Dark Cold
When was it going to end?
Maryjoe could see no end in sight nor could she believe she was capable of lasting the distance. She felt she was in a horror story in side a horror story and there was no Knight in white, shining armour to save her. She was on her own and would have to manage as best she could.
She had lost track of time. It no longer had any meaning to her, as did the day or night. There was just darkness and light, black and white, which had lost its significance. She knew she had to make a break soon… end the whole sad affair but it would not be easy. She had almost lost the will to try. Once that had melted away completely Maryjoe knew there would be nothing but blackness, a darkness so intense it would blind her soul.
Now there was only blackness, a blackness so black in fact she could be at the centre of a Black Hole, although not all things are consumed by it. Maryjoe had no way of knowing which direction to take to find her way out… if there was a way out of her dilemma. She had read the latest theory and was determined to prove it correct if only the pain in her head would reduce a little.
The darkness had struck swiftly and without warning. Afterwards she’d had vague memories, impressions really, of sliding over things, bumping her head and body, flashes of light which she though was in her head and periods of blankness which could have been sleep. Her body was sore and aching and she had discovered several lumps on her head, one of them at the back of her head being painful to the touch and caked by a sticky substance. Her fingers had gently probed the area and further investigation by smell and taste had forced on her the conclusion it was blood.
Painfully she tried to think back to the time before darkness. She had been traversing horizontally at the time. That much she could clearly remember. Then a rock must have fallen on me, she decided. Why can I remember sliding and rolling? That puzzled her for some time and the pain in her head prompted her to stop thinking and she closed her eyes.
How long Maryjoe slept, if indeed she had slept, she had no way of knowing. She found she had no wristwatch to indicate time and assumed it must have been lost. Realising she had lost her watch she remembered something else she did not have. Her small backpack, which contained her spare torch and batteries, supply of food and water, was also missing. She could not fathom out how that could have been pulled from her shoulders. She searched around without moving too much, because she had discovered severe pain whenever she tried to move her leg, but could not find it close to her... Struggling to pierce together what had happened Maryjoe was sure she had it with her before the darkness struck her… but it could have been earlier or at a different time all together.
At one point Maryjoe wondered if she had lost her sight, become blind for some reason, but she pushed that quickly into the deepest recess of her mind. That was too terrifying to even contemplate.
So what has happened, she asked herself?
She could not have slid or rolled because the ground she was traversing at the time was horizontal. Perhaps the ground beneath me gave way and I have fallen to a lower, and unknown, level. She had found loose rocks and boulders around her when searching for her backpack she remembered.
But why was everything so silent? Why was her husband, Jeffery, not shouting? That thought had popped into her head as it were from nowhere. Where was he? “Oh, my God,” she cried out, suddenly realising she had forgotten he had been with her. Panic began to grow within her as the possibilities for his silence began to force their way to the forefront of her mind. “Jeffrey,” she screamed. “Jeffery.” Her voice echoed back at her, mooching her, laughing at her. Desperately holding back her tears she waited for the silence to envelope her in its suffocating malignancy. Maryjoe cried out again but received nothing more than a bating echo followed by a dark silence.
Could being at a lower level be the cause? Perhaps she was sealed in and he could not hear her? The more she tried to force herself to remember the more her head hurt. Maryjoe lay against the cold, rocky floor close to tears as she tried to empty her mind of everything. As she slipped into semi-consciousness the pain from the blow to her head and that behind her eyes began to fade and she allowed her eyes to close. In the complete and total blackness, which only a few have experienced, she was unsure whether she had slept or lost consciousness and indeed if she had for how long. But she was aware of the cold beginning to penetrate her body.
But it was not all quiet. There was something else, something intermittent and yet regular, almost a rat-tat-tat. Was it a knock on the door, Maryjoe wondered or was it something more sinister? Could it be rats? “Not rats. Don’t let it be rats,” she cried picking up a small stone and throwing it in the general direction of where she thought the sound emanated from. “I hate rats. I hate them,” she shouted again into the darkness only to be mooched by her own distorted voice echoing back at her. Once the silence returned so did the persistent, if irregular, sound.
Concentrating on the sound Maryjoe realised her mind had been playing tricks on her. It was no knock on the door and neither was it rats. It was water, water dripping onto something. The familiarity of the sound was comforting and pushed back the panic that was threatening to consume her. She was not yet ready to face up to the predicament she had begun to believe faced her. The sound of dripping water was like a friend.
Maryjoe now knew she was in that place where the blackness was so deep, so all encompassing her eyes would never become accustomed to it because there was no light, no flicker, no beam, no pulse, no photon. She was, for all intense and circumstances, blind, totally and completely blind.
“Jeffery. Jeffery. Jeffery,” she screamed over and ever again.
Her only reply was the mooching of the echoes being flung back at her.
As the silence settled heavily on her the panic she had kept subdued bubbled to the surface at the total isolation that faced her. Maryjoe broke down, crying bitterly, tears running down her cheeks and dropping onto the rocky floor to mingle with the dampness of the dripping water.
How long she cried Maryjoe did not know, had no way of knowing. Visions of her dying in complete loneliness in a hell of blackness assailed her imagination. She became parallised with fear and despair, dread and a feeling of powerlessness. She led on the rocky floor in resignation.
Ions of time later, or was it just seconds; memories gradually came hurtling back from where they had been secured. Whilst manoeuvring through a horizontal section Maryjoe could remember falling into oblivion. The tunnel had narrowed and appeared to be turning to the right. She had followed it expecting Jeffery to be waiting for her. She had thought nothing of it at the time and had continued, probably taking less care than she should have, she accepted, to catch up with him. Although he had warned her there were several dangerous sections he had assured her they would by-pass them.
Now Maryjoe wondered. Doubts were beginning to gain ascendancy. “Where the hell are you,” she shouted. The only reply she received was the one she expected. “You should have been there. You must have known it was not the way for me to go.”
“Perhaps he wanted you to make that mistake,” a voice said in her head. “Perhaps he planned it that way.”
“No. No. No,” Maryjoe screamed. “Jeffery wouldn’t do that,” she whispered pitifully. “Jeffery. Where are you?” she shrieked.
If she expected any reply her mind was numb to the echoing jeers.
She called his name again but the result was no different, no answering call, no shout of reassurance, nothing except the dark silence after the echoing jeers had died away. Maryjoe was finally forced to face the facts.
She was alone, alone in the most complete darkness anyone could experience.
She had no food although there was water close by.
She had no light.
She had no compass.
As Maryjoe listed the items in her mind the severity of her situation became clear. For a time she could not think, didn’t want to think. It was the way her mind had reacted to prevent panic rising and it was desperately striving to reach the fore… and panic was her worst enemy.
Thoughts, unwelcome thoughts, began to twist and turn like wraiths in her mind gradually took shape. She found herself thinking, and almost believing, it had all been an elaborate ploy to lure her to her death. “Jeffery. You should have been there to prevent me taking the wrong turning,” she shouted into the all consuming darkness. Although the sound of her voice was somewhat comforting it also had an ominous element to it. “You said you knew these caves like the back of your hand. So why am I lying here at the bottom of some pit. Are you listening, Jeffery?”
Then another thought nudged its way to the surface. “Perhaps he thought I would never survive the fall… and if I did I would not be found until it was too late,” she muttered through knuckles pressed against her mouth.
Once again the darkness was pieced by the sound of her tears mocking her. After a while the flow of tears stopped and she became calm. Every time she moved she was wracked with pain. She knew she must have broken a few bones. Her leg and chest were the most painful so she sensed she had broken at least one rib as well as her leg. Movement was out of the question since that might cause the gagged rib end to pierce a lung.
When she realised she had returned from some blacker place even than the darkness she could feel the cold beginning to break through her thermal protection. She had no idea how long it would take for hyperthermia to set in but she knew it would only be a matter of time. She hoped she had that time.
With reality came that dark voice in her mind. “How do you know he left the details with the Caving Club? You have only his word that he told them where you were going and for how long.”
“No. No. No,” she cried. “He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t leave me here to die… not here… not alone in this blackest of darkness.” She was silent as the taunting echoes died away. But where was he, she wondered as the doubts began to gain a foothold in her mind. She sank into the silence not wishing to believe any of the thoughts forcing themselves through from her sub-conscious.
But it was a loosing battle.
He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t. He loved you, a small, very small voice replied.
But people change, the first voice countered slyly. Even those we think we know the best.
Not Jeffery, the small voice replied determinately continuing the ping-pong of ideas.
He has been acting strangely lately, the stronger voice with controlled elation.
That is true, the small voice was forced to admit. But it could be for any number of reasons.
But if he was thinking of doing something this would be a good way to cover his tracks. He could deny any knowledge of what you had decided to do. You did use your own car after all.
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” she shouted and pounded her hand onto the rocky floor sending waves of pain and nausea from her head to her stomach. She realised she was allowing the impenetrable darkness to sink her into despair. She struggled to keep it at bay.
But it was difficult.
The doubts were quite convincing, she could not move without experiencing pain, she was afraid to move without knowing what was around her. There were periods when she lapsed into sleep or semi-consciousness so that time ceased to exist. It was after one such period she thought she heard voices and saw lights. “Help. Help me. I’m here,” she called out several times.
But the voices were her own and she realised she had been hallucinating.
Don’t let him win. Do not give in no matter how hard it becomes, the small voice in her mind cried. Help will come. It will come. You have to believe that.
“Yes. Help will come,” she repeated in a whisper. “Help will come.” Her eyes snapped open to reveal… total blackness. “I must believe help will come or I will go insane. It will come… I know it will,” she muttered more firmly although actual belief was way below expectation. “Help will come… It will,” she shouted into the blackness as of death.
“I must keep myself awake,” she told herself. But how?”
After a few moments of silence she started to say the alphabet backwards in her head but the blackness surrounding her snuffed it out within seconds. She tried mental maths. But the result was the same. She almost gave up at that point. What’s the point, she thought.
What about your husband,” the small voice asked. “Are you going to allow him to get away with your murder?
That thought quickly rallied her resolve.
She started saying things out loud and the echoes from the blackness seemed, to her at least, to be less mocking of her resolve. Then she started singing, repeating the songs over and over again until her throat became dry and sore. But she refused to give up. Even then she continued, in more of a croak than anything, her favourite songs.
It was during one of her brief spells of silence she heard it… or thought she had heard it. She listened intently for some time but there was nothing to hear. She started singing again only to stop in mid sentence. There it was again.
“A voice. It’s a voice,” she told herself hardly daring to believe it.
But there it was again and this time much closer.
She held her breath praying it was real and not an illusion.
The voices… there were more than one, came closer. “Don’t take the right fork,” she clearly heard some one say. “That drops into a deep sump which is dry at the moment.
She listened to the voices as though they were the most precious things in the world. She was no longer alone. It wasn’t until they began to move away was she shaken from her ecstasy. “No. No. Come back. Please come back. Don’t leave me here,” she screamed as loud as she could.
For a moment all sounds ceased. The cave appeared to be waiting for the final saga to enfold. Would they hear her or would they continue on their way oblivious of her calls.
“Don’t leave me here,” she screamed as panic began to breakdown her fragile determination, before all hope was snuffed out, before she became hysterical.
Then in the cruel silence scuffling sounds of boots on rock echoed down to her followed by the beam of a powerful lantern darting this way and that erratically which was soon followed by a second.
She fixed her tortured eyes on those magical beams of light as they criss-crossed the almost vertical shaft into which she had fallen. “Here. I’m here,” she called in not much more than a croak fearful that she would not be heard and would be left in that soul-destroying blackness for ever.
Then a beam of light flashed over her. She thought she hadn’t been seen but before she could scream her panic both beams of light settled on her. She had to half close her eyes against the brightness. But she did notice her backpack no more than a metre away.
After that it was all noise and light much of which she couldn’t remember. She could remember being in an ambulance but then events became a little hazy with bright lights and faces moving in and out of focus.
“Welcome back, Mrs Jeremy,” a man in a white coat said when she opened her eyes. “I am Dr Meredydd. You are in a hospital. You have had a rough couple of days.”
“What happened?”
“Well you suffered a nasty blow to your head giving you a slight concussion, two broken ribs, a broken right femur and several lacerations. But you are well on the way to recovery.”
“What… My husband?”
“I am sorry to have to tell you we could do nothing for him I’m afraid. He must have had a heart attack. He was found where a recent fall had occurred and where you fell. He was dead before he was found.”
She mumbled something unintelligible and tears rolled down her cheeks as a feeling of freedom and guilt spread over her although the feeling of guilt quickly died as she rose towards a triumphal euphoric state of mind. Already the events of her trauma were becoming very clear. She realised they thought her husband had tried to rescue her and the effort and stress had been too much.
Much of what she remembered had been the ramblings of a confused mind brought about by the concussion and the absolute blackness.
In reality they had stopped for a snack and she had given him his morning injection of insulin since it was to be a long day. But on this occasion she had incorporated potassium chloride into it. His unexpected reaction had sent her falling into space. The rest you know.