The Pit
by Bill Robertson
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Swearwords: None.
Description: An archaeological expedition gets more than it bargained for.
_____________________________________________________________________
‘This way, Sir,’ Drummond said as Porteous stepped out of the basket.
Porteous followed the younger man through the tunnel. The stifling heat of the jungle lay over a hundred feet above and the walls sweated and ran with constant moisture. A cool draft teased his exposed skin. There were no mosquitoes this far down either, which he supposed was a blessing. He detested the bitter taste of the quinine pills the Professor insisted the men take daily.
‘How is the dig progressing?’
‘We seem to be back on schedule now.’ The locals Drummond had hired had strong backs and toiled night and day for their few pennies.
‘Just as well – London is becoming impatient. Several telegrams have arrived insisting that we make haste.’
‘Yes, Sir, I realise that but…’ Drummond hesitated.
‘Well? What is it? Out with it, man.’
‘With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think they appreciate our difficulties. The locals say this place is haunted. It took a lot of persuading to get them to overcome their reluctance to dig here.’
‘Stuff and nonsense, lad,’ Porteous snorted. ‘Let me tell you, I have travelled far and wide and I’ve yet to encounter anything that can’t be seen off with a taste of cold steel.’
‘If you say so, Sir.’
The tunnel broadened out into a wider cavern. Porteous could hear the scrape of shovels from up ahead.
‘Are you sure the map is correct?’
‘Positive, Sir. It took us a while to translate all the information on it but this is the place all right.’
The map had passed through several sets of hands before coming into the possession of Porteous’ employer. It purported to show an ancient burial site hidden deep in the jungle where untold riches were said to lie. Porteous had been hired to lead the expedition – a task which he had gladly accepted. Civilian life was far too mundane for his tastes, although the heat made his old wounds throb.
There was a sudden clamour of voices raised in agitation. One of the workers, his face streaked with dirt, ran up to the two men jabbering excitedly.
‘He says they’ve found something,’ Drummond translated once he got the man to calm down.
The diggers stood at the edge of the shallow pit as if unsure what to do next; a few shifted from foot to foot nervously. A stone casket lay at the bottom of the hole. Porteous could see the intricate carvings decorating its surface even through the dirt.
‘Out of my way,’ Porteous said, shoving them aside. He grabbed a pick from one of the men and jumped into the hole. He grunted as he hefted it over his head and brought it down to strike the stone.
A flash of light burst from the shattered casket, consuming all of the men. It burst through the tunnels and shot up to the surface. When it subsided the excavation had been erased and only the sounds of the living jungle remained.
Swearwords: None.
Description: An archaeological expedition gets more than it bargained for.
_____________________________________________________________________
‘This way, Sir,’ Drummond said as Porteous stepped out of the basket.
Porteous followed the younger man through the tunnel. The stifling heat of the jungle lay over a hundred feet above and the walls sweated and ran with constant moisture. A cool draft teased his exposed skin. There were no mosquitoes this far down either, which he supposed was a blessing. He detested the bitter taste of the quinine pills the Professor insisted the men take daily.
‘How is the dig progressing?’
‘We seem to be back on schedule now.’ The locals Drummond had hired had strong backs and toiled night and day for their few pennies.
‘Just as well – London is becoming impatient. Several telegrams have arrived insisting that we make haste.’
‘Yes, Sir, I realise that but…’ Drummond hesitated.
‘Well? What is it? Out with it, man.’
‘With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think they appreciate our difficulties. The locals say this place is haunted. It took a lot of persuading to get them to overcome their reluctance to dig here.’
‘Stuff and nonsense, lad,’ Porteous snorted. ‘Let me tell you, I have travelled far and wide and I’ve yet to encounter anything that can’t be seen off with a taste of cold steel.’
‘If you say so, Sir.’
The tunnel broadened out into a wider cavern. Porteous could hear the scrape of shovels from up ahead.
‘Are you sure the map is correct?’
‘Positive, Sir. It took us a while to translate all the information on it but this is the place all right.’
The map had passed through several sets of hands before coming into the possession of Porteous’ employer. It purported to show an ancient burial site hidden deep in the jungle where untold riches were said to lie. Porteous had been hired to lead the expedition – a task which he had gladly accepted. Civilian life was far too mundane for his tastes, although the heat made his old wounds throb.
There was a sudden clamour of voices raised in agitation. One of the workers, his face streaked with dirt, ran up to the two men jabbering excitedly.
‘He says they’ve found something,’ Drummond translated once he got the man to calm down.
The diggers stood at the edge of the shallow pit as if unsure what to do next; a few shifted from foot to foot nervously. A stone casket lay at the bottom of the hole. Porteous could see the intricate carvings decorating its surface even through the dirt.
‘Out of my way,’ Porteous said, shoving them aside. He grabbed a pick from one of the men and jumped into the hole. He grunted as he hefted it over his head and brought it down to strike the stone.
A flash of light burst from the shattered casket, consuming all of the men. It burst through the tunnels and shot up to the surface. When it subsided the excavation had been erased and only the sounds of the living jungle remained.
About the Author
Born in Perth and now living just outside Aberdeen, Bill Robertson has created a large body of work showcasing a tendency towards the darker side of life and stories which leave an indelible impression on the reader long after the final word is read.
An active member of Aberdeen’s Lemon Tree Writer’s Group, Bill’s work has appeared in Journeys, an anthology of work from the group, and most recently in a chapbook, Himself by the Seaside. He has performed some of his stories as part of the Word and New Words festivals and other events around the north-east. He has also self published two e-books: Reindeer Dust, a short Christmas story, and When the Revolution Comes, a collection of linked short stories concerning an uprising in a fictional eastern European country. A number of his stories have featured on the website http://www.shortbreadstories.co.uk, where he has been chosen as the featured Friday story a number of times and has won a number of competitions with his short stories and flash fiction pieces.
If you would like to hear an interview with Bill and listen to him read some of his work, please go to this link to hear Bill’s appearance on Mearns FM's Smith on Sunday show. You can also keep up to date with Bill’s work by visiting http://www.billrobertson55.wordpress.com, where he often shares work in progress as well as finished stories.
An active member of Aberdeen’s Lemon Tree Writer’s Group, Bill’s work has appeared in Journeys, an anthology of work from the group, and most recently in a chapbook, Himself by the Seaside. He has performed some of his stories as part of the Word and New Words festivals and other events around the north-east. He has also self published two e-books: Reindeer Dust, a short Christmas story, and When the Revolution Comes, a collection of linked short stories concerning an uprising in a fictional eastern European country. A number of his stories have featured on the website http://www.shortbreadstories.co.uk, where he has been chosen as the featured Friday story a number of times and has won a number of competitions with his short stories and flash fiction pieces.
If you would like to hear an interview with Bill and listen to him read some of his work, please go to this link to hear Bill’s appearance on Mearns FM's Smith on Sunday show. You can also keep up to date with Bill’s work by visiting http://www.billrobertson55.wordpress.com, where he often shares work in progress as well as finished stories.