Fangs of the Dark

The man let his fingers run against the damp, mossy wall. Darkness clawed at the bubble of light created by his torch, running on half the needed batteries. Time was running out and so was his luck. How had he gotten here? He had been following the tunnel for only a few minutes – he had woken in a small chamber, with one way out. His wallet, mobile phone and pen-knife were all gone, but he had been left with his torch and been given a small dagger. The man had pocketed this and, switching on the torch, walked down the passageway. The scene was something out of an adventure movie, a long dark tunnel leading into oblivion. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep on a private jet headed into a thick Peruvian forest. He was an archaeologist and had received an anonymous tip telling of a new find that could revolutionise the study of the Incas, especially how the military functioned and was used.

He had been ecstatic; it was the kind of thing that changed careers and lives forever. The tip had come in the form of a telegram, obscure and frustratingly anonymous. He took cautious steps. The walls bore no markings, just grey bricks stacked crudely on top of each other, rotting with moss crawling all over them. He cursed his naivety, his desperate eagerness. He had travelled alone, there was no time to assemble a team – his tipster emphasised the urgency of the matter. Now he was lost in an underground tunnel with nothing but a torch and dagger for company. It was cool in the tunnel but the man was sweating profusely. Adventure had always appealed to him but he felt eyes everywhere – he felt like a trapped rodent.

He tried calling out, but to no avail.

Soon the passageway opened up into a decorated chamber, perfectly square, measuring around ten feet across. He illumined every corner, one by one, with awe. The walls were lined with gold, telling stories of what looked like territorial battles. Light from his torch reflected off of the gold and bounced jubilantly around the chamber. In the centre was the most astonishing find of all.

A sarcophagus stood on a pedestal of marble. The top was smooth, polished but dusty. Cobwebs dripped off of it like loose hairs. It was the man’s lucky day.

Leaving the torch in an up-turned position against a wall, he began to prise open the tomb. What would he find? A skeleton buried in an unfeasible pile of gold? A pile of jewels, perhaps? It was not typical of the Incas to have such lavish tombs. This was not just a career breakthrough; it was way bigger than that now. There was too much at stake. The top would not budge.

Cursing, he fell backwards in anguish. He felt forsaken, forgotten. The darkness was waiting to swallow him whole and his unreliable batteries were in league with that notion. The greed was already implanted in his heart; it was too late to turn back. He looked around for something to help him open the sarcophagus. As he did so, however, he realised he wouldn’t need help. Embedded in the side of the large marble structure was a circular hole big enough for one to fit an arm in. Without thinking twice he delved into the cavity, guided by the half-hearted light of his torch.

His hand fell on a lever – he pulled. The sarcophagus might as well have been Pandora’s Box. With a crunching sound the wall to his left jerked, shedding dust that had settled centuries ago.

The man was startled and yanked his hand out, except it refused to come out. The hole had enclosed his forearm and he was stuck in an awkward position on the floor of the chamber, with only ominous shadows for company. Panic was spreading in the man. He could feel the marble shaking – something was freeing itself in the tomb.

His breathing rate soared and he felt his muscles screaming as he wrenched at his arm harder and harder.

Finally it gave way. With a cry of victory the man ran for the torch. When he was there, he swivelled around, looking for the best way out. He drew his dagger and growled at the sarcophagus. That was when the batteries failed.

The man heard the lid of the sarcophagus finally moan and fall away. Something grasped the side of the tomb, a cackle emanating from within.

The darkness finally claimed him, engulfing his body and mind like a wizard’s cloak.