trying to make a joke, trying

to lighten the mood.

“OK” he replied, surprising both of them. He squeezed past her, feeling the heat of her body even through the several layers of

clothing between them.

He stole a quick kiss as he passed, even managing a smile of his own but his heart was pounding faster now and his palms were

greasy with sweat.

The rock proved to be firm underfoot and the gradient was not steep enough to bother him unduly. He was able to make his way down at a

steady pace without having to grab too often for handholds.

It was quiet apart from the gasps of their breathing and the shuffling of their feet but in

his mind he was replaying the sounds of years past.

“Bet you can’t find me,” John had said, just as they finished the last of the chocolate. Thirty years

later he could still hear the small click as the torch was switched off and the shuffle as John moved away in the darkness.

A small hand had grabbed his

upper arm causing him to give out a shriek of surprise. Gerry had been very frightened and his sobbing had been loud and echoing in the confines of the

cave.

“John. Come back,” he had said. “Gerry is scared. We’re going back out.”

There had been no reply and he had taken Gerry by the hand, hoping

that they were going in the right direction as they shuffled along, keeping their free hands brushing the walls. They had just noticed that they could see their

hands in front of them, that they were nearly out, when they heard the shouts behind them.

“Help,” John was shouting. “I’m stuck. Don’t leave me

here.”

Gerry hadn’t wanted to, but they had gone back in.

A hand touching his shoulder brought him back to the present with a start.

“Are

you OK” she asked, and he could now see the concern in her face. “It’s a bit late for that now - now that you’ve got me here,” he thought, but he managed a

tight little smile all the same.

“It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be” he said, but in his heart he knew that the worst was still to come.

Somewhere down there was the hole and he knew that she would want to go down, that she would want him to go down. He didn’t think he would make it.

They

had arrived at the bottom of the slope and found themselves in a more open area, about ten feet square, with two exits at the far side of the

chamber.

“Which way?” she asked, and he pointed to the left - that’s where John had been. He couldn’t be completely sure - they had come through here in

the pitch black the last time but he was pretty sure they had been following the left hand wall and had gone down the first entrance they came to.

She

went first, leaving him to have one last look round before following.

The walls were grey and faintly damp, the rock folded and convoluted, reminding

him of the surface of a naked brain.

What with the memories and the pain they brought back he felt he was on a journey which was taking him down through

his own mind, backwards, ever backwards, uncovering the layers like peeling a onion. He couldn’t really remember what happened at the core but he was afraid

that he was going to find out.

He turned and followed her down the corridor, watching her light alternatively illuminate then shade the wall as they went

deeper.

She spoke, shouting something back at him, but the voice he heard was a much younger one.

“Watch out,” the voice had said, and a sudden

light had lit up the darkness, seemingly coming from the floor of the corridor. “There’s a big hole and I can’t get back up.” The two boys had shuffled towards

the light and stood over the hole, looking down to see John’s pale face looking up at them from more than ten feet below.

“Are you hurt?” Gerry had

shouted, but it was obvious that John was all right. The sides of the wall looked smooth and there didn’t seem to be any handholds.

“Can you see any

other way out?” he had called, and the light had disappeared as John swung the torch around.

“There’s another entrance down here, and there’s a big pool

of water,” John called back. “Just stay there and I’ll go and have a look round.”

He had held tightly onto Gerry’s hand as the light disappeared again

and John moved away and they were left once more in the darkness.

He was almost surprised not to see two boys crouching there as Fiona’s light lit up the

hole.

“Hey” she said. “Wake up Dave. I asked if this was the one.

He felt disoriented, doubled, unsure whether he was the boy or the man. “I think

so” he replied. “But it’s hard to tell after all this time.”

She already had a hammer and spike in her hands.

“How in hell did you get down

there?” she asked. “The walls are sheer.”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Kneeling, she began pounding the spike into a small niche in the rock, the

clanging metallic noise ringing around in his ears long after she had stopped.

The rope she tied to the spike didn’t look strong enough to hold their

weight but she trusted herself to it as she lowered herself over the edge.

“Wait till I’m down then follow me,” she said as the top of her head passed

the rim of the hole. “I’ll give you a shout when I’m ready.”

“A shout,” he thought. That’s what happened the last time.

“Hey, you guys. Get down

here. This is amazing.” The light from the torch reappeared but there was something different about it, a rippling and shifting as it glowed through all the

colours of the rainbow and the walls seemed to melt in its glow. Gerry edges away backwards but another shout from John drew them closer to the hole. John was

there and he was excited. Words spewed out of him in a breathless rush.

“It leads out into a huge cave and there’s bats and skeletons and stuff - and

there’s lots of little caves - and there’s a hole, a deep one. There’s bound to be a way out and I want to explore. Come on.”

Gerry looked at him and he

looked at Gerry, neither of them wanting to make the decision, then John did it for them - he took the light away.

“Just let yourself drop down,” he said

as he moved away. “It’s not too far.”

Gerry and Dave were left in the dark. They took the decision together and together they dropped down into the

darkness, landing hard but managing to stay upright. It was still dark and there was no sign of John.

“Dave” a voice shouted and he shook his head to

banish the past. “Dave!” the shout came again, more insistent this time. “Get your butt down here.”

He went. Slowly, reluctantly, he made his way down,

gripping the rope till his knuckles were white. He’d come too far to back away from it now but he kept his eyes shut all the way down.

Near the bottom

his legs swung out into space and he felt Fiona’s hands steadying him as he lowered himself to the floor of the cave. His legs were unsteady, his whole body

trembling as he looked around, taking in the stalagmites, the dim luminescence and, of course, the pool.

Now that he was here it all came back to him,

like a scene from a film, playing over and over in his head. He sat down hard on a rock as his memories overwhelmed him.

They are standing in the dark,

hand in hand, straining to hear, eager for the slightest noise to tell them where John has gone. All they can hear is the drip of water into a pool to their

left and the occasional skittering of bats overhead.

“I’m scared” Gerry says, and Dave nods his head in agreement before he realises that Gerry can’t see

him.

“Me too,” he says, squeezing Gerry’s hand tighter to reassure him.

“John. Stop messing about” he shouts and the echoes whisper back to him

and more bats are frightened into flight around their head, their tinny cries echoing around the chamber.

Gerry cries out, hands striking out at the air

above them and screaming as a bat lands in his hair.

And then there is a scream and a heavy body comes out of nowhere with a loud giggle and knocks Dave

to his knees.

He is disoriented and doesn’t know which way he is facing as he pushes himself to his feet.

Gerry is still screaming and then there

is a sudden burst of light as John switches the torch on. He can see Gerry’s face, screwed up tight with tears streaming down his cheeks. John is talking,

trying to calm Gerry down.

“Hey” Come on Gerry. It was only a joke.”

He reaches out to touch Gerry’s shoulder and the red-haired boy jumps as if

prodded with a sharp stick. He lashes out a hand, catching John on the jaw and knocking him into Dave. Dave staggers, trying to keep his footing but his left

foot meets only air and his body tumbles over. There is a short fall, then a splash, and then he is fighting for breath as he is surrounded by freezing cold

water.

Dave tries to right himself then something catches his attention - a rainbow ball of sparkling light, coming up out of the depths, accelerating as

it comes, growing as it comes, sweeping past him and sending his body buffeting through the turmoil as he gasps and splutters and tries to breath.

He

manages to surface, just once, and he can see the torchlight. Gerry is standing over John’s body and doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to Dave. And then

there is something else - an aura of melding colours around Gerry’s head which swirls and swoops and then is gone. Except for the lights now dancing in the

boy’s eyes, the light which seems to be escaping directly from his brain.

Dave screams, “Gerry,” just before the current takers him and he is swept under

and he is being pulled, faster and faster through the water. He is knocked against rocks several times and his lungs are straining for breath but then the

current slows and he rises to the surface.

There is a light above him as he breaks through and takes a long deep breath. He is in a pool in one of the

many sea caves along the coast.

He shouts once more, “Gerry! John!” but there is no reply.

The other two boys were never found. A team of men from

the town had gone down to look for them but Dave couldn’t be persuaded to go with them.

He had spent the next two weeks in bed - silent, uncommunicative

and shivering, but by the time the school term came round he was up and about and, although quieter than before, life went on and the dreams faded.

He

never went near the cave again. Until now.

He was aware that he was being talked to and he managed to refocus his eyes to look up at Fiona.

“Jesus

Christ Dave. I thought you were having a fit or something.” She looked worried and Dave could see the tension lines at the corners of her eyes.

“I’m OK,”

he managed to say. “I’d forgotten how strong the memory was, that was all.” He managed to push himself up to his feet and turned to look around.

The

chamber was big and the walls glowed faintly green. The pool lay, silent and calm just to his left. he shivered, a sudden chill as he looked into it’s depth,

but there was nothing visible, only blackness.

“Come on” he said, “Let’s get out of here.” He headed for the cave opening to his right.

After a

short passage the cave opened out, becoming so big that Dave’s light could not penetrate as far as the walls. He felt a crunching beneath his feet and looked

down to find that he was walking on a bed of bones and fur and scales - the remains of hundreds of fish and small mammals.

He looked upwards and the

ceiling twenty feet above him was a writhing mass of squealing rustling bats.

He tried to move quietly, afraid of disturbing the horde above him and he

could hear Fiona moving quietly behind him.

There was another pool here, this one a bubbling, frothing cauldron. He stopped at a rock by the pool-side to

let Fiona catch up.

“OK. What now Superman?” she said as she approached. He looked over at her and smiled, just as the rock hit her on the side of the

head, knocking her sideways and bringing a spray of blood from her nose. She fell to the ground at his feet, eyes staring blindly upwards.

There was

sound to his left, a slapping as of wet cloth on rock. He turned towards it and his torch lit up a nightmare.

It’s skin was grey, a mottled grey which

looked as if mould was growing directly onto the arms and bare chest. The mouth was red and almost toothless in the midst of a mass of matted beard.

The

black gaps showed clearly as it smiled at him, big blue eyes twinkling.

A mop of red hair fell down over its shoulders and Dave could see that Gerry

still had some of his freckles.

It was only when the eyes looked directly at him he could see the lights, the green and the golds and the silver, all

dancing and cavorting. And then Gerry’s body trembled, a shiver that passed through his whole body as the lights spread out from his head and the bats swooped

from their perches to fill the air with their terror.

Dave was rooted to the spot, unable to move as the thing shambles closer to bend over Fiona’s body

and the lights flowed across the space between them, seeking him out. The last thing he remembered before the colours took him was that Gerry always ate

anything that was put before him.

That night the townspeople saw the lights in the sky and the older ones among them closed their doors and shivered by

their fires until the skies were quiet once more.