Idlebones

Escape Part 3

December 30, 2006 – 3:18

 

 

Sid’s Candle flickers in his hand as I step behind him into the tunnel. His hand is shaking, I can tell. Maybe just from the cold, i tell myslef. It’s icy down here, and the rank musty smell of stale air pervades our senses until we have to bury our heads up to our noses in the warm collars of our coats. My breath steams through the material, dampening it against my mouth as I follow him down the narrow passage way. Sids’ outline in hunched beneath the yellow arc of the candle as it lights the damp stone walls for the first time in decades. They seem to glisten as he passes. I still have the image of that pale face in my mind, and I follow him closely, stealing furtive glances over my shoulder to the dimishing outline of the entrance every few steps. The ground is firm, but uneven. We take short searching steps, my hand on his shoulder for balance.

“You’ve got more juice in that lighter, right?” I say through my collar, aprehension billowing in quick, swirling breaths in the candle light,  as the darkness begins to fold in on us from all sides, what little light from the cellar now gone.

“loads” Sid replys, his voice muffled, and, I think to myself, nervous.

“Can’t see a feckin’ thing. How long you reckon this is?” he asks

I try to imagine the scene overhead. The Church walls, the boundary fence, then the wide main street that disects the town from the graveyard.

The graveyard.

The word triggers a momentary flush of panic in my cheeks, before I remember that the graveyard is to the back of the church, and not the front where we should be headed.

“Must be at least 500 metres. It goes under the main street, under Tesco’s car park and down towards the riverbank. There must be steps up here soon” I reply eventually. The steam from my mouth momentarily warms my nose. I watch as the wisps of breath, carrying my words, roll in tight circles over Sids shoulders and dissapear into the darkness before him.

The tunnel begins to roll downwards. We find ourselves walking flat footed as the cold stone floor retreats at an ever more alarming angle, until we find we have to hold ourselves erect by pressing our palms against the chilly damp rock of the walls. Sid skips once or twice as the descent deceives him, grabbing the edge of a stone to hold his balance occassionally. I hold my hand against his right shoulder to keep myself from falling forward, like a blind man following his half blind helper. It’s this that saves Sid from tumbling down the first set of steps.

Sid lets out a curt, sharp cry, as if he hasn’t the time to finish his sentance as his foot fails to reach solid floor for the first time. He buckles as his foot fails to purchase, and tumbles forwards, taking the candle with him. The last sight I have of him is his silloutte falling forwards before the light dissapears and the blackness surronds me. The darkness that ensues is overpowering. I stand for a moment, transfixed, petrified as if suddenly blinded,  by the utter blackness of the tunnel. Both my arms reach out instinctively for the walls for positioning, before my staring, sightless eyes. I’m wide eyed, trying to suck in any semblance of form or shape. Its as the world has been blinked away and I’m frozen in a death like void. Sids groans finally attract my attention.

“You okay mate. Sid, You okay?” I must sound paniced, but then I am worried about him. No, Lets be honest. I’m worried first and foremost about being left down here alone. Sids’ voice, when it comes, is weak, but healthy, and thankfully close by.

“I’m fine, I’m fine” he breaths.

“There’s a set of feckin’ steps there, he pants. I can tell from his disjointed breathing that he’s on the verge of panic. For some reason I take comfort from this, as if it reassures me that I haven’t gone blind, and that I’m not alone.

“Take it handy. Stop there a minute”

I can hear as he fights to control the rising panic in his voice. The darkness feels like a straightjacket around me. A sudden memory of being caught head down in a barrel of water flashes through my mind, my arms uselessly clamped by my sides as I wriggle in panic for what seemed like minutes until the barrel topples and I am pulled free by a similarly paniced friend. Another quickly replaces it. Of me 18 metres down in a diving suit, hypervetalating as chunks of regurgated breakfast seal my resperator, unti l I swao to my backup, sucking in salty Agean Sea before I can fight for breath again. I beat that, I think, I’ll beat this. Inky black stale air coats my lungs and I wretch and cough to snap back into a rythm of breathing I can control. I lean my shoulder against the cold, yet comforting sold wall and regain my composure, pumping invisable blowing breaths as my racing heart begins to molify and calm, my face pressed against the reassuring cold stone.

I Brace myself against the walls with both palms. A spark of white light, then a rush of yellow glow as Sids sparking zippo blinds me. A welcome rush of cold sweat covers my skin.

 Sid is sprawled below me, at the foot of a set of four rough hewn steps. He faces me, his eyes wide as mine, then grimacing against the light. We stare at each other for what seems like minutes before exhaling in life giving tumbles of laughs.

“Your face!” Sid exclaims in a high pitched voice of relief mixed with laughter.

 ”Arsehole!” I reply, bending almost double as the tension that has bound me like a coil dissapates and I crumple to the floor, laughing uncontrollably. Panic is seeping through my pours until I can almost smell it as it releases my tightly bound muscles.

 

 I edge my way down the steps just as Sid is standing, dusting himself of from his fall, beaming at me in the poor light.

The cavern is vast. Walls tower above us like a naturally carved cathedral. Stallagtites hang like mutated organ pipes, grotesque gargouile-like heads of limestone deposites pour over in silent, thousand year long tributaries of creamy white solid water carvings. None of this was carved by man. All of this was carved by years of secret, slipping, water that curved and cut this cavern the way it wanted it. To the bottom, our ears fill in the dark gaps that we cannot see. An underground stream, unglistening, unsparkeling, but chattering, is rushing somewhere beneath us.