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fredbassettTitle : Riddles in the Dark, Part 2 of 3
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Lester/Lyle, Finn, other OCs (plus a guest appearance from another fandom!)
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count: 8,900 in three equal parts
Summary : Lester and Lyle make a return trip into the Devil’s Crowll in search of some missing cavers.
A/N : 1) Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
louisedennis’s fandom stocking. Sorry it’s late, Louise! It got a bit long to post in comments and I ran out of time. I hope this is in keeping with our fandom stocking traditions… 2) Set in my Stephen/Ryan ‘verse.
Inch by painful inch, Lester made progress through the Devil’s Arsehole.
The rock pressed in around him on all sides. Turning his head was impossible now. All he could do was hope he’d aimed his helmet at the widest part of the passage and he half-wished he’d taken it off before entering the squeeze. The cave seemed to be contracting around him and for a moment, Lester could feel panic starting to rise in his chest as he fought for something to jam his boots against. He forced himself to go limp, breathing slowly and deeply through his nose, trying not to think about the carbon dioxide that sometimes ponded in such places in other parts of the mines. But despite his fears, the air remained clear, even though his body was now solidly blocking the passage. Lester exhaled slowly then bunched up his muscles and wriggled. His body moved inside the oversuit but he didn’t feel he was making any actual progress through the squeeze. He tried again and this time his right foot found some purchase, enabling him to push forward, gaining a couple of hard-won inches.
That was the incentive he needed and with another couple of pushes, Lester felt the pressure on his chest ease as the passage started to rise again, taking him away from the lowest and tightest point of the Devil’s Arsehole.
“Nearly there, my adorable little mudskipper.”
Lester shoved his right arm up into the chamber beyond the squeeze and flipped Lyle the finger. A strong hand promptly seized his wrist and Lyle helped haul him out of the hole.
“Doesn’t get any better, does it?” Lyle said, sympathy dancing in his hazel eyes.
“At least this time we’re not carrying diving bottles.”
Lyle grinned. “I love it when you look on the bright side, darling.”
Lester reached back into the squeeze to grab the tackle bag that Finn was pushing in front of him. The young soldier’s thanks were muffled as he struggled through the tight dip in the passage to emerge, moments later, flushed, muddy and cursing under his breath.
“There was no sign of diving equipment in the car, so the buggers can’t be far now,” Lyle commented. “What’s the betting on light failure?”
“Fucking stupid to go pirating somewhere like this without spare lights, boss.”
“Well, it’s either that or their ladder snapped on the last pitch.”
“Free-climbable,” Finn said.
“If you’re any good.”
“If they’re not, they shouldn’t be here,” Lester said. “Come on, the suspense is killing me.”
The final pitch in that section of the cave was a three-metre drop that was, as Finn had pointed out, free-climbable if you knew what you were doing. The usual belay was to a bolt on the left-hand wall, but Lester could see instantly that something had changed. The rock was fractured and several large chunks had simply peeled away.
“Unlucky,” Lyle commented, then in his best parade ground voice he yelled, “Anyone down there?”
Finn pulled their last ladder and rope from the tackle bag, along with several long slings and promptly set about rigging the pitch from an alternative belay, improvising with a large, heavy boulder that seemed solidly jammed into one side of the passage.
“Anyone down there?” Lyle yelled again, even louder.
A weak echo came back to greet him, leaving Lester wondering for a moment if it was just Lyle’s voice bouncing back to him, but a moment later, he revised his opinion when a faint but intelligible voice called back, “We’re down here!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Lyle muttered. “OK, I think we can handle his one without a line. I’m going down.”
The pitch was an easy one, with the rock wall preventing the ladder from swinging around while you were climbing. Lester followed his lover down into the large passage at the bottom of the climb that led after about 40 metres to Lake Chamber. There, they found the men whose progress they’d been following down the cave huddled together on a ledge above the water. They were all equipped with reasonable-looking gear, but the one thing they were lacking was light.
“Looks like you were right, boss,” Finn commented. “No spare lights. Complete wank-puffins.”
One of the men jerked his head up at that, but mustering a glare when he’d been stuck down there for over a day was clearly beyond him.
“Any of you hurt?” Lyle demanded.
Three heads shook in unison.
“Good, because it’ll be fucking ages before a rescue party gets here. We’ve got spare lights, so we can make a move when you’re ready.”
One of the men raised his arm and pointed it shakily at the dark pool that gave the chamber its name. “There’s something down there…”
“Yeah, it’s called a lake.” Lyle retrieved three chocolate bars and a bottle of water from one of the bags. “Get this down you and start moving around. That’ll warm you up.”
“There’s something down there!” The man’s voice rose and cracked on the final word. ”We saw eyes in the dark…”
“You always do when you’ve had light failure, mate.” But despite his words, Lyle reached for the bag with the Mossberg in and kept it close to hand. “Names?”
“Dave Haller,” said the man who’d claimed to have seen the eyes.
“Steve,” one of the men said around a mouthful of chocolate.
The third had his back pressed against the rock wall and his arms wrapped around his knees. The chocolate bar was clutched in one dirty hand, but he’d made no move to start eating.
Finn knelt next to him and took the chocolate, ripping open the wrapper before handing it back. “My name’s Rob. Come on, this’ll give you some energy.” The compassion in his voice was at odds with his earlier remarks about the men’s competence. Lester watched as the man took a bite out of the chocolate bar and looked at Finn with grateful eyes. “What’s your name?” the young soldier asked.
“Damian.”
“OK, Damian, you get that down you and we’ll see about getting you lot out of here.”
“If you aren’t the rescue, who are you?” Dave Haller asked, a trace of belligerence creeping into his voice.
“We’re the blokes who are going to haul your arses out of here,” Lyle said. “Jon Lyle. Pleased to meet you.”
“We did see eyes.”
“I didn’t say you hadn’t,” Lyle said, and Lester watched a brief moment of uncertainty flicker in his lover’s eyes.
“What happened with the belay?” Lester asked, raking the beam of his light around the underground lake. There were ripples on the water, but they could have come from drips. Despite that, he followed Lyle’s suit and made sure the tackle bag with the Sig Sauer in was nearby.
“Came out when we tried to climb the ladder.” Haller muttered.
Lyle raised his eyebrows but didn’t press the point. The use of the word ‘we’ was telling, and Lester had a suspicion that the men had been spooked by something and had scrambled for the ladder, maybe with two of them trying to climb at once. The belay hadn’t stood the strain and despite the eyes in the dark, they’d not been able to free-climb the pitch.
Lester could see that Lyle was itching to rip the men a new arsehole each, but so far, the soldier was managing to hang on to his temper. Lester shot a look at his hands. There was no sign of his lover scratching his thumbs, which Lester took as a good sign. He pulled a bottle of water out of his tackle bag and handed it to Haller.
“Drink some of this. We can take it slowly on the way out. You’ll be fine.”
Haller gave him a sour look but he took a long swig of the water before handing it on.
“I’ll get the pitch rigged for lining, boss,” Finn said.
Lyle nodded. While Finn quickly climbed the ladder, he looked out over the dark water of the sump pool, staring thoughtfully at the constantly spreading ripples. A quick glance at the roof revealed no obvious source of drips. He met Lester’s eyes and gave a quick shrug.
Lester joined Lyle by the edge of the water. Keeping his voice to a murmur, he asked, “Are they up to the return trip?”
“Probably not, but they’ll make it out whether they like it or not.”
“Best parade ground voice?”
“My best get-your-sorry-arse-round-this-fucking-assault-course-or-I’ll-rip-your-liver-out-and-make-you-eat-it voice.”
“Motivational speaking Hereford style?” As he spoke, Lester noticed that the ripples were spreading more strongly now.
Lyle reached into the tackle bag and quickly strapped on the black webbing bands of his thigh holster.
“Jesus fuck!” The exclamation came from Dave Haller. “What’s down here that you need a fucking gun for? Who the fuck are you guys?”
“I told you, we’re the guys who are going to haul your arses out of here. Now stop sitting there like a fucking wet weekend and get clipped onto that rope. I’ve got no fucking idea what your eyes in the dark are attached to, but I don’t imagine you want to hang around here long enough to find out, so start fucking moving!” Lyle’s voice was as sharp as a whip crack. “Now”
The three men scrambled to their feet and Damian made a grab for the rope that Finn had just tossed down.
“One at a fucking time!” Finn yelled. “You know what happens when you don’t play like nice puppies!”
Damian fumbled with a karabiner on his belt, his hands almost certainly numb with cold. After two attempts, he got the robe clipped in and managed to croak, “Ready to climb!”
“Taking up slack!” Finn called as he drew up the excess rope until he could feel Damian’s weight on the end. “Climb when ready!”
“Climbing!” The standard safety check having been carried out, Damian grasped the thin metal rungs of the ladder and started to climb. His movements were halting, and it was immediately clear that Finn was taking much of the man’s weight and was effectively hauling Damian up the pitch.
“Are you expecting trouble, Jon?” Lester said, looking pointedly at his lover’s thumbs.
“Eyes in the dark down here isn’t likely to be good news. Keep your eyes on the water. Yell if anything moves.” Lyle drew the Mossberg shotgun out of the tackle sack and slung it across his shoulder. “Even if it turns out to be our old friend with the tusks through his nose, this should stop the bugger.”
“Good, remind me not to complain next time you put in a kit requisition.”
“Keep an eye on the water,” Lyle said. “I want those three muppets out of here asap. If Mr Tusky does turn up, at least we know he can’t climb ladders.”
“Neither can this lot,” Lester muttered, earning him a grin from Lyle. Pulling open the top of the tackle bag, he drew out the second Mossberg, fed in five shells and kept the barrel pointing at the lake.
The two cavers at the bottom of the pitch looked around and their eyes widened in shock at the weaponry now on display.
“Below!” called Finn and a moment later a coil of rope slapped into the mud at the bottom of the pitch.
Lyle grabbed it and held the loop at the end of the rope out to the man called Steve. The caver was on his feet, but he looked weak, shaky and clearly terrified. Lester wasn’t sure if the guns were reassuring or scaring the men and frankly, he didn’t really care. None of the three were in much of a state to face the return trip, but staying down there and waiting for rescue wasn’t an option, not with something lurking in the pool.
The ripples were spreading wider now, crossing the dark surface of the water and lapping at the trampled mud. The remains of the wrecked diving camp from his first trip down the cave had been removed, along with what was left of the dead diver. Lyle had insisted on doing that, despite Lester’s objections. The trip had consisted only of the soldiers and it hadn’t been easy. Afterwards, the four of them had retired to the bar in the Mitchell’s hotel and had proceeded to drink away the memories. The dead diver’s family had at last been able to hold a proper funeral and that had been what had mattered most. Lester hadn’t asked for details and Lyle hadn’t volunteered any information.
A gleam of light on the far side of the pool caused him to tighten his grip on the shotgun’s stock.
“James?”
“I’m on it, just keep them moving. I’ve got this.”
“Come on, sunshine, let’s be having you…!” Lyle’s tone was light and encouraging as he propelled Steve to the ladder. “Finn, take up slack!”
“He’s seen something!” Dave Haller sounded close to panic.
“He’s the cautious type.” Lyle slapped Steve on the shoulder and called, “Climbing!”
Jerkily, Steve started to climb. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, and it was immediately clear he was having difficulties. Finn started hauling again and progress improved.
After that first rogue gleam of light, Lester had seen nothing to alarm him but he kept the weapon trained on far side of the pool from where the ripples appeared to be emanating. As soon as Finn hauled Steve to the top of the pitch and threw the rope back down, Lyle was ready, clipping Haller on and jerking the rope to free it from a projection in the rock. Lester waited for Finn to run through the usual mantra, but it didn’t come.
Instead, he heard the words, “Boss, give me a minute, the main belay’s looking dodgy. Gonna rig a back-up.”
“I’m not fucking staying down here!” Haller grabbed the ladder and scrabbled at the rungs.
“No you don’t, sunshine.” Lyle’s tone was light but firm. “It won’t take him a minute.”
Lester kept his eyes on the water, not on the scene at the foot of the ladder. He’d just seen another gleam of light. There was movement now, definitely movement, and what looked like long, pale fingers creeping around the projection of rock that hit the final descent into the sump.
He drew in a slow breath and aimed the weapon. “Things might get noisy, boys.”
Haller let out a sharp cry and tried to shoulder Lyle out of the way so he could get hold of the ladder again, but Finn moved faster and out of the corner of his eye Lester saw the ladder snake upwards, leaving him free to rig another belay. Leaving them stranded in the final chamber.
Lyle quickly grabbed one of the caver’s arms and twisted it up his back in one practised movement. “Stop being a fucking pain in the arse!”
Lester kept all his attention focussed on what was happening on the other side of the sump pool. The fingers were thin, all knuckles and long nails, but human enough to stop Lester sending a three-round burst into the corner of the pool.
“James, now might be a good time…”
“I’ve got this, Jon,” Lester said firmly.
“You’ve been around Cutter too long.”
Despite the situation, Lester grinned. “You know how to wound a man, my little mole rat.”
A second hand joined the first and a skinny arm came into view, followed by a bony elbow.
“Get that ladder back down here as soon as you can, mate,” Lyle said, his voice utterly calm.
“Thirty seconds, boss.”
A pale face peered at Lester, large round eyes reflecting the light of his headlamp. Straggly hair grew from the top of the creature’s head and hung limply around sallow, sunken cheeks.
Lester kept his finger on the trigger and his eyes on the creature. Thin lips split into a wide smile revealing sharp, pointed teeth.
A guttural hiss sent a shiver down Lester’s spine.
His hands gripped the shotgun tighter. “Get those three out of here as soon as you can, Jon.”
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Lester/Lyle, Finn, other OCs (plus a guest appearance from another fandom!)
Disclaimer : Not mine (except the OCs), no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count: 8,900 in three equal parts
Summary : Lester and Lyle make a return trip into the Devil’s Crowll in search of some missing cavers.
A/N : 1) Written for
louisedennis’s fandom stocking. Sorry it’s late, Louise! It got a bit long to post in comments and I ran out of time. I hope this is in keeping with our fandom stocking traditions… 2) Set in my Stephen/Ryan ‘verse.Inch by painful inch, Lester made progress through the Devil’s Arsehole.
The rock pressed in around him on all sides. Turning his head was impossible now. All he could do was hope he’d aimed his helmet at the widest part of the passage and he half-wished he’d taken it off before entering the squeeze. The cave seemed to be contracting around him and for a moment, Lester could feel panic starting to rise in his chest as he fought for something to jam his boots against. He forced himself to go limp, breathing slowly and deeply through his nose, trying not to think about the carbon dioxide that sometimes ponded in such places in other parts of the mines. But despite his fears, the air remained clear, even though his body was now solidly blocking the passage. Lester exhaled slowly then bunched up his muscles and wriggled. His body moved inside the oversuit but he didn’t feel he was making any actual progress through the squeeze. He tried again and this time his right foot found some purchase, enabling him to push forward, gaining a couple of hard-won inches.
That was the incentive he needed and with another couple of pushes, Lester felt the pressure on his chest ease as the passage started to rise again, taking him away from the lowest and tightest point of the Devil’s Arsehole.
“Nearly there, my adorable little mudskipper.”
Lester shoved his right arm up into the chamber beyond the squeeze and flipped Lyle the finger. A strong hand promptly seized his wrist and Lyle helped haul him out of the hole.
“Doesn’t get any better, does it?” Lyle said, sympathy dancing in his hazel eyes.
“At least this time we’re not carrying diving bottles.”
Lyle grinned. “I love it when you look on the bright side, darling.”
Lester reached back into the squeeze to grab the tackle bag that Finn was pushing in front of him. The young soldier’s thanks were muffled as he struggled through the tight dip in the passage to emerge, moments later, flushed, muddy and cursing under his breath.
“There was no sign of diving equipment in the car, so the buggers can’t be far now,” Lyle commented. “What’s the betting on light failure?”
“Fucking stupid to go pirating somewhere like this without spare lights, boss.”
“Well, it’s either that or their ladder snapped on the last pitch.”
“Free-climbable,” Finn said.
“If you’re any good.”
“If they’re not, they shouldn’t be here,” Lester said. “Come on, the suspense is killing me.”
The final pitch in that section of the cave was a three-metre drop that was, as Finn had pointed out, free-climbable if you knew what you were doing. The usual belay was to a bolt on the left-hand wall, but Lester could see instantly that something had changed. The rock was fractured and several large chunks had simply peeled away.
“Unlucky,” Lyle commented, then in his best parade ground voice he yelled, “Anyone down there?”
Finn pulled their last ladder and rope from the tackle bag, along with several long slings and promptly set about rigging the pitch from an alternative belay, improvising with a large, heavy boulder that seemed solidly jammed into one side of the passage.
“Anyone down there?” Lyle yelled again, even louder.
A weak echo came back to greet him, leaving Lester wondering for a moment if it was just Lyle’s voice bouncing back to him, but a moment later, he revised his opinion when a faint but intelligible voice called back, “We’re down here!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Lyle muttered. “OK, I think we can handle his one without a line. I’m going down.”
The pitch was an easy one, with the rock wall preventing the ladder from swinging around while you were climbing. Lester followed his lover down into the large passage at the bottom of the climb that led after about 40 metres to Lake Chamber. There, they found the men whose progress they’d been following down the cave huddled together on a ledge above the water. They were all equipped with reasonable-looking gear, but the one thing they were lacking was light.
“Looks like you were right, boss,” Finn commented. “No spare lights. Complete wank-puffins.”
One of the men jerked his head up at that, but mustering a glare when he’d been stuck down there for over a day was clearly beyond him.
“Any of you hurt?” Lyle demanded.
Three heads shook in unison.
“Good, because it’ll be fucking ages before a rescue party gets here. We’ve got spare lights, so we can make a move when you’re ready.”
One of the men raised his arm and pointed it shakily at the dark pool that gave the chamber its name. “There’s something down there…”
“Yeah, it’s called a lake.” Lyle retrieved three chocolate bars and a bottle of water from one of the bags. “Get this down you and start moving around. That’ll warm you up.”
“There’s something down there!” The man’s voice rose and cracked on the final word. ”We saw eyes in the dark…”
“You always do when you’ve had light failure, mate.” But despite his words, Lyle reached for the bag with the Mossberg in and kept it close to hand. “Names?”
“Dave Haller,” said the man who’d claimed to have seen the eyes.
“Steve,” one of the men said around a mouthful of chocolate.
The third had his back pressed against the rock wall and his arms wrapped around his knees. The chocolate bar was clutched in one dirty hand, but he’d made no move to start eating.
Finn knelt next to him and took the chocolate, ripping open the wrapper before handing it back. “My name’s Rob. Come on, this’ll give you some energy.” The compassion in his voice was at odds with his earlier remarks about the men’s competence. Lester watched as the man took a bite out of the chocolate bar and looked at Finn with grateful eyes. “What’s your name?” the young soldier asked.
“Damian.”
“OK, Damian, you get that down you and we’ll see about getting you lot out of here.”
“If you aren’t the rescue, who are you?” Dave Haller asked, a trace of belligerence creeping into his voice.
“We’re the blokes who are going to haul your arses out of here,” Lyle said. “Jon Lyle. Pleased to meet you.”
“We did see eyes.”
“I didn’t say you hadn’t,” Lyle said, and Lester watched a brief moment of uncertainty flicker in his lover’s eyes.
“What happened with the belay?” Lester asked, raking the beam of his light around the underground lake. There were ripples on the water, but they could have come from drips. Despite that, he followed Lyle’s suit and made sure the tackle bag with the Sig Sauer in was nearby.
“Came out when we tried to climb the ladder.” Haller muttered.
Lyle raised his eyebrows but didn’t press the point. The use of the word ‘we’ was telling, and Lester had a suspicion that the men had been spooked by something and had scrambled for the ladder, maybe with two of them trying to climb at once. The belay hadn’t stood the strain and despite the eyes in the dark, they’d not been able to free-climb the pitch.
Lester could see that Lyle was itching to rip the men a new arsehole each, but so far, the soldier was managing to hang on to his temper. Lester shot a look at his hands. There was no sign of his lover scratching his thumbs, which Lester took as a good sign. He pulled a bottle of water out of his tackle bag and handed it to Haller.
“Drink some of this. We can take it slowly on the way out. You’ll be fine.”
Haller gave him a sour look but he took a long swig of the water before handing it on.
“I’ll get the pitch rigged for lining, boss,” Finn said.
Lyle nodded. While Finn quickly climbed the ladder, he looked out over the dark water of the sump pool, staring thoughtfully at the constantly spreading ripples. A quick glance at the roof revealed no obvious source of drips. He met Lester’s eyes and gave a quick shrug.
Lester joined Lyle by the edge of the water. Keeping his voice to a murmur, he asked, “Are they up to the return trip?”
“Probably not, but they’ll make it out whether they like it or not.”
“Best parade ground voice?”
“My best get-your-sorry-arse-round-this-fucking-assault-course-or-I’ll-rip-your-liver-out-and-make-you-eat-it voice.”
“Motivational speaking Hereford style?” As he spoke, Lester noticed that the ripples were spreading more strongly now.
Lyle reached into the tackle bag and quickly strapped on the black webbing bands of his thigh holster.
“Jesus fuck!” The exclamation came from Dave Haller. “What’s down here that you need a fucking gun for? Who the fuck are you guys?”
“I told you, we’re the guys who are going to haul your arses out of here. Now stop sitting there like a fucking wet weekend and get clipped onto that rope. I’ve got no fucking idea what your eyes in the dark are attached to, but I don’t imagine you want to hang around here long enough to find out, so start fucking moving!” Lyle’s voice was as sharp as a whip crack. “Now”
The three men scrambled to their feet and Damian made a grab for the rope that Finn had just tossed down.
“One at a fucking time!” Finn yelled. “You know what happens when you don’t play like nice puppies!”
Damian fumbled with a karabiner on his belt, his hands almost certainly numb with cold. After two attempts, he got the robe clipped in and managed to croak, “Ready to climb!”
“Taking up slack!” Finn called as he drew up the excess rope until he could feel Damian’s weight on the end. “Climb when ready!”
“Climbing!” The standard safety check having been carried out, Damian grasped the thin metal rungs of the ladder and started to climb. His movements were halting, and it was immediately clear that Finn was taking much of the man’s weight and was effectively hauling Damian up the pitch.
“Are you expecting trouble, Jon?” Lester said, looking pointedly at his lover’s thumbs.
“Eyes in the dark down here isn’t likely to be good news. Keep your eyes on the water. Yell if anything moves.” Lyle drew the Mossberg shotgun out of the tackle sack and slung it across his shoulder. “Even if it turns out to be our old friend with the tusks through his nose, this should stop the bugger.”
“Good, remind me not to complain next time you put in a kit requisition.”
“Keep an eye on the water,” Lyle said. “I want those three muppets out of here asap. If Mr Tusky does turn up, at least we know he can’t climb ladders.”
“Neither can this lot,” Lester muttered, earning him a grin from Lyle. Pulling open the top of the tackle bag, he drew out the second Mossberg, fed in five shells and kept the barrel pointing at the lake.
The two cavers at the bottom of the pitch looked around and their eyes widened in shock at the weaponry now on display.
“Below!” called Finn and a moment later a coil of rope slapped into the mud at the bottom of the pitch.
Lyle grabbed it and held the loop at the end of the rope out to the man called Steve. The caver was on his feet, but he looked weak, shaky and clearly terrified. Lester wasn’t sure if the guns were reassuring or scaring the men and frankly, he didn’t really care. None of the three were in much of a state to face the return trip, but staying down there and waiting for rescue wasn’t an option, not with something lurking in the pool.
The ripples were spreading wider now, crossing the dark surface of the water and lapping at the trampled mud. The remains of the wrecked diving camp from his first trip down the cave had been removed, along with what was left of the dead diver. Lyle had insisted on doing that, despite Lester’s objections. The trip had consisted only of the soldiers and it hadn’t been easy. Afterwards, the four of them had retired to the bar in the Mitchell’s hotel and had proceeded to drink away the memories. The dead diver’s family had at last been able to hold a proper funeral and that had been what had mattered most. Lester hadn’t asked for details and Lyle hadn’t volunteered any information.
A gleam of light on the far side of the pool caused him to tighten his grip on the shotgun’s stock.
“James?”
“I’m on it, just keep them moving. I’ve got this.”
“Come on, sunshine, let’s be having you…!” Lyle’s tone was light and encouraging as he propelled Steve to the ladder. “Finn, take up slack!”
“He’s seen something!” Dave Haller sounded close to panic.
“He’s the cautious type.” Lyle slapped Steve on the shoulder and called, “Climbing!”
Jerkily, Steve started to climb. His movements were slow and uncoordinated, and it was immediately clear he was having difficulties. Finn started hauling again and progress improved.
After that first rogue gleam of light, Lester had seen nothing to alarm him but he kept the weapon trained on far side of the pool from where the ripples appeared to be emanating. As soon as Finn hauled Steve to the top of the pitch and threw the rope back down, Lyle was ready, clipping Haller on and jerking the rope to free it from a projection in the rock. Lester waited for Finn to run through the usual mantra, but it didn’t come.
Instead, he heard the words, “Boss, give me a minute, the main belay’s looking dodgy. Gonna rig a back-up.”
“I’m not fucking staying down here!” Haller grabbed the ladder and scrabbled at the rungs.
“No you don’t, sunshine.” Lyle’s tone was light but firm. “It won’t take him a minute.”
Lester kept his eyes on the water, not on the scene at the foot of the ladder. He’d just seen another gleam of light. There was movement now, definitely movement, and what looked like long, pale fingers creeping around the projection of rock that hit the final descent into the sump.
He drew in a slow breath and aimed the weapon. “Things might get noisy, boys.”
Haller let out a sharp cry and tried to shoulder Lyle out of the way so he could get hold of the ladder again, but Finn moved faster and out of the corner of his eye Lester saw the ladder snake upwards, leaving him free to rig another belay. Leaving them stranded in the final chamber.
Lyle quickly grabbed one of the caver’s arms and twisted it up his back in one practised movement. “Stop being a fucking pain in the arse!”
Lester kept all his attention focussed on what was happening on the other side of the sump pool. The fingers were thin, all knuckles and long nails, but human enough to stop Lester sending a three-round burst into the corner of the pool.
“James, now might be a good time…”
“I’ve got this, Jon,” Lester said firmly.
“You’ve been around Cutter too long.”
Despite the situation, Lester grinned. “You know how to wound a man, my little mole rat.”
A second hand joined the first and a skinny arm came into view, followed by a bony elbow.
“Get that ladder back down here as soon as you can, mate,” Lyle said, his voice utterly calm.
“Thirty seconds, boss.”
A pale face peered at Lester, large round eyes reflecting the light of his headlamp. Straggly hair grew from the top of the creature’s head and hung limply around sallow, sunken cheeks.
Lester kept his finger on the trigger and his eyes on the creature. Thin lips split into a wide smile revealing sharp, pointed teeth.
A guttural hiss sent a shiver down Lester’s spine.
His hands gripped the shotgun tighter. “Get those three out of here as soon as you can, Jon.”
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Date: 2018-01-22 04:31 pm (UTC)This is more awesome than an awesome thing.
I'm loving Finn's competence, and Lyle's too. And Lester being totally badass is great.
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Date: 2018-01-22 09:14 pm (UTC)I think Lester knows that two tough soldiers will be better at getting a load of cold, knackered cavers out.
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Date: 2018-01-22 09:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-22 05:17 pm (UTC)Loved the motivational speaking Hereford-style line!
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Date: 2018-01-22 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-22 09:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-23 10:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-23 10:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-23 02:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-23 03:44 pm (UTC)Really tense, excellent segment.
Funnily enough
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Date: 2018-01-23 07:52 pm (UTC)Glad you're enjoying it!
Oooh, great, I'll look forward to reading that.
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Date: 2018-01-23 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-23 09:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-24 06:45 pm (UTC)But before running to part3: 'Lester shoved his right arm up into the chamber beyond the squeeze and flipped Lyle the finger. A strong hand promptly seized his wrist and Lyle helped haul him out of the hole.' My absolutely favourite moment so far, totally loved it! ^_^
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Date: 2018-01-24 08:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-27 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-01-27 06:52 pm (UTC)