“No! No! Please no!” echoed through the cave.
Bang!! Bang!!
Gedman crumbled to the floor, blood seeping through his black military-grade tactical gear onto the dirt. Static and muffled voices reverberated along the cave walls from the broken radio near the body. Alex turned back to help.
“Leave him! Or I will shoot you too,” advised Seth.
“Well fuck me, I thought we were on the same team. Am I next?” replied Alex.
“I’m following the mission,” spoke Seth calmly.
“We were in the same briefing, dipshit! Did you have a separate meeting?” shouted Alex.
“Let’s just move on and get the job done,” replied Seth, as he aimed his gun at Alex.
The clanging of chains filled the silence. Shipman staggered forward; his iron shackles limited each step he took to a short, awkward shuffle ahead of the armed men. Even from behind, Seth could see the tension in his shoulders. He could only imagine the fear coursing through his body. The head of the Weard, Eli Gedman Sr, had selected Shipman. Nobody questioned his decisions.
The assignment had been delivered with clear instructions. The prisoner had to be inside the vault by 03:00, not a minute late. Seth checked his watch. Twenty-three minutes remained. For years, he had watched men leave the Gaol for assignments like this and secretly hoped his turn would come. When the opportunity finally came, he did not hesitate.
Shipman stopped shuffling. Alex moved ahead and placed his hand on the large rune-covered stone door.
“You’re up, scholar. Time to put your university degree to good use!” smirked Seth.
“Go fuck yourself. When we get back to the Gaol, you’re fucked. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re bringing your arse back here in shackles next year!” piped Alex.
“Just open it, will you? Time is running out!” stated Seth.
Alex reached into his backpack and removed a package. As he unravelled the fabric, he held a key-like stone with holes chiselled out of it. He ran his free hand over the surface of the large stone slab.
“Got it,” said Alex.
Seth watched as Alex placed the stone key on the door and turned it with both hands. They both stepped back when they heard cogs move within the body of the door. A thud followed, then it opened slightly. They both put their shoulders into the door and pushed it open.
The staleness of the air that escaped the room carried with it an odour of death. Both Seth and Alex gagged as it attacked their throats.
“What is wrong with you? You didn’t even flinch,” said Alex.
“Death doesn’t bother me. I know why I am here. But why did you guys choose to bring me?” said Shipman.
“I wanted to climb the…”
Bang!!
The bullet tore through Alex’s head. Shipman didn’t flinch as a warm mist of blood shot across his face. The stale air held on to the smell of iron and gunpowder. Seth pushed him forward, causing him to stumble, but caught him before he disrupted the patterns of salt on the floor. The caves were thousands of years old, but the modern vaults had been installed by the Weard decades earlier. As they navigated the salt, the dirt path underfoot changed to stone, then to stone steps right up to the vaults. Spotlights lit up the markings on each of the large meteoritic iron doors.
Seth headed towards the middle vault. Goetic carvings and alchemical symbols covered the iron door, helping to contain Vassago. He remembered the words spoken by Eli Gedman Sr.: “Ignore what you see and hear, stick to the mission, replace the man inside the vault, before zero three hundred hours.”
Standing in front of the middle vault, he entered the number he had memorised from the mission file into the keypad. As he pressed the last button, a thud shook the vault, followed by a louder thump. The keypad flashed a neon orange, so he entered the second number, which caused the iron door to hiss as the seal had been broken.
The foul stench of urine and faeces caused Seth to empty the contents of his stomach. Shipman stood there unmoved, even as nonsensical ramblings came from the man trapped inside with Vassago. The mission briefing explained that this yearly sacrifice had been happening for thousands of years.
Shipman was the next to be offered to the demon so that the Weard could protect the world. He thought back to the instructions: “Ignore the words spoken by Vassago or the man inside; the demon will torment you with truths about yourself.” Still gagging, he pulled open the door to reveal the frail man, so thin his boiler suit was hanging off him. The name tag, held on by a single thread, had the word Pickton stitched into it.
He felt Pickton’s sunken eyes burrow into his soul. Blood trickled from the cracked skin on his lips as the ramblings continued. Thick, stained straps held Pickton in a similar pose to Jesus on the cross. As soon as Seth undid the buckles, Pickton’s limbs went limp, revealing the sores which had formed around his wrists and neck.
Behind the thick glass that separated Pickton from a year of torture, a plume of smoke circled the vault. Condensation had gathered on the glass, and words began to appear as if by an invisible hand. “I know your truths.” He eased Pickton down and laid him on the ground, even as Pickton still rambled on.
On the glass, new words appeared. “You stole from your father.” But Seth ignored them and the memory that tried to force its way into his mind. Words changed again. “You’re weak, you won’t do it.” He hoisted Shipman into position on the vault door, fastening the binds which would hold him in place for a year.
Four minutes remained as he closed the vault. A thud echoed around the cave as he entered the code into the keypad. Pickton spoke clearly, “Murderer, no bravery or courage. You’re weak.” Images flashed in Seth’s mind of families being shot dead by his military unit in a war-torn country. Each member had been found dead in the last five years. He was the last remnant of that time. Pickton’s speech slipped back into nonsensical ramblings, but every other word he said was murderer. Seth unclipped his gun and fired two shots into Pickton. Blood pumped out of the holes in his chest. But the word murderer still echoed in his mind.
Seth placed the barrel of the gun against his temple. He took a deep breath, calmed himself and then squeezed the trigger. His lifeless body crumpled to the floor.
Beyond the doorway, voices and footsteps reverberated around the caves. Torchlights lit up the vault room.
“Craven, containment protocol on these bodies. Carpenter and Hooper carry on bagging all the bodies, even those two by the entrance,” Ordered Captain Karras.
A man dressed in all black military-grade tactical gear ran up to the bodies of Pickton and Seth. He aimed the nozzle of the flamethrower, pulled the trigger, and ignited both bodies. Captain Karras watched the bodies burn without flinching, but then a voice came from over his shoulder.
“We got a live one here, Captain. Shit, it is Gedman Jr. His father is going to want answers. He is in a bad way, sir. We need to get him back to the doctors, or he will lose his leg,” said Carpenter.
“Get him back to base. We will do what we need to do there,” said Captain Karras.
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AUTHOR BIO
I am A D Small, an indie author from the northwest of England. I have written poetry, short scripts, and short stories, but I am currently working on my first novel. I don’t sit within one genre. For me, it always depends on the idea, so hopefully there will be something in my work for everyone to enjoy.
https://linktr.ee/adsmallauthor
