The beetle

We’ve found a cave. Not a tunnel like the one we were in – just a hollow in the rock-that-isn’t rock. The river’s keeping the fire at bay and this evening, for the first time, the flames seem to be dying down. The sunset was glorious – gold and tawny light melting through thunderheads of ash and smoke.

Kathy’s been telling me about where we are.

‘It’s a mountain range called the Grampians,’ she said as the sky darkened to silver-blue. ‘You know where Scotland is?’

‘I find it hard to keep human names in my head,’ I said. ‘But I think I know where you mean.’

‘But I’m not from Scotland originally,’ Kathy went on. ‘I’m from London. I’m due back at the weekend. Was due back, I should say.’ She stared into the twilight. ‘Mona – I’ve got this awful feeling in my stomach.’

‘You’re probably hungry. I know I am.’

‘No. Well, yes, but that’s not it. I’m beginning to think … Mona, I haven’t woken up yet.’

She was shaking all over. Her soft hands trembled in her lap.

‘That’s because this isn’t a dream,’ I said, as gently as I could.

She hid herself in a corner of the cave. She’s there now, still shaking, and sobbing a little. I don’t think there’s anything I can do for her. She’ll either deal with this or she won’t. It’s out of my control.

So I’ve turned my attention elsewhere. To this cave or, more specifically, the stuff it’s made from.

Like I said, it looks like rock but seems more like wood. When I scratch it with my claw, it splinters like the bark of a tree. If I dig deeper, it starts bleeding green sap. The sap has a fresh, sweet smell, like pine. Other parts of the cave floor bleed clear resins, or black syrups. Parts of the ceilng are green and mossy. The air is damp.

Near the entrance is a deep fissure. There’s some kind of insect hive down there. After a lot of probing I managed to dig one of the insects out. It’s a beetle of some kind, with a shiny black shell. Its shell has a fine grain to it, like the grain of split timber. Its legs look like twigs. So strange.

Kathy has stopped crying. I think she’s asleep. Time for me to sleep too. The fire will burn itself out over the next few days, with luck. Then we’ll have a chance to explore properly. Tomorrow I’ll tell Kathy what I think we’re up against, and why our chances of survival are slim. Maybe even non-existent.

I wonder how she’ll take the news.