Vengeance Child

The eight-year-old lay at the bottom of the shaft, on his back, staring up at the metal grille. Each inhalation made him whimper. Squares of light formed by the grille changed as a figure leaned over it. He knew that Mayor Wilkes looked down at him.

‘Bigger drop than you thought, eh?’ the man grunted. ‘You might have just saved me a job.’ The silhouette vanished. Archer gazed at clouds through the criss-cross pattern formed by the bars. A shaft of light shone down from the sky to fill the well. Sheer walls rose up all around him, lined with smooth stone. Then the sunlight vanished. It seemed even darker than before. When Archer drew breath his chest ached so much.

Then came loud grating sounds. Is he opening the grate so he can get at me? Only when blocks of darkness appeared to blot out part of the criss-cross pattern did he realize what Wilkes was doing. Slowly but surely the man was sliding heavy pieces of masonry over the grille. Especially over the gap that Archer had slid through. These, the hunks of stone stored in the yard for the restoration work, were being used to entomb the boy.

‘This will keep you in your place,’ Wilkes barked. ‘You won’t be able to shift these in a hurry. What do you say to that?’

Breathing hurt so much Archer couldn’t reply even if he had wanted to. Meanwhile, Wilkes brusquely tossed sentences at the boy. They weren’t meant as consolation. Anything but. ‘The island’s under quarantine. Let me explain. That means nobody can leave the island, nobody can come on to the island. We’re cut off from the mainland. Therefore, the castle will be closed to the public for the foreseeable future. I have the spare set of keys. Besides that, my word is law. No one will come here for at least a week.’ His eyes burned down through the grille. ‘Do you understand what that means for you? You will wallow in that stinking pit of yours, by yourself, for seven days, and seven very long nights. Without food or drink. No doubt you will do a lot of yelling. Go ahead, be my guest. But seeing as we’re at the tip of the island no one will hear.’ He laughed. ‘It looks like rain, too. Did I mention that when it rains the well fills with water again? It’s customary to wish a chap in peril good luck, but it isn’t good luck I’ll be wishing you. Goodbye, Archer.’ Footsteps receded across stone cobbles, then the door in the wall slammed shut.

It took a long time. Eventually, however, the pain eased in Archer’s chest. He realized he’d been badly winded, that was all. What was more, when he moved his limbs he knew he hadn’t broken any bones. From what he could tell, the surface he’d fallen on consisted of old dry leaves. This soft mulch had broken his fall, not his legs.

‘Gotta get out, Archer,’ he murmured. ‘Show Victor the bracelet. He’ll know what to do.’ Get out, Archer? Easier said than done. The walls were smooth. Most of the time he couldn’t see because the cloud made it so dark. Occasionally, though, a beam of light would break through. The intense sunshine would reveal the yellow stonework. It also revealed something else that made his heart leap.

He should have been pleased. He should have yelled, ‘Yes!’ then punched the air. However, dread gripped him in its implacable fist. You’ve done this, Jay. You’ve brought me back here to frighten me. For there, just at arm’s length, half-hidden by shadow, was a chilling sight. A stone archway. One just high enough and wide enough to wriggle through. Not for a second did he believe it led to safety. But he couldn’t sit for ever at the bottom of the well. Mayor Wilkes said it would flood when it rained. Archer couldn’t swim. Anyway, after seven days, what then? If he was alive the mayor would return to ensure that Archer never told anyone what had happened.

With a deep sense of foreboding Archer crawled through the opening. Ahead it was completely dark. Worse, it didn’t open out into a room; instead it narrowed down into a tight little tunnel. In olden times it might have been a kind of water pipe that carried water from the well to stop it overflowing into the yard if it rained heavily. Archer couldn’t even crawl. He had to worm his way forward on his belly with his arms out in front, and sort of push along with his feet. He heard them scraping behind him. His back hurt where he’d gouged it on the rough stone when he’d slithered through the grille to escape Mayor Wilkes. Now this. Being here terrified him. His heart pounded. Blood roared through his head. The sides of the tunnel squashed his chest. The pressure made his ribs hurt again. It was hard to breathe. A heavy fungus smell filled his nostrils. The further he wriggled the colder it became. The boy feared the tunnel would narrow to the point he became stuck. Nobody will ever find me. I’ll be trapped for ever . . . Grimly, he pushed forward. Ahead, it was completely dark. What if he encountered an obstruction? Or rats? They could bite him to death. Trembling, he imagined furry snouts, with bristly whiskers, then teeth munching into his face. He shouted when something feathery stroked his face. Shaking his head to free himself from its clutch, he raked at it with his fingers.

Light soft stuff on his skin? A cobweb, that’s all. He struggled to prevent panic engulfing him. At that moment he realized if he started screaming he’d never stop. Onward, onward, onward . . . that’s the only direction. Now it would be impossible to squirm backwards to the well. He’d have to carry on. Archer believed in all kinds of monsters. What if a hand grabbed his face? It could sink its fingers into his eyes. Archer nearly choked with fear. Even to breathe was difficult. All his body hurt from head to toe. Normally, he’d go into emotional shutdown at times of stress. Only this time even that escape wasn’t open to him. He remained clear-headed. He knew the danger he was in. People die in situations like this. I’ve got to save myself. No one will come. Not Lou. Not Laura. I’m all on my own. Taking a deep breath, he squirmed forward. In that darkness it seemed as if he pushed himself down a tube that shrank ever smaller around him. That smell: rich, heavy, a raw mushroom odour. For a long time he struggled forward, his skin chafed from being scraped by stone walls. He moved a hand from side to side as a kind of antenna to get some sense of where the sides of the tunnel were – and what might be lying in wait to bite his face. He knew he’d become weaker. The walls pressing against his body leached their cold through his clothes into his skin. More cobwebs ahead. He didn’t see them but he certainly felt them. Probably spiders in there. With big black, bristly legs. He slashed at invisible cobwebs with his hand. When he’d done this before his knuckles had struck the tunnel wall with a painful knock. This time his hand swung outward into nothingness.

Heart beating faster, he pushed forward, feet scraping frantically at the floor. Then the stones under him vanished. He knew he was hanging out into a void. But what lay outside the tunnel? Another shaft? This might plunge down hundreds of feet. He might tumble into it to break every bone in his body. The light that suddenly appeared brought short-lived relief. He groaned. The witch, Jay! This was his doing. For through a ventilation block in the wall thirty feet to his right shone a dozen narrow rods of light as the sun dropped to the horizon. The light shining through the block didn’t reveal a lot. But it revealed he’d been here before.

Archer saw that the break in the tunnel opened into a cellar. Tree roots hung from the ceiling. The stink of decay filled the air. In the centre of this vaulted chamber sat a car. Filth covered it. Mushrooms had forced their bulbous growths through the side of the headlight. As he swung himself down on to the floor of the cellar he tried to see through the back window of the car. He knew that was where the vehicle’s occupant resided. Only before he had chance to get a proper look the cloud obscured the sun again. Darkness replaced the reddish light.

Standing there, heart pounding, Archer trembled. A cold, cold fear flooded him as he imagined something stirring in the back of the entombed car.

In a shaky voice he cried out, ‘I kept it safe. The bracelet’s in my pocket . . . you wanted me to give it to someone . . . I didn’t know who . . . don’t hurt me . . . I did my best . . . please don’t hurt me.’

Archer’s voice echoed back. This makeshift tomb beneath the castle had just increased its population by one.