H-bomb.
Once past the stone he stood up and stepped out into an underground cavern, bigger by far than the previous one. The first thing to hit him in the cavern was the smell, it was still the same old musty smell that he had smelt since entering the cave but now it had become overpowering and he wrinkled his nose in disgust, coughing occasionally as he fought back nausea.
Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he placed it over his mouth to make his breathing more comfortable, then looking about he saw that the new cavern was far different from the first. Below his feet was a wet slimy mud that clung to the soles of his hiking boots. Clusters of stalactites hung from the twenty foot high ceiling and there equally evil looking cousins, the stalagmites, poked their wicked sharp heads from out of the muck covered floor.
Shining his torch around some more, his eyes lit up with joy as he saw the many footprints dotted around in the mud. The footprints had been made by boots such as the ones he wore and he knew they belonged to his lost friends. "Ted, Adam, Phil", he quickly cried, then replaced the handkerchief back over his mouth before the smell had time to bite. Once again, all around remained quiet, so he continued on into the cave, wading through the thick claggy mud.
At his feet he watched for further prints from his comrades, there seemed to be a good few and he guessed that the three must have explored the cavern thoroughly. Near the middle of the cavern the mud seemed more disturbed than normal, as though a scuffle or a fight had taken place. The other odd thing at this point was that it seemed that in the scuffle, at least one of the men must have taken off his socks and shoes as the thick black mud exposed freshly made tracks from a naked pair of feet.
Bringing his torch up he revealed the end of the cavern with yet another tunnel leading away into darkness. It was something else near this new tunnel that caught his eye. The light of his torch exposed a small square hole around three foot in diameter, cut into the natural wall of the cavern. It was obvious that this hole was man made, with perfect sides cut clean and straight into the rock wall. Inside the hole a small golden glow emitted out. Curious as to what might cast such a light he wandered over only to find his head spinning as the smell increased enormously. He believed the smell was so bad that it was beginning to monkey around with his senses as little golden dots of light began to appear in front of his eyes. At this he became more cautious and took his next few steps carefully as he closed upon the hole.
As he got within five feet of the hole his head began spinning and he felt as though he had been knocked for six as a tiredness took hold of him. He surmised that the powerful stench was sending him giddy and found that even pressing the handkerchief tighter around his mouth could not block out the horridness of the disgusting smell.
Instead of giving in to a little voice in the back of his head that told him to get well away, he forced himself to stay and fighting the unconsciousness that threatened to take him, looked into the square hole.
Large golden mushrooms with saucer sized heads grew out from a rancid grey matter that had been spread across all four walls of the perfectly shaped hole. Around one of the mushrooms bases a thick lair of golden dust lay, glittering and shimmering in his torch light. Closer inspection of the slimy grey substance revealed something in it that Greg thought he recognized, a sliced human finger in a bad state of decay, with the flesh all grey and rotten.
The smell and what he thought he had just seen proved too much for him and he reeled backwards in a state of panic. He ran from the cavern, down through the tunnel next to him, fighting his blurred vision and the sudden need for sleep. Even though he carried his torch, he did not see the pit in front of him as the hard ground left his feet and open black emptiness sucked him downwards.
He landed in a heap, crashing down into soft mud that knocked the air from his lungs. His surroundings where dark as his torch had slipped from his grasp and now lay several feet to his right, casting its light away from the place he lay. It did not matter for he gasped and sucked in air, fighting for what seemed many long minutes to get his breadth back. Once his breathing was back to normal he slowly sat up and reached over for his torch, ready now to take a look at his new surroundings.
Getting to his feet he found that he was not too injured, though his left side stung and groaned with pain. Still it was only a bash and he thanked his lucky stars that there had been thick wet mud in the bottom of the hole, and not large ball crushing stones.
He brushed some of the mud that had stuck to him off, then shone the torch upwards to see how far he'd fallen. The top of the pit loomed fifteen feet above him with its long smooth unscalable sides reaching down to his feet. Fortunately an old iron ladder ran upwards near where he stood, its rungs covered in the slimy wet mud. He suddenly realized how lucky he in fact was. If there had been no ladder, he would be stuck down here in the cold wet pit. He also noted that the walls of the pit had been smoothed by unnatural means, proving that men at some point had once spent much time here. Though why someone would want to spend so much time within a cold damp pit was a mystery in itself.
At the bottom of the pit, the thick black muck filled three quarters of the floor. The other quarter being taken up by water with the same murkiness and smell that the lake surrounding the hill had had. He guessed that this water was actually from the same lake he had waded through, and if he was to go into it, he would enter a tunnel that would lead him out of the cave, emerging somewhere in the lake outside. Of course, he did not know how long this underwater tunnel might be and knew that it would be too chancy a thing to risk going down into its depths. If he was going to get out he would have to go back the way he came. "No argument there", he said to himself while looking deep into the cold muddy water.
There seemed to be nothing else of interest and he decided to get out of the hole thinking that his friends may have gone deeper into the cave or found an exit he had missed that led them out onto the other side of the hill. Then he spotted the diary.
It was only one corner that stuck slimily out of the mud, the only thing making it distinguishable was a small blue patch on the cover that the mud had not consumed, unlike the rest of it. Greg reached down and gently pulled the book from the mud. Brushing off most of the dirt he opened it up and discovered the diary was the one that Adam had been carrying with him.
He flicked through some of the pages and read short snippets from the last few days. It appeared from the writing that Adam had greatly looked forward to meeting up once more with his old friends and how he longed to return again to the site that promised so much discovery. Then Greg flicked to the last couple of days where Adam talked about becoming lost and the strange trek to the cave through swamp water and one of his mates vanishing beneath.
Greg smiled at this last part. Adam's writing showed he had been very concerned at the time and had crapped himself as he had searched for him beneath the water. He then flicked over a few pages and was pleased to see that Adam had wrote about the part where the group had left him and headed off into the cave. He now had the chance to discover what might have happened to the three men, and a possible opportunity that the writing would make it possible for him to find them. Plus, seeing as his side still ached from the fall and the thought of climbing the slippery ladder with a numb arm might well result in a painful case of dejavoo, he decided to make himself as comfortable as possible and read Adam's last entry.
Sitting down in the cold wet mud he shone his torch onto the unread pages. This is what he read:
..................................................................
"My sanity is slipping from the horror I have just witnessed, the horror that has affected me and made me commit an act that no sane man would ever dream of doing, unless forced upon him under the most extreme circumstances.
To stop myself going completely crazy as I sit alone with the sight and smell of death all around, I write. I write in hope that my sanity wil
l stay solid and Greg will return to help me from this evil pit. He is my only chance and though I have never been a spiritual man, I pray for his arrival.
Who'd have thought that the legends where true. I mean they where nothing, nothing but stories that mothers would tell there children to keep them away from these moors. Before I'd seen it I wouldn't have even classed it as a myth, just a simple faerie tale at most, a bogeyman who'd been invented for the young, made up poppycock I keep telling myself, and yet here I am.
Yes…Here I am, stuck in a hole after my encounter with that thing. He who calls himself Mervin...Mervin Badman".
The three of us went up to the cave..."
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Greg then went on to read how the three men had more or less entered the cave in the same manner as himself, hearing more strange sounds like the ones they had heard earlier when Ted had first shone his torch at the entrance of the cave. These sounds so spooked the three that at that point they nearly turned back to rejoin him on the hillside and like him spend the night there.
He then read how they'd looked into the cave and found the clay statue which they examined thoroughly, this apparently removed all the past fears that the three had felt and once the fears where gone, all decided on venturing in further in the hope of finding signs of a past culture many centuries old. It was at the point where the three had entered the large cavern that there story took its dramatic twist!
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"After fumbling my way past the large mushroom shaped stone the torrid smell of decay and rot increased. In fact it increased to such a proportion that I had to cover my mouth and nose with the sleeve of my coat to venture further into the cavern. Ted did likewise, while Phil, who was wearing his thick duffel-coat, pulled the front up so it covered his face, making him resemble a badly dressed highwayman I had once seen on a visit to Madam Tussord’s.
Phil led the way into the cavern, while Ted followed a close second and I took up the rear. I remember Phil’s muffled voice shouting back that there was a strange golden glow in the wall. Ted then went to his side and the two told me that the glow seemed to be emitting from some strange looking mushrooms. I still haven't a clue what they meant but I remember looking over to where the two headed and there was indeed a gold glow that burnt all around them, making there silhouettes look dark and foreboding.
As I made my way forward, I saw Ted reach out with an outstretched arm and touch something where the gold light seemed to emit from. Suddenly a cloud of golden dust shot fourth from the place my two comrades stood, filling my vision with a million pin pricks of bright golden light.
I'm not sure exactly about what happened next. I think I remember Ted and Phill falling to the ground and I guess I joined them as everything went black. I must have passed out cold as I remember nothing, until I woke up that is, in this pit.
Wait a sec, this writing is beginning to jog my memory. Yes I remember something, and I have an idea what. I remember I was dreaming and enjoying my dream though I do not recall what the dream was about. Then the dream was interrupted as I felt cold hands with a horrible slimy texture grab me and start dragging me to some unknown destination. I remember flailing out with my own hands blindly, as my eyelids refused to open and caught with a backwards sweeping fist something that felt like mud...yes…MUD. Yes of course, it all makes sense now.
As the hands let go of me I