Short story: Warning: it is bad. or at least, I haven't read back over it. Consider it a speed writing practice. Time to finish: About ten twenty thirty minutes.
Brian clambered through the caves. They were old lava tubes -known locally as the Ape Caves- that spanned deep into the heart of Mt. Rainier. Normally there was a flat surface where the lava had cooled, but here he walked across boulders that had once been the low-hanging roof.
He had been going for a while, with his food and supplies. This part of the caves was far past where the roof was safely braced, but also far past where the game warden was willing to search. It was cold here, but still warm enough to stay the night with his stove. The wind ran deep into the further passages, as if the mountain itself were breathing- maybe it went all the way to the other side. Brian crawled into a corner, hidden from wind and gazing eyes by the rocks. He was so tired, he almost didn't notice the dead body.
It was no shocker. Brian had seen a stiff before, and with this he reassured himself enough to focus his headlamp on the body. He had not seen one before in unmarked combat armor. With assault weapons. Brian checked through this almost, eagerly, before he stopped in disgust at what he was doing. He also noticed blood on his hands- lots. Not wanting to be accused of more than killing animals, he sought to wash this off in the trickle of water that ran alongside the edge of the broad passage, of fresh spring runoff. The stream went to untold depths within the graven halls- running red for a short time, and then pure again.
There he noticed a little recording device. The stiff, as he now had named him, must have dropped it. Unable to resist his curiosity, Brian fumbled with the buttons the tiny LED display showed 'RWD'. Then it went to 'STP' of its own, and he fumbled with it some more until it said 'PLA'. And then it sounded its recording:
"It sure is dark here." Said a young voice.
"Keep it quiet, Bravo. Alpha, Charlie, ping out." Said a deeper one.
A few others rang in- "Connected" and "Still here sir." said a third and fourth voice.
There was some silence and footfalls, then the deep voice spoke softly: "At you positions?"
"Yeah." and from the other, "Confirmed. I have found the clown car, repear, I have found the clown car."
"Good work, Joson!" Exclaimed the deep voice. Then he regained his cool: "Alright, do you see the package?"
"Yes- lots of loose funnite here, sir." answered the one now known as Joson.
"Take as much as you can quietly carry."
The third voice chimed in: "I have my position at Joson's back sir. The package is... really quite beautiful."
"Sure is dark here."
The deep voice started up again in anger: "I told you to stay QUIET soldier! Do you know what would happen if we were heard?!"
Then, there was a loud noise that fouled up the audio- maybe it had a limit on how loudly it could play back a sound.
Joson spoke: "It's Bravo sir- he's in the clown car! How did he even get in there so fast? He's... he's lost his wits, sir... is he even alive? There's organs everywhere... SHIT- clowns spotted, repeat, clowns spotted!" There were gunshots. And then screams. And the loud noises didn't stop.
The deep voice sounded scary in its own right when it wasn't trying to be quiet. "Charlie, you get out of there NOW! You hear me? ABORT!"
'Charlie' spoke with the aspect of one fey. "No! The adamantine! I've just got to get a little sir! I've never seen anything like it..."
The deeper voice was running. After some shooting, he seems to have lobbed a grenade. An explosion rocked the caves, and rocks crashed about. But it seemed he had been wounded. There was a lot of labored breathing. And after a while, the man with the recorder laid down to rest.
Brian looked up. He had been riveted to his seat (a rock) while the recording had played. It seemed clear that this was the man with the deep voice from the recording... and then, there was a deep, terrible rumble from within the mountain.
Brian thought at first, it was only the rumbling of shifting rock- the tectonic activity the area was famous for. But no, it happened again- now it was closer. Louder. Clearer. His long days of hunting told him that this was not the roar of a mountain. It was the roar of a hungering animal that had tasted blood.
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Topic: Sensei Writes a Short Story (Read 1447 times)