The demons’ chant came down the tunnel they had just exited.
“Weemean.”
It was answered from both the other exits, close and getting closer fast.
“Weemean.”
“Get in a group,” Bill shouted, and they moved to huddle together in the center of the chamber, just as the entrances of all three tunnels filled with the press of red demons.
“Weemean.”
They all moved in rotation as Bill tried to maintain a travelling beam of light that would wash over all three entrances and keep the attack at bay. But there were too many of them; the demons came forward en masse, crowding into the chamber.
Sarah screamed; Bill fired a volley of shots, and the demons chant became almost deafening.
“Weemean. Weemean.”
“We’re going left,” Bill shouted. “In three, two, one. Move!”
They all moved as one. Fred had to tug Sarah sharply towards him as two pairs of arms reached for her, and the shift of weight almost threw them both off their feet. Fred staggered, almost fell, and then was running just behind Bill and Doc, Sarah still gripping tight to his hand. The sound of the rifle boomed around them, along with an accompanying roar of defiance from both Bill and, joining him almost immediately, Doc.
The passageway directly ahead was filled with red bodies, melting away under the strength of the light and the force of the bullets.
More demons pressed behind the fallen.
Big Bill kept running, trying to reload the weapon as he did so. Sarah tripped again, and Fred had to drag her to her feet, and swing her away from more grasping hands. The demons were right behind them.
We’re not going to make it.
Another burst of rifle fire sounded out, and Fred was confused at first, for Bill was still trying to reload.
“Close your eyes,” a well-known voice shouted, and seconds later the chamber flared into blazing light. Fred saw yellow spots in front of his eyes, felt fresh heat on his face.
“Over here,” the voice called. Charlie, with Ellen Simmons at his side, stood in one of the cave entrances, his feet covered in sloughing gloop. A rescue flare burned in the chamber just off to the left. “Come on,” Charlie shouted. “It won’t burn forever.”
Fred led Sarah into the tunnel, feet splashing among what was left of the demons, half-blind from the aftereffects of the flare burst. Doc followed. Bill stopped beside Charlie.
“Good to see you again, old man,” the sheriff said.
“You can thank me later,” Charlie said. Outside in the cavern the flare fizzled and steamed, burning itself out. Shadows grew darker.
“Weemean,” the chorus sounded from the passageways, deep and mournful.
“Time to go,” Charlie replied. He took another flare from the pocket of a flak jacket, pulled the thread and tossed it just past the mouth of the tunnel where they stood. “Lead on, Bill.”
“Where are we headed?”
“Down. As far down as we can go. It’s the only way out that I know of.”
They turned away as the second flare exploded in light. It threw flickering shadows ahead of them as they descended.
There was no time for questions. The sheriff led the way, with Doc at his side. Fred and Sarah, still hand in hand, followed, with Charlie and the Simmons woman bringing up the rear. Charlie barked out directions every time they came to a junction in an authoritative voice that brooked no argument.
They went down.
There was no further sign of the demons, but they heard them well enough, the chant, constant now, coming down the tunnel behind them.
Weemean.
“Shouldn’t we be going up?” Sarah whispered.
Fred didn’t answer. He was remembering an earlier conversation with Charlie, back before everything went to hell. Charlie had been talking about old man Hopman.
He had some kind of operation going on down at the deepest level.
“I think I know where Charlie’s heading,” he finally replied. “But I ain’t too sure we’re going to like what we find there.”
23
Janet stayed close to Big Bill as they headed down. It was getting warmer, and drier. The air tasted like stale smoke, tickling at the back of her throat. The flickering beam of the rifle-mounted flashlight started to give her a tension headache behind her left eye. She looked down, concentrating on the ground underfoot, following the parallel tracks. They were clearer here, as if used more recently.
It seemed that Charlie was following the same route. Every direction he gave always had a set of tracks at their feet. Janet saw signs that they were in worked tunnels; shoring timbers, tool marks on the rock, and even a small pile of ancient cigarette butts against the wall. And it became even more obvious when they passed through a completely timbered section and walked past an overturned cart that was too rusted up to move.
“Nearly there,” Charlie called out. “Just keep moving.”
Nearly where?
The chanting behind them seemed farther away now, as if whatever had attacked them had given up the chase. Now that there was some distance from the event, Janet’s thoughts turned from immediate survival to trying to rationalize what happened. But no matter how much she wanted it to make sense, a solution continued to elude her. Matters did not become any clearer when they arrived at the destination Charlie had been leading them to.
She knew they were there when Bill stopped suddenly, and swore loudly.
“Shit, Charlie. Where have you brought us?”
They looked out over a larger chamber. The far side was dominated by what looked like a recent collapse. What little light there was came up out of the hole, red and flickering, as if there were flames burning in the deep. Charlie and Ellen Simmons joined the other four at the tunnel mouth, looking out. The older man pointed to the left. There were two further tunnels there.
“The left one is a bunker, I think; old man Hopman’s bolt hole. The right one leads to a storeroom, then up and out to daylight. That’s the way we go.”
“What was over there?” Fred Grant asked, pointing at the smoking hole.
“That was where the old man dumped all the chemical shit. We shouldn’t go anywhere near it.”
Janet almost laughed.
“I wasn’t about to,” she said.
Big Bill looked up the tunnel behind them.
“You take the lead this time, Charlie. You know where you’re going. I’ll watch our backs.”
Janet hung back as the others moved out so that she could stay beside Bill.
Charlie led them around the wall of the cavern. He walked past the leftmost entrance without a glance. When Janet passed it, she glanced into the tunnel mouth. There was indeed a heavy iron door there, less than six feet away. It was closed, and despite her curiosity, she felt no immediate desire to see if it was locked. With Bill at her back she followed the others into the right-hand tunnel.
The walls flickered with dancing shadows on a shifting red background, like a disco in a nightmare. Charlie raised a clenched fist, and went still. The rest took their cue from the older man and stopped. The only sound was a distant crackle of flames.
Then they heard it, coming from straight ahead, the now-feared chant, coming from a multitude of voices.
“Weemean.”
The chant got closer.
Charlie looked around.
“Fight or flight?” he asked. He held two flares in his spare hand, the rifle in the other. “This is all we’ve got.”
“I can’t go back the way we came,” Ellen Simmons said, a note of pleading in her voice. “I just can’t.”