“This is a bag of dicks,” shouted Mairo as the armor truck bounced and banged down the old road. “Why are we doing this again?”
“Because the boss wants it done. I know it was a last minute customer, but he’s paying out the butt for us to come pick up his money.” I yelled back at Mario.
“I did not spend twenty five years in the United States Marine Corps to have my back blown out in a beat up P.O.S. truck on some godforsaken backroad in the northwoods Alex.” Why could we not have the nicer truck? Oh yeah, because someone blew a tire out on it and it’s still at the shop waiting to get repaired.” He said, his voice dripping with disdain.
“Oh sure, blame me. I didn’t do anything, I wasn’t the driver.” I shot back.
“Well who else am I going to blame? Mike quit and that just leaves you.”
“It’s just around the corner. Look, I can see the welcome sign,” I said. Next to the road was a twenty foot wooden cutout of an old western prosecutor resting his arms on the handle of a pickaxe with a speech bubble saying, Silver head mine tours- just turn left in 200 feet to go down as deep at 9,000 feet. A smaller sign next to it read, Haunted mine tours every weekend in October. Mairo let out a snort and said “We are up north, why is there a western style prosecutor on the sign and a second thing the prosecutor is the one looking for gold and the miners mine it? That just doesn’t make sense.”
“Let’s just get this stop done and go home. It will be sundown soon and I don’t want to be out here In the dark.” I said. We pulled into the parking lot of the mine and saw what appeared to be a giant tower above the tall trees surrounding it. The mine elevator tower with its exposed metal frame looked like some long lost relic from a forgotten time. Next to the tower was a log cabin building that had a white painted sign that said Cook Shanty which was squeezed between the building and tower as if it was an afterthought. A small, free standing building that said Tickets stood nearby. Mairo stopped the truck between a small two story cabin and the cook shanty.
I hopped out of the truck and turned to Mairo. “Hey Buddy, you want anything while I’m in there? Maybe some crayons to eat? I know you Marines love to eat crayons,” I quipped.
“Hey,” Mario snapped back, “You never served in the armed forces, you don’t get to make fun of them, and the Salvation Army does not count as the army.”
I flipped Mairo the bird and closed the truck door.
I walked up to the ticket booth to the sound of thumbs tapping away on a phone accompanied by the soft hum of a single overhead light bulb. An attractive, fit, blond woman was behind the thin pane of glass inside the booth. Without looking up from her phone she said, “Can I help you?” The constant tapping sounded like she was going for a speed record of typing War and Peace on her phone.
“Yeah, I’m here to do a cash pick up. I was wondering if you could tell me where the cash office is.” The woman, whose name was Samantha, according to her nametag, looked up at me.
She gave me a wicked grin and said, “Oh, it’s in the mine. You’ll have to take the elevator and walk down the tunnel until you see a door on your right. You can head right in. They….. I mean Mark will be waiting for you.”
I walked back to the truck to tell Mario the plan and then headed for the elevator.
As I walked up to the elevator tower, I could see that the metal frame was all scratched up as if some monster attacked it. This immediately put me on edge. I scanned the tree line as I walked, leery of my surroundings as always. I stepped into the elevator. The floor and ceiling was made of plexiglass or some other transparent material. A down, up, and stop button were the only controls in the elevator. I closed the doors and pressed the down button. The elevator went down flawlessly for a few hundred feet then stopped. A loud bang echoed through the shaft so loud I thought it was a gunshot. I looked up at the glass ceiling and to my horror the cables attached to the top of the elevator began to break one by one. It was terrifying to watch. Every time a cable broke, the elevator would fall a few feet. With one cable remaining, I watched as the elevator groaned and shifted. Then with one last POP, the cable broke and the elevator began rocking towards the bottom at terminal velocity. The end of the cables whipped around the slipstream. The breaks on the side activated and sparks flew everywhere. With the speed and force of a free fall, the brakes were ripped off the elevator. Looking down, I could see the bottom approaching fast. This is how you go out Alex, in an elevator. Man, my wife will not be happy about this. I thought. I could feel tears run down my cheeks, knowing I had but seconds left on this earth to live. I said a prayer and at the last second I jumped into the air.
The elevator came to a fast but safe stop. I looked up to see the ceiling which was now black. A voice from the speakers said, “Thank you for riding the runway elevator. We hope you enjoy the rest of your tour at the cursed Silver Head Mine.”
I opened the doors, stepped out of the elevator and almost collapsed on the cold mine floor. My hands were shaking. Not freaking funny, I thought to myself as I stood there regaining my composure. I took out my cell phone ready to call the boss and tell him I’m done. Too bad so sad for this money pickup. It was then that I noticed I had no service this far underground. Might as well get this over with, I thought as I began shakily walking. I came across a TV mounted to the rock wall of the mine. A green flashing button that said, “Play” caught my attention. Boss makes a dollar, I make a dime. That’s why I watch TV on company time. I figured why not and decided to press the play button.
Cheesy western music started up along with pictures of the mine as the narration began. “Back in 1869,” Ha 69 nice, I laughed to myself. “This mine was started by a man named Gorge Ravenswood better known by his friends as Henry. The mine soon became prosperous. One day a sinkhole appeared on the surface. The Native Americans assumed it was because the mine was cursed with Wiowalks. These creatures have been described as a half man half praying mantis with a rattlesnake tail. They make the sound of a hissing cat and are said to suck the soul out of any man, woman, or child it encounters. An earthquake trapped several miners in the mine. George bravely led the rescue party himself and died during the rescue mission of the trapped miners. Some say the ‘Curse of the Wiowalks’ still exists and was cited for the number of disappearances throughout the national park.”
I finished listening and let out a snort. I started walking and thought, “I feel like I’m not getting the full story. Either that or they are using a so-called curse to cover up for poor mine safety. I walked down the mine tunnel and stopped once I reached the fork where it split into two different tunnels. The pretty blond said to go to the left and open the first door on the right. I took the tunnel to the left, on my way past old mining equipment and a TV with a green button next to it. I pressed the button and the TV turned on. This time, the video gave information about the equipment and how it was used. I was walking for a while when I heard a hiss like escaping air. I walked towards the sound and saw an old pneumatic drill leaking air. I continued walking down the mineshaft and heard another hissing sound. Must just be another piece of mining equipment. Well, I looked around and did not see anything. I discovered that the sound was coming from a smaller tunnel on the left. I shined my flashlight into it and was able to make out a quick flash of white going upwards which was followed by small rocks falling down.
“What the hell was that?” I said to myself as I brought my hand down slowly to my pistol holster at my hip. Just resting my hand on it gave me the reassurance that I could handle anything down here, curse or not. I walked for a while longer and was about to give up and walk back when I saw a figure. It was tall and built like a house with a high and tight haircut. He turned and looked at me, but before I could call out to him he turned right and walked out of sight. I swear he just walked into the wall of the mine. I quickly moved to find him and found a door on the right side of the mine. Above the door, carved in old wood was the word, Bathhouse. I pushed the door open and began to walk down the dark tunnel.
I began walking down the dark tunnel. My boots echoed off the mine shaft walls. How far does this tunnel go and what happened to the guy I just saw? I wondered to myself. I could hear a faint sound growing louder with each step. I walked into an open cavern to the sound of a waterfall. I shined my flashlight all around and down into a lake below. I let out a whistle. “That’s a long way down,” I said out loud as I shuffled to the edge of the cliff. A few light bulbs illuminated the steps that were carved out of stone that led to a rock slab below. Where did this guy go? This place is a dead end, maybe he went… My thoughts were interrupted when a sound that was very off putting could be heard. It sounded like popcorn popping mixed with the sound of an old creaking door. I felt the ground shift. I pointed my flashlight down in time to see a crack form in the rock. I spun on my heels, preparing to run. As I pushed off with my back leg, my brain registered the horrifying feeling of nothing below my feet, followed by the sensation of freefall.
The forty foot fall lasted about a second and a half before I hit the water. This gave me just enough time to cross my feet and tuck my arms against my chest. I did not know how deep the water was, but I figured being a human lawn dart was my best move. My flashlight still clutched in my left hand smacked into my face when I hit the water. I tried my best to stay calm but with the inky blackness of the water I could not tell what way was up. Luckily the flashlight still worked. I dropped it and saw it fall up. Oh crap I must be upside down. I managed to grab the flashlight before it fell out of my reach and I accidentally turned it off. I began swimming for all my worth. It felt like I was getting nowhere. I have to ditch my vest I thought. I reluctantly undid the quick release straps and let it fall below. I was almost to the surface when I felt my foot catch on something. I looked down and screamed as a large, pale white hand wrapped around my leg. I hit it twice with my flashlight, but with the angle I was at, I could not get any power behind my swings. I was running out of air, and blackness started filling my vision. It was like looking through a keyhole.
The lack of oxygen to my brain was causing me to hallucinate images of my wife and dogs. When a hand shot into the water, I grabbed it and the person started to pull. My head broke the surface and I gasped for air. I got one big lung full before I got pulled back under the water by whatever had my leg. I kicked as hard as I could at the inhuman size hand and keeped a grip on the person’s arm as if my life depended on it, which it did. The hand let go of my leg and I was pulled out of the water. I crawled onto the hard rocks. I coughed and hacked up water and was able to regain my breath. Rolling onto my back, I managed to croak out a thank you between coughs. I shined my flashlight at my savior. It was a female with long, jet black hair. When she opened her eyes, emerald green looked back at me. I gasped and dropped my flashlight. It hit the hard stone ground and winked out. I heard a voice whisper out of the darkness and into my ear, “Bye officer.”
I fumbled around in the dark until I found my flash light and turned it on. The room was empty. I looked all around but no one was there. It was like she vanished . My legs were shaking and I sat down on a rock next to the underground lake. I know those eyes. I’ve seen those eyes before. Then it hit me like a freight train at full speed. The last time I saw her was roughly eight years ago, on the last traffic stop I did. On what could only have been the last normal day of my life. As I sat on a rock thinking about that day, I put the flashlight between my legs on the ground with its beam pointed at the lake. Suddenly, a wet smack echoed on the rocks. I looked down to see the large, pale white hand. It was the same hand that tried to keep me under the water. Another loud smack sounded as a second hand appeared on the rocks near me. A pale white head slowly appeared from out of the water. I noticed that it had no eyes, just a mouth and small slits where its nose should be. Behind the creature, a rattlesnake tail broke the surface and began to shake. I sat there, more fascinated than scared of the monster. When it got about two feet from me it tilted its head sideways like a curious puppy might do. I felt a light tug as if something was pulling towards the creature’s open mouth. I began to feel weak. My skin looked sickly and pale. It’s hard to explain, but it felt like my energy was being pulled from my body. I had to act fast since I could feel my body becoming weaker. I smoothly pulled out my sidearm, pointed it at this thing’s head. My muzzle was only a few inches away as I fired.
The Wiowalk’s head flung back and almost instantly it felt like my being was snapped back into my body. It was like it was attached to a rubber band. The color returned to my skin along with a resurgence of energy. It felt like I slammed a Rip-It energy drink. The Wiowalk’s head slowly moved back to face me with a wickedly evil grin on its face. I could see the small 40 caliber hole that was dead center on its forehead. It began to open its mouth and I fired two more rounds into its large forehead. The Wiowalk began to sway in the water as if he was drunk. I shot it four more times. The hands that were gripping the rocking floor lost their hold and the creature’s lifeless body flopped into the water with all the grace of a ten year old pushed off the high dive at the public pool.
“Well look at that, I killed the Wiowalk. The curse is broken, I’m a hero!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I heard a splash and spun around to see three more of them now standing on the rocks. They were eight feet tall and ugly as all get out. I fired two rounds into each of the Wiowalks. They swayed as before but did not go down. I fired two more times and then the slide on my pistol locked back. They must have known my Glock was empty somehow because as I was trying to change magazines they rushed me. Knowing I was not going to be able to reload in time, I scooped up the flashlight and threw it at the closest Wiowalk. It sailed harmlessly past him and clattered onto the ground behind them. I closed my eyes and held my breath waiting for the impact to knock me over but nothing happened. I opened my eyes and it was pitch black. I activated my weapon’s light, and I saw the three Wiowalks near the flashlight I threw. I shined my weapon’s light right at them but they did not notice. I turned the light to strobe, turning the whole cave into one big ass techno club, but still nothing. They must locate their prey based on sound I realized.
I slowly made my way up the steps and out of the cave. I was two steps from the top when I felt my nose tickle. A sneeze was coming. I tried my hardest to hold it back. My nose began to burn and my eyes watered. Unable to stop it, I let out a loud sneeze. That alerted every Wiowalk in the cave. Crap! I shouted in my head as I took off running to the sound of sharp claws on stone closing in on me fast. I reached the end of the tunnel and went right back down the way I came. I slipped on a wet patch of the floor of the tunnel and fell. This caused me to grip down harder on my pistol and my finger slipped into the trigger guard and resulted in an accidental discharge. That’s piss poor trigger discipline Alex. I thought I saw the round skim along the ground, hit a rock and ricochet around the tunnel. The Wiowalks stopped and their heads snapped back and forth trying to get a fix on the sound of the bullet as it bounced off the hard surface of the tunnel. Ok maybe I can get out of this. I was hopeful until I slowly and quietly got to my feet and saw dozens upon dozens of the creatures crammed shoulder to shoulder with each other along with a few of them crawling on the ceiling of the tunnel.
One of the Wiowalks locked onto me. I don’t know if it was the sound of my breath or just bad luck, but it let out a hiss and lunged. I pointed my pistol at a forty-five degree angle from the tunnel wall and fired. The sound from the gun discharging was overwhelming and the discomfort to my ears almost caused me to scream in pain. I could not hear it, but from the way the Wiowalks heads were moving I knew my bullet was bouncing off the walls. This gave me the few seconds I needed to run. I was in fairly good shape and with my bullet resistant vest now somewhere at the bottom of the lake, it made running much easier. I was going at a dead sprint with what can only be described as military grade tendinitis ringing in my ear. Not wanting to look back, I did a ten count in my head and cracked a round off behind me. It must have worked. The mind does some crazy thing under stress. I actually started laughing thinking about how this was just like my experience in the northwoods.
“Hey, if it’s not broken don’t fix it,” I said, although I was unable to hear my words thanks to the gunshot. I could see the elevator up ahead when one of the Wiowalks came out from a hole in the tunnel’s ceiling and landed in front of me. I fired a round at the wall behind me and brought the pistol around to fire in front of me. I pulled the trigger but nothing happened. Out of instinct and years of training, muscle memory kicked in. I brought the gun up to my face, tapped the mag, and rolled the gun so the ejection port was facing down and racked the slide. The undischarged round ejected out and the slide locked back. I released the empty mag, inserted a fresh magazine and racked the slide. This occurred a lot faster than the time it would take to explain my actions. With the pistol back in battery, I pointed it at the Wiowalk. While still running, I shot every round in the magazine but missed a lot out of the fifteen rounds. I think three might have hit the Wiowalk’s center mass, which did nothing to the demon. I had just enough time to holster my pistol, put my head down and body check the creature. Given the mass and size of the Wiowalk, I pushed it back a foot and stopped. I felt its long, bony fingers wrap around the back of my duty belt and pick me up. I was face to face with the Wiowalk. It tilted its head at me and looked at me quizzically. I thought about going with my sidearm but because it’s out of ammo, that little voice in the back of my head told me I would not be fast enough. I could see that one of my bullets hit the Wiowalk’s upper cheek. Black, almost oil-like liquid oozed out of the wound. The Wiowalk lifted his tail and rattled it back and forth as if to call the others.
I was trying to stay calm, just knowing that any sudden movement would cause the Wiowalk to attack. I could not figure out why it held me here suspended in the air. Was it waiting for the others to show up? All of this raced around in my mind as my hand brushed against the pocket on my tactical pants. The magazine. The empty mag from my pistol was in my pocket. I took it out and an idea formed in my head. I started banging the baseplate of the mag against the steel toe of my work boot. The spring inside the mag was letting out what I assumed was a twang with each hit. Twang…..twang…..twang. His mouth opened and I could feel life being drained from my body. A sound like a waterfall came out of me. I felt my body get flung forward, the grip on my duty belt slipping off the Wiowalk’s hands.
I landed hard on the ground, quickly rolled over and I could see what looked like three or four of the Wiowalks entangled on the ground. I took the empty mag and threw it as far as I could. I can’t believe that worked, I thought to myself. The Wiowalks that were chasing me heard the twang of my empty magazines hitting my boot and just attacked the sound, which happened to be the Wiowalk that was holding me. I ran to the elevator and closed the gate as the creatures were starting to untangle themselves. More started to come towards me and to my horror I saw that one of the bullets I fired at a dead run found its mark. It was dead center in the elevator control panel. The up button was intact thank god, but the stop and down button were obliterated. I pressed the up button so hard I could feel my thumb pop. The elevator rocketed upward. I flipped them the bird as the Wiowalks began to shrink below me.
Once the elevator reached the top, I got out and started to speed walk away. My ears were still ringing. It was a loud buzzing sound that made everything sound like I had a wool blanket wrapped around my head. I then remembered my sidearm. I stopped walking to reload it. As I did so, I noticed something odd. All the clicks and clacks you would expect to hear were not there. It was like someone just turned my life on mute. Just then, I heard a muffled sound like someone yelling. I had just holstered my gun when I heard it again. Looking up, I realized that I was in line with the cook shanty, the armored truck was barely visible. The dome light was on but no one was in the driver’s seat.
I heard the same voice from the mine whisper to me again, “Run you idiot!” I took off at a sprint toward the armored truck. I managed a few steps, before I saw movement in the shadows between the armored truck and the cook shanty. A figure appeared holding a rifle and leveling it at me. It was then that I heard a voice clear as day. This voice sounded like it belonged to someone who spent most of their existence yelling at people. Someone who used to give orders.
The voice yelled, “ALEX, DOWN NOW!” I dove to the ground as fast as I could, actually getting mad that gravity would not let me fall faster. A thunderous BOOM… BOOM… BOOM from a rifle could be heard as it began to fire a slow steady boom like the bass at a nightclub. I looked up to see two very well polished boots at eye level with me, followed by hot metal which landed on my neck. I rolled over to see Mairo with his M1a Socom, which is a shorter modern version of the US military’s M14. The stock was against his shoulder and his shooting posture was perfect. He was banging away with that rifle, a shot being fired every second like the world’s deadliest metronome. He swapped out his empty magazine in a blur and continued firing. With each muzzle flash, I could see his face like a snapshot. Each time the rifle boomed, he was grinning from ear to ear which made him look thirty years younger. He was a happy Marine.