Through the Gates of Hell

Chapter Nine

Walt’s blood felt like it was on fire. He was literally dripping sweat from every pore, and his clothes were soaked with it. Sweat from his hands dripped down the handle of his pick, making it slippery to hold. It dripped from his hair and got into his eyes, stinging like acid. He felt like he was being boiled alive.

Against his hip, the bag of dark stone was so hot it felt like an iron pressing on his clothes. But he didn’t dare pull it away or discard it. The dark stone was poison, fueling the sickness that consumed him, but in Walt’s case, the sickness was preferable to the cure.

Just a little farther, now. It had take him a long time, but Walt was finally coming home. How long had it been? He wasn’t even sure. The days back in town had passed in a hazy blur of guilt, misery, and whiskey. It had probably only been about five days, but time no longer felt consistent in Walt’s troubled mind. It felt like he’d been away from the mine for weeks, but at the same time it felt like only hours has passed since he had run from the mine, screaming like an insane person. And now he was back, returning to the source of his shame and guilt.

The group crept down a narrow section of tunnel and Robert stopped suddenly. He lifted his head and breathed in through his nose. Walt couldn’t smell anything, but he knew what Robert must have noticed lingering in the air.

The others looked at Robert expectantly. He narrowed his eyes and stared down the tunnel, and then glanced back at them. “Walt, how much farther is the next chamber?”

“It’s just ahead,” Walt muttered.

Maggie asked, “What is it? It smells like …”

“I don’t know what we’re going to find,” Robert said, returning his gaze back down the tunnel, “but I think that smell is a dead body.”

“Oh, my,” Eleanor said softly.

“It can’t be the people from last night,” Maggie said. “I mean, they wouldn’t …”

“I’m just letting you all know,” Robert said. “It might not be a person at all. It might be an animal or some other creature, but something’s dead in that chamber up ahead.”

Walt wiped his forehead with his sleeve, but the sleeve was already soaked with sweat so it didn’t have much effect. “Let’s just get on with it,” he grumbled.

“Right,” Robert agreed.

They made their way down the rest of the tunnel, the smell getting stronger every step of the way, until it was nearly unbearable. It was the stench of rot and decay, the smell of death. The air was thick with it, until all four of them were struggling to breath. Maggie pulled her sleeve up over her hand and covered her nose with it. Eleanor coughed and lifted the collar of her robe up over her nose, her face twisted in a look of disgust. Robert needed both hands to hold his gun, so he just tried to breath through his mouth, although the smell was so bad it made his eyes water. Walt just suffered through it as he suffered through everything else.

Finally they left the tunnel and entered the chamber. It was roughly circular, with a low ceiling, and the whole room seemed to slope slightly downward, the floor tilted toward the opening to the next mine tunnel at the opposite end. Robert and Maggie entered first, trying to concentrate and keep their guns aimed despite the overpowering stench. Behind them, Eleanor raised the lantern so they could all see what was in the room.

“Oh, my God,” Maggie choked out.

The chamber was the scene of a massacre. It was a slaughterhouse, with blood and gore splattered on the dirt walls and spilled all over the floor. There was broken junk and debris lying everywhere, discarded tools and clothing, smashed crates and tables, and among the wreckage were bodies. Mutilated, butchered human bodies, at least half a dozen of them, although it was hard to tell exactly how many. They were sprawled in unnatural positions, their limbs broken, their bodies torn open and eviscerated like corpses in an abattoir. Some had arms or legs completely torn off, others had their stomachs savagely ripped apart, spilling their entrails.

They looked like they had been brutally slaughtered by some vicious wild animal like a tiger or bear, but even a tiger could not do something like this. It was not the random violence of a wild animal, it was deliberate and intentional, ruthless and cold-blooded. Trying to comprehend the mind of a being capable of such bloodthirsty butchery was enough to push someone to the brink of madness. Just gazing upon the grisly tableau threatened their already tenuous grasp on sanity.

Robert was shaking his head. “This … this isn’t recent, this must have happened days ago …”

“God have mercy,” Eleanor whispered with her eyes tightly shut, making the sign of the cross.

“Who are they?” Maggie said in a weak voice, still holding her hand over her mouth.

Walt’s hands shook uncontrollably, and he let his pickaxe drop to the floor. His breath came in labored gasps, and he forced himself to look into the chamber. He stumbled forward, shouldering Eleanor out of the way, but she was so intent on her prayers that she barely noticed. Walt felt like his legs were about to give out under him. He pushed Maggie aside and staggered into the room of death.

Memories swarmed him like ghosts, swirling around him in a shrieking maelstrom of hatred and accusal. The visions and memories he had been pushing down for so long suddenly flooded into his mind, washing him away like a tidal wave. He fell to his knees under the onslaught, a moan of despair escaping his lips. With shaking hands, he reached out and touched one of the mutilated bodies, his fingers clutching at its leg, which was cold and stiff. Crumbs of dried blood and gore flaked away.

He felt like he was being pressed in a vise, relentlessly crushing his soul until it was squeezed down to nothing. He had never claimed to be a good man, or a friendly one, or even an honest one. But everything he had done in his life, he believed he could justify. For better or worse, he had lived his life without regret. Until now.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” he sobbed.

Their names were burned into his memory, their faces etched forever in the darkest corners of his subconscious. Hank Lewis, Tommy Willsbough, Ed Clay, Dennis Forsythe, Bill Stein, Charlie Harper. Prospectors like him, grizzled miners with years of experience. Hard men, one and all. They’d teamed up together to make one last run at the mines in Peaceful Valley before they went dry, and by some miracle they struck pay dirt, discovering a vein worth millions.

They could have stopped there and cashed out, but something had taken hold of them. They’d been in the mines too long, under the potent effects of dark stone, and something insidious had crept into their minds, urging them to keep digging deeper and deeper, chasing an even bigger vein. They were obsessed, driven mad with lust for more dark stone.

Everything had happened at once. They had been digging in shifts, and Walt had been hauling up some buckets of dirt and rock when he heard the screaming from below. Savage, inhuman screaming, as if the world itself was being tortured to death. And then he was running with the other miners, running for his life, as a flood of demons swarmed up from the bowels of the earth. As the demons descended on them, Walt kept running, even as the others had screamed for help. He could still hear their cries ringing in his ears, begging him not to leave them behind, crying for salvation, begging not to die. But Walt had not stopped for anything.

He had kept running until he was back in town. Dazed, exhausted, and half-mad, he had crawled into the nearest saloon and had been there ever since last night, when Robert found him.

“I’m sorry,” he moaned, burying his face in the blood-stained dirt. “I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry …”

He felt arms around his shoulders. “Walter. Walter, it’s all right,” Eleanor said soothingly. “This isn’t your fault. You aren’t to blame.”

“I left them,” he choked out. “They were … they were my friends … and I ran away … I left them to die …”

“I cannot absolve you of your guilt,” Eleanor said. “That is your cross to bear. But it is not a sin to be afraid, Walter. In the face of unspeakable evil, even a brave man can surrender to fear. God has not given up on you, Walter. God has a plan for all of us.”

Walt wanted to shove her away. “There ain’t no God,” he spat. “God didn’t do nothing to save them. He didn’t do nothing to save Elijah and those other folks who died in town.”

“It is not our place to question God’s plans,” Eleanor said calmly. “It is only up to us to live our life as best we can.”

Robert stepped over, his shotgun cradled in his arms. “Listen, Walt. I’ve seen some damn terrifying things, and let me tell you that sometimes, all you can do is run away and save yourself. If you had stayed here and tried to save your friends, you’d have been killed too. And then there wouldn’t have been anyone to show me which mine these creatures came from. Without you, Walt, we would never have made it this far.”

“You see, Walter?” Eleanor said. “I believe God has a plan for you after all.”

“No,” Walt said in a tortured voice, shaking his head bitterly. “God ain’t got no plan.”

“Please, Walter ...”

Walt shook off her arm. “Just leave me be, woman.”

“Maybe God has a plan and maybe He doesn’t,” Robert said firmly. “But I sure as Hell have one. My plan is to get to the bottom of this mine and find Jake Hodges and Hannah Thompson. Now, if you don’t want to go any further, Walt, I understand.”

He knelt down beside Walt, his shotgun balanced across his knees. “But let me tell you something else. You couldn’t save your friends, Walt, but maybe you can help save someone else. Or you can get some revenge, at least. Now, what’s it gonna be?”

“Even after all this,” Walt said, “you still think we can save ‘em?”

Robert nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Walt’s hands were still shaking, but he held out his arm, and Robert helped him back to his feet. He roughly wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. Maggie handed him his pickaxe, which he had dropped in the doorway to the chamber.

“How much deeper is the mine?” Robert asked.

Walt cleared his throat and looked away. “Not much more. Just one straight tunnel and the last chamber we were diggin’ out.”

“All right, then,” Robert said. “We’re almost at the end. Let’s finish this.”

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