Only In Darkness

Chapter 1-2

Martin began to squeeze the two-way again, but then wondered what he would say. Even he didn't know how to explain what he'd seen. He kept watching to see if it would reappear.

"Martin?" Charlie asked. "You there?"

"It's nothing," Martin assured him, but it was something. And he wondered if the heat was making him weak.

Then, as he was lost in thought, looking up at the ominous sight he had just witnessed, the outcropping he had been searching for came into view just a few yards from where he was hanging.

Martin paused, stunned at the way it had happened. He was still disturbed by the odd face in the crevice, and now this. For so many months, he had planned and researched this very moment. And in the acres of an unforgiving expanse of hardened lava, he was now at the needle of that immense haystack he had set out to explore.

He could hear his breathing inside his head.

This is really it, he thought. About twenty feet over, a discernible ledge was jutting from the face yet sheltered from the sun, wind, and rain. He grabbed onto the craggy cliff and moved like a clinging spider toward it.

Charlie must have felt the slack in the rope and called over the two-way, panicked. "Martin, what's happening?"

Martin didn't pause his crawl to answer. He continued until he reached the ledge and could stand freely on it. He took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling at his triumph. "I think I found it," he finally called to Charlie. "It's about twenty feet to your right. I'm standing on the ledge right now. It's about thirty feet across and maybe five feet out. The cave is pretty deep from what I can see and feel from here. I think this is really it!"

"Anything else?" Charlie asked, alluding to his hope that the treasure they both wanted to find still rested somewhere on that outcrop.

Martin was unhooking the carabiners from his halter and freeing himself of the ropes. He nodded in response to the anxious demands of the radio. Still, he didn’t speak as he began to walk along the outcropping, studying the stony surface for any sign of the remains they hoped to find.

The journal had mentioned the bones being sheltered by an alcove on the outcropping. He looked specifically for an area that fit that description and saw a lip on the far side of the ledge that was curved and smooth, unlike the rest of the jagged surfaces. He started to walk to it, but as he passed by the cave's opening, something caught his eye, and he stopped.

In the darkness, he thought he saw eyes. Red and glowing orbs set back into the black cavern. Was it an animal? A marmot or a badger, perhaps. He stood staring back at the eyes watching him. A sick chill went through him as the thought of that face came back into his mind. Were these the eyes of that face? Of that creature? The eyes blinked, and Martin swallowed and took a step back.

"Well?" Charlie's voice crackled from the radio, shooting Martin's heart through his chest.

Martin grabbed for the radio at his shoulder and squeezed the call button. "I'm…" he looked up, and the eyes were gone. “I'm looking," he said absently. It took a moment to shake the jolt from his chest. Taking a few deep breaths, he continued to peer into the darkness, searching for the red flashes of light. When they didn't reappear, he brushed the incident aside and walked to the bowed-out edge for what he had intended to find. It was just as the journal had described; however, there were no immediate signs of bones.

He brushed the dust away from the floor of the concaved area, hoping maybe he had missed something. He searched the crevices and around the outside of the bowl-shaped area, but there was nothing to be found. He stood and took hold of the radio.

"I found the area, but there's nothing here," he called to Martin. "I'm going to take some photos, and then check the cave."

"Nothing?" Charlie called back, sounding disappointed.

Martin rolled his eyes. It was as though Charlie was questioning his thoroughness. It was a constant irritation. Martin was well-aware he wasn't tenured like Charlie and had fewer years at the university, but his research was just as well-received, and his writings were far more extensive when it came to national publications. The only thing Charlie had on him was age, and that is why Martin was the one hanging from ropes and scaling cliffs while Charlie stood watching at the belay and finding fault whenever possible.

Charlie's original research partner hadn’t even been able to hike the small path to the trailhead, let alone climb through the lava beds and granite walls to find their discoveries. Yet, when Martin and Charlie returned with whatever information they gathered, it would be Clinton Gregerson Charlie would call.

Professor Clinton Gregerson, the great archeologist who never discovered anything, but because of a journalist niece, was the subject of several sensational articles that placed him in the center of research and discoveries where Martin had done the majority of the legwork and actual unearthing, not to mention gaining a number of stitches and losing a tooth in the process.

Dr. Gregerson had always been gracious and, quite frankly, appreciative, both publicly and privately of the work Martin did. Still, Charlie's constant fawning served to wipe away any positive feelings Martin had for the professor.

Martin took his camera and snapped several photos of the wall, alcove, ledge, and the view to the top. He then clicked on the light of his helmet and hesitantly walked into the entry of the cave. Again, he scanned the area for the red-eyed animal—no need for a surprise encounter with a badger or cougar to ruin the outing and lay him up for days or weeks with another injury. He didn't carry a g*n, but had a can of bear spray. Of course, using that within the small confines of a cave could be disastrous, making him wonder why he had it at all. He'd never had a bad encounter with anything other than a snake. That was a near-miss, but he was still always cautious. He knew that most critters would rather avoid humans, so he clapped his hands several times to scare off whatever belonged to those eyes.

The entrance of the cavern was wide and deeper than he expected. He was surprised there were no ledges or crevices along the walls because the eyes he saw weren't low to the ground but rather at eye level, and an animal would have had to be perched on something to be that height. He continued to look, convinced what he saw was simply one of the native creatures that inhabit the lava tubes, and nothing more.

The light bounced off the rough surfaces and then disappeared down a large black corridor. He paused a moment, and then noticed something out of the corner of his eye. In the light of his headlamp, he saw markings on the walls above him. He carefully made his way into the darkness and closer to the markings.

The light on his helmet picked up jutting crags and crevices as he went, guiding him on where to place a foot or hand. When he reached the area, he pointed the helmet light upward, and there the ceiling of the cavern opened up to show large carved drawings covering the walls and top of the cavern.

It was then he realized he was standing in a large domed room, and even with the minute amount of light from his headlamp, he could see that the carvings were detailed and massive. He stood awestruck as the light followed each area of the room and each section of the incredible sight. It was both beautiful and horrifying. Large winged creatures, swooping and soaring all over the walls of the cavern. Dark bodies with blood dripping from their teeth, claw-like hands, and evil-filled eyes.

Martin quivered. The eyes. Those eyes.

He took his camera and clicked on one of the light cubes, and snapped more photos using the flash. He decided to go back out and relay what he'd found to Charlie.

As he turned back toward the corridor, he spotted something in the corner of the room. He directed his headlamp at it. It was a tomb—a coffin-sized stone box tucked into a cavity along the wall.

A chill went over him. Was this the alcove mentioned in the journal? Had he read the entry wrong?

The tomb was settled securely in the carved recess of the rock. Its placement, along with the ancient pictographs, equated in his mind to something remarkable. This was big.

He walked to it and ran his hand across the stone surface. There were markings carved into the heavy lid, and he removed his headlamp and held it directly toward the marks to see what they were. In the dim light, and with the dust, he couldn't make them out, but they were apparently writings, which excited him.

He felt along the edge of the lid and pushed it, moving it slightly open. He placed the headlamp back on his head and used both hands to give the heavy cover a solid heave, and was able to push it open enough to see inside.

At first, he thought the tomb was empty, but then he noticed a shimmer. He reached in and tried to touch it. Filling the box was a sand-like powder so fine, it danced in the movement of Martin's hand. The small specks danced and glistened. He felt nothing, but could see it, and the sight was mesmerizing.

"Oh my," he whispered. His breath made the crystal dust waft up toward his face and out of the box. It made him almost giggle with delight, and then he heard a clamor behind him, and he turned.

The headlamp caught a dark form flash from the room, and he heard the sound of steps.

"Who's there?" he called, surprised.

Only silence. He stood up and let the headlamp search the room.

"Hello?" he called again. His heart began to pound. He tried to tell himself it was the animal he had seen before, but he knew the steps were no animal. He took the bear spray from its holster and walked toward the corridor, back to the cave entrance. The face in the crevice, the red glowing eyes, and now this. He had seen enough to know something wasn't right, and it wasn't just his imagination playing games. He needed to get out of that hole, that dark trap, and get free. Screw the finding; he would come back—with others and a g*n.

He followed the path out with quick steps and felt his breathing release when the light from outside peaked through the rocks. Before even calling up to Charlie, he grabbed the rope, stepped into the harness, and latched the carabiner. He strapped himself in, took the radio, and made the call.

"Bring me up. I've found something amazing. It's this huge room. There are pictographs everywhere with…"

Martin stopped. Something was peering out from the darkness. The same red eyes.

"What?" Charlie prodded, anxious to hear.

Martin felt his stomach clench as he watched the eyes grow larger. They were coming toward him. He began to walk backward, pulled on the rope, and called frantically to Charlie, "Take up the slack! Take up the slack!"

He ran to the ledge and watched as eyes came out of the darkness. His entire body went weak at the sight of it. "Who are you?" he gasped into the radio before dropping it.

Charlie heard Martin’s frantic words, but was still pulling up the slack. He then felt the rope quickly lose tension. He gave it a hard tug and felt it give. He grabbed the radio. "Martin, what is it?"

There was only silence.

He called again and waited. He tried a third time and still nothing. He tied off the rope, went to the edge of the cliff, and bent down to see anything that could explain the problem.

From the cliff above, he could see what appeared to be Martin lying on the ledge. He strained in the afternoon heat of the sun to see more, but the distance and brightness were too much. From his perch above, he could see his comrade wasn't moving, so he went back to where he had tied off the rope and began to pull.

It was carrying Martin, but it was not the weight he expected. He tugged furiously and brought him up a reasonable distance, tied the rope off again, and went back to where he had looked over before.

He could see the top of Martin's helmet, and while still strapped into the harness, he looked limp, arms hanging at his sides. Charlie went back and again frantically began to pull. He heaved until he could see Martin's head at the edge of the cliff.

He tied off the rope and went to him quickly. He bent down and placed his hands under Martin's arms and began to pull him onto the cliff ledge. That is when he realized the reason the weight was so light. When he lifted Martin onto the edge, Charlie reeled back in horror. There was nothing more to Martin than a head, shoulders, and chest. From his waist down, there was nothing but b****y tendrils and dripping fluids. Something had torn Martin's body off at the waist.

Charlie fell to the rocks and scooted back, screaming uncontrollably. The jagged rocks cut into his hands and legs, but he felt nothing. His chest heaved as he clasped a bloodied hand to his mouth, horrified and stunned at what he saw. He scrambled up and began to run, stumbling over crags and fissures in the black lava terrace.

As he ran, he searched for signs of their vehicle, parked at the base of where they had begun their hike. Whatever got Martin would surely have heard his screams and know he was there. Charlie pushed himself onward, frantic, half-mumbling and half-praying, into the empty dry heat of the wicked desert. The truck was his only chance for shelter and escape, and he kept his focus forward, begging under his breath it would soon come into view. When it did, a small gasp of relief escaped him.

The spires of the sun beat down on him, and when he grabbed the handle of the truck door, he flinched back as it burned his palm. He grabbed it again and flung the door open. Once inside, he closed the door quickly, locking it as well as the passenger side. He frantically searched for the key. It wasn't in the ignition. He rummaged through the cup holders, glove box, and center console. It was Martin's truck, and Charlie's hopes sank as he realized the keys were probably in Martin's pocket.

He let out a defeated cry. He looked under the dash. He'd seen the hot-wiring of cars in the movies and television, but he wasn't a "car guy" and knew almost nothing more than checking the oil.

He looked over the sparse and arid land leading back to where his dead friend still hung. His heart pounded as the gruesome sight of Martin's body filled his mind. He felt his stomach heave as Martin's last words rang in his head. Who are you?

"Who?" Charlie whispered to himself, horrified at what that could mean and knowing that whoever did it was still out there.