Midnight's Lair (6 page)

    'With a flashlight at each end of the group, there should be at least a little light. Some of you have matches, lighters, and cameras with flashes. If necessary, use them. But don't waste them. The trip will probably take about an hour, and we really don't know how long we'll be in the cavern before electricity is restored. I think we should try to get by with the flashlights, and save the matches and things in case we need them later on.

    'If anyone has trouble along the way, call out and we'll stop immediately. Any questions?'

    'Couldn't we make torches or something?' It was the voice of the boy who'd asked about the damming effects of Ely's wall.

    'I guess we could,' Darcy answered, 'but I don't think it's really necessary. The flashlights should be enough to keep us in light until we reach the elevators.'

    'Are there any bats down here?' asked a woman near the back.

    'No. Bats used to inhabit the cavern, but they didn't last long after Ely Mordock sealed the natural opening. The same goes for cave rats and other wildlife. So you don't need to worry about running into any nasty critters down here.'

    'Well, thank goodness for that,' the woman said.

    'Any more questions?'

    'We gonna stand around here all day?'

    Greg swung the flashlight across the group and found - the face of the man in the Peterbilt hat. Squinting against the glare, the man turned his head away.

    'Any other questions?' Darcy asked. When no response came, she said, 'Let's have Tom at the front here.'

    He came forward, walking slowly, Jim and Beth Donner on either side of him. Darcy was glad to see that they weren't holding him up. A belt was wrapped around his head to hold cloth pads against his wound.

    'I'm going to lead the way,' Darcy announced. 'Greg will take up the rear. He has a flashlight, and he'll keep-an eye on everyone.'

    'You'll need this,' Beth said, and gave her flashlight to Darcy. It seemed only about half as bright as the one Greg held, but it was still strong enough to do the job.

    Greg put a hand on her shoulder; it felt big and warm through the jacket. 'Whenever you're ready,' he said, speaking quietly, 'I'll stay put and count them as they go by.'

    'Great,' she told him. She faced the others. 'Everybody ready?'

    'Head 'em up, move 'em out!' The kid who'd asked about torches. Darcy was starting to like him.

    She turned around, then raised the hand with the flashlight high overhead, swept it down, and started walking. The wooden planks of the dock creaked under her feet, and rumbled as those behind her began to move. A few strides took her to the concrete walkway.

    She kept the beam aimed low, lighting the area just ahead of her feet. Soon, she spotted the steps to the grotto on her right. The encounter with Kyle forced its way into her mind. She felt herself blushing.

    The little creep's probably thinking about it right now.

    

    

    Kyle, watching the dim shape of Darcy beyond the three people in front of him, saw her head turn. The grotto's over there, he thought, and felt a warm stir in his groin as he remembered the way she'd looked.

    Nothing on but her panties, and he could see right through those.

    He'd been in her room three times, so far, and now he'd seen her nearly naked. The next thing was to get her.

    Put her in 115.

    Dad won't let that happen, though. She's a guide. She's not like Amy Lawson, someone you can just get rid of.

    There must be a way.

    The girl beside Kyle suddenly stumbled and grabbed his arm. Steady again, she muttered, 'Sorry,' and released her grip.

    'It's all right,' Kyle said.

    'I'm such a klutz sometimes.'

    'Maybe you should take my hand,' he said, so polite, as if he were hosting at the Chalet.

    She put her hand in his. It felt warm. Kyle looked at her. He couldn't see much, just that she was wearing glasses. But he remembered what she looked like. Even though he'd kept his eyes mostly on Darcy during the tour, he'd checked out all the other females. This one had blonde hair in a pony tail, and was kind of pretty in spite of the glasses. She was wearing a white blouse, an open white sweater, a plaid skirt with pleats, and knee socks. Kyle recalled that she had big breasts for someone so slim.

    He noticed, now, that she smelled good. Not fresh like Darcy or flowery like Amy. It was an aroma that made him think of cotton candy.

    'Where are you from?' she asked.

    'Oh, I live around here.' He decided not to tell her that his father owned the place. 'How about you?'

    'I'm from Santa Monica, California.'

    'You're a long way from home.'

    'We're visiting my uncle in Albany. My dad's brother. We rented a car so we could explore around for a few days.'

    'You and your parents?'

    'Just my dad and me. My mom died three years ago.'

    'Oh, I'm sorry.' He wasn't sorry. He didn't even know the girl's mother. But it seemed like the right thing to say.

    She squeezed his hand. 'That's okay. What about you?'

    'Mine ran off with somebody.'

    'So you live with your father, just like me.'

    'You live with my father?'

    She laughed quietly. 'Silly.'

    'What are you doing down here without him?'

    'He's got claustrophobia.'

    'You're kidding.'

    'No, honest.' The way she sounded, Kyle guessed she was grinning.

    'And he brought you to a cavern?'

    'Well, I saw it in the guide book and I said it sounded neat. So here I am. He's probably shitting bricks, if you'll pardon my French.'

    'Shit ain't French.'

    She giggled, and the pale blur of her right hand darted up to cover her mouth. When it lowered again, she said, 'You're weird, Kyle.'

    'I'm not weird. Shit's English. It's in Chaucer. Past tense is shat. He shat a brick.'

    Stifling more giggles, she bumped her shoulder against Kyle. 'That's awful.'

    The woman just in front of them, who was walking beside Tom, looked over her shoulder. She said nothing. A moment later, she faced forward again.

    Kyle gave her the finger.

    Paula bumped him again.

    
This isn't bad,
he thought.
She likes me. Maybe I can cop a feel before we get out of here.

    

    

    Carol Marsh flinched as Helen put an arm around her back.

    'You're shaking like a leaf,' Helen said.

    'I'm freezing, that's all.'

    'You should've paid attention. I warned you it would be chilly down here.'

    Yes, Helen had warned her. Helen was full of advice. She was thirty-six, only five years older than Carol, but she treated Carol like a child. Too many years in the classroom with kids short on common sense.

    She'd been that way since Carol started at George Washington Elementary School. Carol's first day on the job, the more experienced teacher took her under her wing. And kept her there ever since.

    The mother-hen treatment never bothered her much until this trip. Being in Helen's company day after day, night after night, Carol had started feeling smothered and annoyed by the treatment.

    By now, the fifth day of their vacation, she had it up to her nose with the constant advice and the underlying assumption that she was incapable of running her own life.

    This morning in the hotel room when Helen had said, 'You're not going on the tour in that, I hope,' she replied, 'I don't see anything wrong with it.'

    It was a yellow sundress.

    'Well, at least put on a sweater. You don't want to catch a cold.'

    'It's ninety degrees outside.'

    'We'll be a hundred and fifty feet below ground in a chilly, damp cave. And the guidebook… Let me get it.' She's going to read me a lesson. Helen found the booklet, opened it to a map she had used to mark her place, and read, ' "Mordock Cavern, while warmer than many similar caves in summer due to its unusual ventilation system which circulates air from the surface, nonetheless remains chilly. Those wishing to take the tour in comfort are advised to wear sweaters or light jackets." '

    'I think I'll live,' Carol said.

    'Well, it's up to you, of course.'

    'Yes, it is.'

    Now, Carol wished she'd chosen a different issue for her small rebellion. The cool of the cave had felt good for a while, but soon it began bothering her. She'd been shivering ever since the lights went out. She suspected that the shivers had less to do with the temperature of the cave than with fear. Whatever the cause, however, warmer clothes would have improved the situation.

    Her sundress didn't cover much. It was cut low in front and back, sleeveless and short. The fabric was so light it seemed to float around her, barely touching her skin. It let the air in. Wonderful in hot weather. Not so great down here.

    Helen's arm felt warm and good on her back. She put her arm around Helen.

    Felt the thickness of her friend's cable-knit sweater.

    
I wonder if she'd let me wear that for a few minutes. No way am I going to ask,
Carol told herself.

    
We'll be out of here before long.

    She looked up. Light from behind brushed the shoulders and heads of those in front of her. Its glow lit the slick grey wall of the cave to the right. She saw a ruffled slab of flowstone that the guide, Darcy, had talked about on the way in.

    
We're more than halfway back to the elevators,
she realized.

    Helen suddenly seemed to stiffen. Her hand pressed more tightly against Carol's side.

    'Are you all right?' Carol whispered.

    'I'm sure… we're not actually trapped.'

    'No, of course not. It's just temporary.'

    'Perhaps they had to send to town for an electrician. That might take a while.'

    'They won't leave us down here, Helen.'

    'I understand that. I'm certain we'll be out of here in a matter of hours, at most.

    'Probably,' Carol agreed. 'I really don't think anything serious happened up there.'

    'A short circuit, something of that nature.'

    'Can you believe that cretin suggesting there'd been a nuclear attack?'

    'I suppose it is a possibility. It's always a possibility.'

    'But remote,' Carol said. 'This is bad enough without dreaming up catastrophes.'

    Helen patted her side.

    They walked in silence.

    Carol forgot about the cold. She struggled against an awful feeling of loss.
What for?
she thought.
There certainly wasn't any goddamn nuclear war. Probably.

    
Even if there was, I don't have any family. If everyone got wiped out, I'd lose a few friends. Helen's probably my best friend, and she's safe down here with me.

    
Isn't that fine? No one to lose. No husband, not even a lover. No child. You're thirty-one, and you've got nothing. You blew it with Derek, you blew it with David. You wanted your space.

    
You'll have all the space in the world if it's been levelled.

    'Carol?'

    'Huh?' she asked, glad to have such thoughts interrupted.

    'I left my insulin in the hotel room.'

    

    

    'Are we almost there yet?'

    Wayne Phillips looked down at his daughter. Katie was walking between him and Jean, holding a hand of each.

    'Almost where?' Wayne asked.

    'Don't be dumb, Daddy. The elevator.'

    'We'll be there in fifteen minutes or so, I think. If the monsters don't get us.'

    Katie jerked her hand away and punched his hip. 'Mommy, tell Daddy to stop. He's talking about monsters.'

    'Really, Wayne, I don't think this is a good time for that sort of thing.'

    'You're right. Besides, I haven't seen any. Yet.'

    'Daddy!'

    'He has monsters on the brain,' Jean said.

    'And a good thing, too,' he told her, 'or we wouldn't be able to afford this fine vacation.' It made him feel good to think of the $7,500 they'd just received, the first half of the $15,000 advance for his new novel,
Lurker in the Dark
. The other half was due in nine months or on publication, whichever came first.

    'I'll get a book out of this, for sure,' he said. 'What a terrific premise. Forty people trapped in a cave.'

    'Didn't we see an Irwin Allen movie like that?' Jean asked.

    'That was a disaster movie. This'll be horror. There's something nasty in the cave. Something that creeps out of the darkness and…'

    'Stop it, Daddy. I don't think you're funny.'

    'I'm not trying to scare you,' he protested. 'I'm just thinking out loud.'

    'I wish you'd think to yourself.'

    
Seven years old,
he thought,
and she's already giving orders to men.

    She's scared.

    She loves spooky stories and horror movies, but this is getting to her. This is the real thing. No zombies or madmen or scuttling aliens (not yet), but we're in just the sort of place they might really go for, and she knows it.

    
And so do I.

    
There's no one down here but us,
Wayne told himself.

    And he suddenly remembered the clay people from one of those Flash Gordon serials he used to watch on television. It was the same story that had the forest people, those freaky folks with the wild hairdos who swung through the trees - and got either Flash or Happy with an arrow from one of their weird little crossbows.