Purgatory Story

by

Larry Eugene Meredith

They were in fine humor sliding down the rope into the pit. One of the three wore a knapsack on his back. The others carried all they thought needed in pockets and on their belts, a flashlight and a knife. Originally there was to be a fourth, but he had taken ill. They laughed. Yeah, Bob had taken ill. He caught a touch of “yellow fever”. They laughed again remembering how he fled the deserted farmhouse they explored last month. They had spooked him so much on that trip he had wet his pants.

Their parents would be angry if they knew the boys had come to the cave. It was the great forbidden place. The township had placed heavy boards across the small hole that was the only known accessible entrance, and put up a large sign, now faded by time and weather: “No Trespassing Under Penalty of Law”.

The boys ignored the sign and easily shifted the boards enough to make an opening. They tied a rope around one of the boards and one by one slid down into the dark and algid hole. They didn’t fear discovery. Very few people came out this way and the only person who knew their plans was Bob, and although he had refused to come, they had confidence he would tell no one of this.

Bill was the leader. It was his idea to break the ban and explore Skull Cave. Besides adventure was the possibility the treasure rumor might be true. Ironically, it was Bob who inspired the idea. He had been talking about Edgar Allan Poe’s The Gold Bug, a school assignment, exciting the others with talk of treasure hunting. Bob had murmured he wished they could hunt treasure, and then Bill had suggested the cave trip.

Every boy in town knew the tale, how once the hills were the camping grounds of bandit-raider Skull O’Brien. This man, an agent for the South during the Civil War, raided nearby Pennsylvania towns and hid his plunder deep in an underground cavern, which acquired his name. O’Brien got his nickname because he had a shallow sunken face and no hair whatsoever. No one found O’Brien’s cache, whisperers said, because the only safe opening to the cave was the small hole atop Pigeonwing Hill. There was one other egress, high on a deserted quarry wall, and thus unassailable. Besides county engineers suspected the sturdiness of the Pigeonwing Hill entrance, boarded it up and condemned the entire unexplored cave.

The boys left the dangling rope and moved away with flashlights in hand. They followed a narrow passage, made difficult to negotiate by jagged stalagmites. Several paces in their light beams disappeared into the vastness of a dark void. A gentle sloping surface led down into a great bowl of rock. Elk was the first to scramble down into the giant room.

“This has to be it,” Elk yelled, his voice echoing over and over. “O’Brien’s hideout.”

Bill came behind him. “It do look promising.”

“I really think we found it,” said Mark.

Bill urged them forward. “Find the treasure, if there is any.”

They walked across the large basin and found the opposite side dotted with several tunnels leading in different directions. They selected one and followed single file into it.

At length they came to another fork, one tunnel with a wide mouth, the other smaller.

“I have a suggestion,” said Elk.

“What?”

“Before we go any further, let’s eat.”

The others needed no persuading. They had brought a good lunch and the hike out and climb into the cave had increased their appetites. They sat at the fork, all three flashlights lined up to shed light on their meal. They ate most of what they had brought and what they didn’t finish they left lying on the path.

“Well, shall we get on with our search?” asked Bill.

“Yeah, but look, I got an idea.” Mark swung his light into the smaller tunnel. “I’ll go down here and you and Elk take that cavern. We can meet back here and this way we up the odds of finding any treasure.”

The others agreed anything speeding such discovery was all right with them. They split off into different tunnels, but the paths twisted, broke off into other tunnels, wound about beneath the ground.

Elk grabbed a hold of Bill’s arm. “Hey, man, I just though of something.”

“What?’

“How are we going to find our way back?”

Bill turned toward his friend. Elk was right. Absolutely. They had not marked the way and had twisted and turned too often to ever remember the same route back.

“I got an idea,” said Bill. “We can track sound.”

Bill cupped a hand beside his mouth and shouted for Mark. Elk got the point and did likewise. Both screamed Mark’s name several times and then stood silent, but heard no answer. Time passed and there was no response.

“Louder,” said Bill.

Together they shouted as loud as they could. They paused to listen. Still no call in return, but they heard a creaking and shifting around them.

“Hey, our noise is bringing down the wall. Get out, Elk, run.”

They darted into the dark as dust and rock swept into the vacated space. In his haste, Elk dropped his flashlight. They ran a good way; fearing more ceiling would drop and in running turned down more passageways.

“Oh God,” wailed Bill, “look.”

 Elk didn’t see anything except the stony shale of the wall.

“Look, Elk, we gotta get outta here fast.”

“More cave-ins?’

“I wouldn’t know about that, but look at my light. It’s dimming, burning out. We lose our light we’ll be in real trouble.”

Both boys ran down the narrow tunnels, always taking the left trail. At some spots the cavern narrowed to such a degree they had to crawl, inching on their stomachs, and at such times Bill feared the cave would dead-end and they would not be able to wiggle backward.

His light grew dimmer, until at length it barely shed any light at all.

“It’s going out,” he called back.

The light died and they scrambled forward into pitch darkness until Bill tumbled headlong down a decline in the ground. Elk followed and landed atop him. Both boys cried out, but were all right and able to stand. When they were on their feet, they cried out again but this time from happiness. Ahead was a round hole and through it they could see sunlight.

“An exit,” Elk yelled and pushed past Bill.

They ran toward the air. Elk was faster so was first to reach the opening. He ran into the sky and disappeared. A scream followed. Bill slowed and crept to the opening.

Bill peeked out and then shrank back. The opening was in the steep wall of the quarry. Over the edge he peered down at a distant lake of green water. There was no sign of Elk on the surface, only the ripples created when he hit.

Bill looked up and saw little chance of scaling the wall. His one hope was somebody coming along the far lip of the quarry and spotting him. He had to hope for that to happen.

Night came cold and dark. Bill wished they hadn’t been so anxious to eat their food or left the scraps to any vermin that might scurry about here. He tried putting that thought out of his head and eventually fell asleep.

He awoke damp with morning frost. Outside it was light and warm. He was hungry, but a quick search of his pockets yielded nothing. Elk had carried the knapsack. He waited.

The lip of the quarry was in shadow, making it hard to see him from across the lake. He could yell if anyone came, but not many ever came to the old quarry, and he faced the possibility if one did his voice might be too weak to carry.

Then he saw a person across the way. He squinted and was surprised to see Bob. Bill shouted. He watched as Bob heard and looked around. Bob saw him. He waved and Bill waved back.

“Help me, Bob. I’m trapped.”

“You putting me on?”

“No, honest. Elk fell into the quarry. I think he drowned. You gotta help me.”

“You sure you can’t get out?”

“Yes. The cave is a labyrinth inside. Nobody could find the way through, especially without a light. Mine burned out. Besides part of the way fell-in. I’m really trapped, Bob. Help me.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No. You got what you deserved. Look what you did to me, big-shot Bill Liance. Has to be the big man all the time. See where it got you.”

Bob left and Bill stared after him. He had known him all his life and although Bob was easy to tease, he had liked him and though he was liked in return. No, Bob wouldn’t walk off and let him perish.

Bob reappeared on the far ledge. He had something draped over his one shoulder. “Bill,” he called.

Bill waved.

“Look.” Bob said, and he pulled a looped length of rope off his shoulder and held it out in the air. “See this?”

“Yeah?”

“Catch.” Bob threw the coil out into the space between them. It curved downward and fell to the water.

“Bye-bye, Billy,” Bob said and he left.

He was sure Bob would soon return with help, but when night came and then another sun came up, he knew Bob had not lied. He wasn’t going to help.

Bill lay in the mouth of the cave, his stomach rumbling and his tongue and lips dry. He watched the sun rise over the empty lip of the quarry. He thought of the treasure in the cavern, an urban legend he knew, but it had led to adventure. It was funny how in adventure books the hero always got himself out of situations, where as he was depended on someone, anyone, seeing and saving him.

His best hope was Mark leading people in search of him after Mark got out of the cave; if Mrk got out of the cave. But as the daylight brightened he considered the rope Bob had tossed into space. No, there was no other exit from Skull Cave. None but one and he wasn’t going to think about it. There were still some things he could do for himself. Not acknowledging his own death was one of them.

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I was 15 when I wrote this. It as kind of a follow up to "Rescue", but written for no one except myself.  There was near Downingtown, where I had lived a few months before penning this, a large quarry. It was no longer being mined for gravel and the pit had filled with green water of several years. It was a forbidden site east of town a couple miles. That and my fear of heights were most likely my inspiration.