Chapter 12 ‘Deeper’
The
Rocky Mountains, 23:20 local time:
The
Mexican was swaying gently; Johnson watched his slight movements; every now and
again his body would spasm, he would stiffen up; his scar which ran down his
face glowed a raw red colour! Johnson
was now staring at the scar which he knew the Mexican had got from the time he
had killed his own family; first his mother had tried to slit his throat and
then she had slashed at his face; slicing him down the cheek with a knife! Remnants from a history that only the Mexican
could tell about; Johnson swallowed “you
deal with the Devil; you ride with the Devil” they were words that The
Mexican had once said to him before he had joined him in his first killing
spree. Well I’m definitely riding with the devil now!
His
mind went back to 1998; it was a routine drug exchange they were meant to give
some Columbian drug dealers $2 million in exchange for enough of the powder
addiction to supply the whole West Coast.
They had gone to the docks at the port of Long Beach, San Diego, the
Columbians turned up with more gun power than which was agreed; the agreement
was three from each party. The Mexican turned up with two, Johnson made up the
two, and the Columbians turned up with eight men four around the cars and four
snipers on the ships moored close by.
When the exchange happened it all went one way; the Columbians took the
money and the drugs, The Mexican was pissed.
Before they left in their cars he told them to watch every night because
he would come looking for each and every one of them!
The
man was true to his word and it was then that Johnson made his pact with the devil
for that was what he had come to know the Mexican as; they called him the “Devils
Advocate” but Johnson thought he knew better than the rest. Johnson had always had his reservations about
the Mexican but from that night his reservations became seriously true you play the hand you’ve been dealt and
Johnson played that hand; boy he played it.
He could not deny he had enjoyed it especially the women and there had
been lots along the way; some had enjoyed it at first until it got serious;
then they would change, the pain becoming too much ohhhhh boy he could feel the beginning of an erection at the
thought of his sexual conquests; their sexual conquests.
That
night at the harbour it had all changed it was not just a job anymore it became
a hobby; an addiction, one which he would never be able to get over or get away
from; the addiction had to be fed. Oh he
had signed with the devil; signed right bang on the dotted line and ever since
he had enjoyed the rewards and if he was truthfully honest the rewards had been
exactly what he craved. But when things
did not go according to plan things could sometimes become quite painful;
especially when the Mexican was pissed about something; when that happened
everyone paid their dues hell I’ve got
plenty of scars to prove that!
Back
to the story of the Columbians; they hunted down each of the Columbians;
attacked each of their family homes tying up the men while they were forced to
watch as they abused their women right in front of their very eyes. It had been a real blast; Johnson had enjoyed
every second; every orgasm had been like firing a shotgun and then there was
the look on the men’s faces as he fucked their women woooow boy! The look they
gave as he made them moan; oh he was a big man and he made them know it! The Mexican only really got his kick from the
killing, he had a real gift for that; it was almost like an art-form for him;
always wanted to paint the masterpiece.
As the years went on the masterpiece would become more and more intense;
there had been a lot more meaning to the Mexican’s work than just the killing! The prayers and the drawings had really
started to become a necessity; it always played a part in what the Mexican
enjoyed and Johnson had noticed that over the years his boss had become more
and more powerful! But for Johnson it
had all started with the Columbian drug dealers; one by one they were hunted
and tortured; the boss got his revenge; just like the other stories he had
heard about the ‘Devils Advocate’ yep he
got his revenge alright and he also got me along the way!
Before
Johnson teamed up with the Mexican he had been in The National Guard; pussy
footing around with the tin-pot soldiers; as he had come to see them. When he left the National Guard he met Ricardo
Powell aka Cowboy; he was an ex Marine from the UK. He had gone AWOL on his regiment for raping a
local girl when they were on manoeuvres in the Tennessee swamplands; he would
have been in serious trouble if it had not been for Johnson. Johnson had given him a room to hide out in;
had also introduced him to the Mexican who had given them both plenty of work it was like it was meant to be! What he did not know at the time was that
once you signed on with the devil you never got to sign off, he was in and
would be until the day he died although he had only ever considered leaving the
services once. ‘Never again’ he whispered;
it had really pissed the Mexican off; Johnson had never had a beating like it,
more like tortured anyway that’s history he
never ever wanted to leave again, after that night he knew he would forever be
in the service of “The Devil’s Advocate” till
the day I die!
Although
Johnson and Cowboy had become friends it was cowboy who tipped the Mexican off
on Johnson wanting out, then Cowboy for all his loyalty was forced to watch as
Johnson paid the price for his mistake! Well Cowboy ya dumb fuck…..yo out of it now
brother, leaving me here to handle the boss on my own, thanks for that. Johnson picked up a small whiskey bottle
and unscrewing the top he held the bottle up for an imaginary toast before
raising it to his lips where he downed several gulps.
Johnson
now watched as his boss began to straighten; his chest puffed out as his
shoulder blades slouched backwards; he suddenly began to flop from side to
side. His eyes were fluttering
underneath his closed eye-lids; spittle began to drip from his partly closed
mouth; it ran down his chin. Suddenly
the Mexican was flung backwards letting out a deathly groan as his eyes shot
open. At first his eyes were white until
they began to turn red; Johnson ran over to his boss ‘you ok boss?’ he asked
warily.
The
Mexican’s head snapped toward Johnson; then unseen hands grabbed at Johnson and
pulled him over to the far wall pulled his arms out into a cross shape as they
pinned him to the wall his body stretched apart. Unseen hands ripped his top from off his
back; Johnson’s demon face had now taken over his features as he too snarled,
he tried to release from the invisible grip that held him tightly. The Mexican’s eyes had now turned back to
their normal jet black colour as he began to regain his composure; the unseen
force released the grip on Johnson’s arms.
Johnson shook his head as his features turned back to normal ‘hell Boss
what happened to you back there?’
‘Nothing
to worry about; I got a look at the boy and who was helping him that’s all’ his
toneless voice informed.
‘So
who’s helping the fucking kid?’
The
Mexican looked away into the dark forest; something did not feel right to him;
he had not been able to see inside the Indian Chiefs mind and that worried him
a little. What power was he up against? ‘Just an old man; we’ll deal with him later;
it’s time to sort out the boy!’
* * * * *
Samson
had tried to listen to what was happening up on the surface; but he had only
managed the odd word or two; one string of words he made out was “an old man” he thought about the old man
he had seen in his dreams and wondered if they had come across the same
person. Maybe he had visited them in
their dreams just like he had visited Samson; no he doubted that, there was
something about the old man that Samson trusted. The old Indian man would not want them to see
him; he was a kind man and they were evil the two just did not go. A voice drifted down the tunnel ‘hey boy you
gonna have some visitors later; hope you’ve made it comfortable for
them…………..ho, ho, ho!’ the sound carried on the sides of the walls, lingering
in the closeness that suffocated him!
Samson
swallowed nervously what devilry are they
planning now? He didn’t like it,
they were up to something and warning him like that only played on his mind
even more please don’t let it be snakes
again. He grabbed a couple more logs
and threw them onto his small fire, if they were going to send more snakes he
had to make sure he was ready ‘and ready I will be’ he nodded to himself warily
as his quiet and afraid voice spoke back to him from the walls of the cavern.
Samson
had spent the next ten minutes sharpening his spear with his penknife; it was
starting to get muggy inside the cavern again, his nerves began to take hold;
something was going on, he could feel it, his nerve ends tingling with
anticipation? Every time they had played
with his mind he had noticed the same kind of mugginess; he was sweating
heavily again; he prayed he wasn’t going to be visited by more snakes, last
night he had nearly died. But last night you weren’t ready; tonight
you are, even so thinking that way did not stop the fear rising up inside
him again. What evil were they planning
now, his mind replaying all the evil events that he had seen over the last few
days and nights? He folded the penknife
and put it inside his trouser pocket; the heat rose higher and higher, Samson
glanced at the fire and considered dousing it a little, then realised that was
not an option he needed the light that’s
why you threw the extra logs on….protection Samson protection!
His
whole body was now drenched in sweat; the t-shirt and his combat trousers stuck
to his skin as though his body was wrapped in clingfilm; what he would not give
for a breeze; any breeze just something to cool him. Samson’s attention was drawn to the pool of
water; he walked over to the pool and crouching down onto all fours he splashed
water all over his face and neck. The
feeling instantly cooled him as the water ran down his sweaty neck coursing its
own cool path down his spine to his trouser line where it soaked into his already
wet pants. A thought occurred to him
that maybe he could lie down in the cool pool of water; there was a sound;
Samson listened intently, he tried and tried to make out what the noise
was. Whatever it was it was coming from
the top cave and it was getting closer as he listened and waited; waited for
the next surprise to unveil itself. His
throat was dry again; the lump in it was getting tighter and tighter as he
struggled to swallow; he made up his mind to drink from the pool again before
he confronted this next enemy. Within
seconds he was back on all fours cupping the cold water as he drunk thirstily
from his hands, the spear rested on the floor next to his knee as the sound
came ever closer!
Samson
was now standing at the edge of the pool as the scurrying, scuffling sound
entered the tunnel; whatever it was it would be seconds before it was joining
him in the cavern; the hot, muggy, sticky cavern that would eventually be his
tomb. Samson swallowed nervously as he
shuffled toward the fire; he reached out and threw on even more logs never
taking his eyes from the cave entrance and the new fear which was coming for
him. With his grip on the spear getting
tighter and tighter; the whites of his knuckles showing through his dirty skin,
the grip was now so tight he thought he would probably never again be able to
straighten his hands; they were stuck in the clenched position, as though they
were stuck with rigor mortise. The sound
was nearly upon him; it was now at the entrance to his safe haven, and still
Samson could not make out what this sound was bringing; all he could see was
the blackness of the tunnel beyond. But the
sound was virtually upon him….it was here!
What the hell is it? Still he stared at the entrance unable to see
the source of the sound and what was causing it; until it began to enter the
cavern!
Samson
stared at the small entrance watching helplessly as they entered the enclosed
space; the army was endless and it could not have been anything worse! ‘Why can’t this nightmare just end’ he whispered
desperately as he watched petrified and helpless, he watched the army as it
entered en-masse ‘please God no’ his voice so quiet it could not be heard under
the sound that thousands of insects make as they crawl like an un-dead
army. The blanket of insects flowed into
the cavern and began moving across the floor toward him; his throat was now so
dry he could not even speak anymore, his whole body was in lockdown as he now
held his breath, unable to even force the simplest of commands. His brain commanding him to breathe; he
realised that he had not breathed; his whole body had gone into shock; he could
not think; he had to act; had to get his brain back into gear you have to do something Samson, you have to
act!
Samson
now clutched the spear even tighter than before, his knuckles almost exploding
out through his skin. Although the more
he thought about it he realised that was helpless, the spear could not defend
him from this new evil as he watched the black mass creep along the cavern floor
toward him. Samson could see them; garden
spiders, black widow spiders, tarantulas, beetles, cockroaches, locusts, ants;
it was lunch time and Samson was the main course; the only course on the menu!
Think; think………………think
‘the fire’ it hurt his throat to talk, turning he jumped over the fire; he felt
the heat up the inside of his legs as he then landed putting the fire between
him and the new foe. Samson looked down
at the small fire then back to the advancing army of insects how can they do this; command the insects
and creatures this way? He had to do
something; without a second thought he kicked at the burning pile of wood and
ash sending the contents flying over the army that marched toward him. That instinct to kick the fire toward the
advancing army of insects brought him around thirty to forty seconds thinking
time as he mentally went through his options what options he looked despairingly around the cave. Samson had three options; one, let the army
of insects just take him; two, try to get to the entrance; but who knew how
many more were coming for him in the tunnel?
His third option made more sense; jump into the shallow pool, most
insects don’t like water, however some do!
With that thought his survival instinct kicked in as he launched himself
over the nearest carpet of insects, landing at the edge of the pool; Samson now
jumped again into the middle of the pool!
What
greeted him as he landed was totally unexpected as his head went below the
water line; it was deeper than he had expected; all the time he had been in the
cave he had thought that the water would only be shallow; up to his
ankles. How wrong he was as he now doggy
paddled for his life; just keeping his head above the water; he watched the
army of insects turn its attention toward the pool. Samson kept himself afloat as he thought
about the pool of water it has to lead
somewhere; it just has too; otherwise the cave would eventually just fill
itself up! He could also feel a
slight current; his legs were being pulled toward the wall slightly; it was
dark now in the cavern as the last of the burning wood went out; it was even
darker in the water. Samson felt around
trying to find the spear which he had let go of once he had started paddling;
he could hear something in the water near the edge and realised that the
insects were now entering the pool!
Samson’s
hand caught the spear and then he was under the water swimming toward the wall;
the spear prodding out in front of him like a blind man feeling his way along a
pavement. He had swum underwater for
several metres, he was sure; that he had to be at the end of the cavern near
the wall; but the spear had touched nothing?
Still he swam in the dark, not knowing which direction he was heading
in; he swam on further until his lungs could not take anymore; he needed air
and they needed air if he didn’t breath in the next two seconds they were going
to explode. Samson let himself shoot up
to the surface, like a torpedo he shot upwards; his head came out of the water
at speed as he caught for breath; his head banged on the ceiling above him,
sending a pain coursing around his whole body; he could see stars in his
vision; in the pitch black vision that enveloped his world. Where
the hell am I? His lungs took in
plenty of air as he paddled in the stillness.
His
feet were still kicking as he breathed in the crisp damp air; he could feel
something trickling down his face, unsure if it was blood or water? Realising that it had to be blood its source
from the point on his head which had hit the roof; the part of his head that
was as sore as hell! Samson stayed where
he was paddling in the darkness; he turned and turned in the dark world unsure
on what to do and where to go, still he clutched the spear as though his life
depended on it. Samson needed light and
he needed to keep moving; they would send something else to kill him of that he
was sure; he could not stop where he was ‘the torch’ his throat throbbed as he
spoke the words; the sound of his voice reverberated around the dark place he now
found himself. Reaching into his pocket
he pulled the torch up to the surface and flicked the switch on; the light
stung his eyes slightly as he tried to re-adjust his sight.
Samson
was now in a short submerged tunnel there was around thirty centimetres between
the surface of the water and the uneven roof above and it was around eight
metres long by two metres wide. He shone
the torch all around the space unsure which way he had entered this place; a
slight drift on his legs made Samson realise that the current was pulling his
legs toward the wall furthest away from him it
has to lead outside; it just has to?
Wherever it led, Samson knew he could not stay where he was; he would
eventually run out of air; he had to keep moving wherever the current led him you’ve got no choice but to follow the
current, you can’t go back and you can’t stay in here you’ll run out of air! Samson thought about whether the insects
would follow him through the tunnel.
‘You can’t wait here to find out’ his voice echoed once more around the
small breathing chamber you’ve got to
move on buddy!
Holding
the torch in one hand and the spear in his other hand he swam gently toward the
far wall; once he reached the wall he prodded around with the spear tip. As far as his arm reached down the tip of the
spear touched rock; but his legs were still being pulled toward this side of
the submerged tunnel? Samson took a deep
breath and dived down to the floor of the tunnel; he shone the torch around and
then he saw a hole around two metres wide and one metre high; he shone the
torch into the pitch black hole. It was
no good although the beam lit up the path in front of him the small waterproof
torch only shone for around a metre; the beam was not powerful enough to show
him how far the tunnel reached. He swam
back to the surface, careful of his quick ascent, careful not to bang his head
again. Once back at the surface he
gasped for air, His lungs taking in plenty as they breathed in and out like
bellows; he had to get all the air he could now, if the tunnel was too long
this may be the last air he would ever breathe?
Butterflies fluttered around his stomach as he gathered the courage for
his descent into the abyss below you can
do it Samson don’t be afraid.
‘Ok
here goes’ the sound of his voice filled the tunnel, it sounded almost surreal
as the sound amplified itself by the quietness of the small breathing chamber
of the tunnel, the tunnel where he now paddled plucking up the courage to make
his move ok Samson time to go. With one massive intake of air Samson dropped
below the surface and swam to the small hole at the base of the wall; Samson
shone the torch into the hole and entered, following the current to wherever it
led him. As he swam he constantly shone
the torch ahead and upwards to the roof that now pressed down on him; each
second that passed he felt that he would die looking up at the tunnel roof, at
the smooth rock ceiling; the last thing he would see in his life would be
rock. The air in his lungs had now gone,
his lungs were completely empty, but still Samson’s eyes gazed on rock; smooth,
weathered rock that had been smoothened from hundreds possibly thousands of
years of flowing water, then the rock was gone! Samson was past the roof of the submerged
tunnel all he needed to do was to make it to the surface without opening his
mouth. If he opened his mouth his
instinct would be to breathe and the moment he did that he would drown; from
deep inside his lungs Samson desperately tried to find enough oxygen to swim
upwards for the few seconds that it would take him! But to his dismay his lungs had failed to
retain enough oxygen, they were well and truly empty and the last half a metre of
his accent had Samson taking in a mouthful of the cold water. Samson felt as though his chest would explode
at any minute; his eyes bulged as he struggled not to swallow more of the
water; he had to make it; his head came out into air; cold black air, the speed
of his ascent sent him two, three maybe four feet into the air! Samson coughed and spluttered as he scrambled
out onto a small ledge; he crouched on all fours oblivious to his surroundings
as he coughed from deep within his chest. Samson coughed up a huge blob of
phlegm into the water. His body was
beaten and exhausted as he rolled onto his back clutching the torch and the
spear to his chest; he breathed and he breathed. His eyes were shut tight as he regained his
composure; regained his breathing; regained his hope! He had no idea how he had managed to get this
far; but something was definitely with him its
either God or lady luck? He lay back with his eyes shut tight as his body
began to stabilise itself; he let go of the spear and the torch; leaving them
on his chest as he moved his arms down to his sides breathing deeply.
After
several minutes rest his hand came back up and pulled the torch from on his
chest and then he shone it around the confined area he was now laid. The torchlight lit up around him revealing
another smaller cavern like the one he was camped in earlier; breathing heavily
he coughed out some more phlegm. There
was a tunnel away to his left; looking around he realised it was the only way
out unless he decided to battle the water again and see how much farther he
could go that way! ‘No thanks; I’ll try
the dry way’ he whispered. Samson
switched off the torch and laying his head back against the cold damp floor he
closed his eyes; where he drifted into an exhausted sleep; his battered wet and
cold body needed to recuperate!
When
Samson awoke he startled himself; unsure how long he had been asleep; even
unsure of where he was, instinctively he turned on the small torch again. His memory came flooding back; the nightmare
came back, he had to get moving again; who knew how long he had been asleep;
they could have followed him through the flooded tunnels; the insects or even
the two men? Wearily he rose to his
feet; using the spear as a walking stick, holding him upright; he leant
unsteadily on the wall; he could feel himself starting to sway; it was a gentle
sway. Without a second thought he slid
down the wall and sat resting his back; his clothes were cool and stuck to him;
he was shivering now; all thoughts of the earlier heat had long disappeared, as
he breathed in and out in a gentle rhythm.
After
several more minutes resting he decided to head into the tunnel and the
unknown; where would it lead him, he had no idea ‘probably hell’ he whispered
as he rose to his feet for a second time; the rest had done him good; Samson
was good to go again, well sort of good to go!
He shone the torch into this new tunnel and stepped gingerly inside;
with weary legs he trudged on into the unknown; into the dark black hole. On and on he walked his body battered from
the beating it had taken in reaching this point; Samson could no longer feel
his muscles they had now gone past aching; his head throbbed from the knock it
had taken in the submerged tunnel earlier.
His brain instructing every part of him to survive to continue on this
useless trek may as well just roll over
here and be done with it but still he continued onwards and forwards; his
body and his mind refusing to give up you
have to keep going.
The
gradient was constantly changing one minute he was walking upwards then another
minute his path was taking him down; down to hell, or so he thought. Then the constraints of the tunnel would
change first he could walk upright then the tunnel would lower considerably at
some points he would be on his hands and knees again. Samson could hear a noise up ahead; he
stopped trying to decipher what the cause of the sound was ‘water’ yes it’s water he quickened his
pace. The tunnel curved off to the left up
ahead as he headed toward the cause of the sound; Samson rounded the curve
where he came to a sort of t-junction left led to the sound; which was the
turning that Samson took, then a few more steps had him stepping into another
larger cavern.
Samson
stared in wander at a large stream that flowed through this large expanse of
cave; he turned around and glanced in the tunnel from the direction he had just
travelled. Shining the torch back into
the tunnel just to be sure; he had been feeling uneasy for a short time now,
and this feeling of uneasiness he had had before only to find he was in danger
on each occasion. ‘Trust your instincts
Samson’ he shone the torch around the large cavern; the large stream come river
flowed through the middle and then on the far side of the large stream was
another tunnel; his inner voice, his second voice, told him this was the way to
go. It
has to lead to safety, it just has too you’ve come too far and gone through too
much for it not to!
Without
any hesitation he jumped the flowing water which was around one and a half
metres wide; he landed easily on the other side and scrambled up the rock face
to the farther tunnel further up the slope.
Once inside the tunnel he stopped and turned his head back into the
cavern he was about to leave; Samson could see the hole he had entered through,
he could also see light; torchlight!
Fear erupted from deep within as he scrambled into this new tunnel as
quickly as possible; further and further inside he moved; he moved quickly but
cautiously. The devil was on his tail
and Samson sure as hell was not going to lie about and wait for him; he had
travelled around twenty metres when his torchlight began to fade. The speed at which the light gave out amazed
him; Samson was in total darkness and the darkness was where this evil thrived;
he swallowed nervously as he scrambled forward with his arms reaching out in
front of him; his spear felt around gently tapping along his route!
On
and on he scrambled his knuckles scraped on cold rock, nearly making him scream
out on several occasions; screaming was not an option he was being followed and
any sound would alert his pursuers of his whereabouts. Although his inner voice kept reminding him
that his pursuers could probably follow his fear, like a smell, the fear
radiated from him? It was so dark Samson
felt like he was in space and had entered a black hole; if this was what one
was like, he suspected it was; his throat was dry again and the heat was
rising; that was not a good sign!
Realising he had matches he reached inside his trouser pocket and
withdrew the packet of waterproof matches which were also secured in a plastic
re-sealable bag. He opened the bag and
pulled the box loose, putting the bag back into his pocket Samson now slid open
the box and pulled out one of the dry matches; he needed to see where he was
going.
Just
as Samson was about to strike the match a voice inside his head stopped him in
his tracks the light will alert them; do
not strike the match; keep moving as you are! Samson listened to his inner voice; he had no
reason to doubt its advice, after all how many times had it saved his life so
far too many, maybe not enough! The heat was rising as he crawled further
forward; he heard a noise further back down the tunnel from where he had come
from; from behind him! Samson stopped on his belly still holding the match and
box in one hand and the spear in the other.
He lay waiting; waiting and listening as he stared behind him staring
hard into the pitch black; from some distance he now saw something? Samson stared harder and harder trying to
focus his gaze it was two red dots and they were moving; moving very quickly; a
lot quicker than he was. Samson turned
his attention forward and began crawling faster and faster into the darkness;
scurrying followed him from further down the tunnel and it was gaining; the
sound was gaining on him with rapid speed!
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