Shan, Darren - Cirque Du Freak 10 - The Lake of Souls

"No," I muttered, spreading my fingers slightly in front of my eyes, allowing my pupils to adjust. "It's just a …" I stopped as my fingers parted. Lowering my hands, I gazed around, bewildered.

"Darren?" Harkat said. When I didn't answer, he poked his head through the door. "What's …?" He stopped when he saw what I was looking at, and stepped into the room, speechless. Spits did the same moments later.

We were in a large kitchen, like any modern kitchen back on Earth. There was a fridge — the source of the buzzing — a sink, cupboards, a bread bin, a kettle, even a clock over the table, though the hands had stopped. Closing the door to the room to keep the spiders out, we quickly searched the cupboards. We found plates, mugs, glasses, cans of food and drink (no labels or dates on the cans). There was nothing in the fridge when we opened it, but it was in full working order. "What's going on?" Spits asked. "Where'd all this stuff come from? And what's that?" Hailing from the 1930s, he'd never seen a fridge like this before.

"I don't—" I started to answer, then stopped, my eyes falling on a saltcellar on the table — there was a piece of paper underneath, with a note scribbled across it. Removing the saltcellar, I scanned the note in silence, then read it out loud.

 

"'Top of the morning to you, gentlemen! If you've made it this far, you're doing splendidly. After your narrow escape in the temple, you've earned a rest, so put your feet up and tuck into the refreshments — courtesy of this kitchen's previous owner, who never got round to enjoying them. There's a secret exit tunnel behind the refrigerator. It's a few hundred metres to the surface. After that, you face a short walk to the valley wherein lies the Lake of Souls. Head due south and you can't miss it. Congratulations on overcoming the obstacles to date. Here's hoping all goes well in the final stretch. Best regards, your dear friend and sincere benefactor — Desmond Tiny.'"

Before discussing the note, we nudged the fridge aside and checked behind it. Mr Tiny had told the truth about the tunnel, though we wouldn't know for sure where it led until we explored it.

"What do you think?" I asked Harkat, sitting and pouring myself one of the fizzy drinks from the cupboard. Spits was busy examining the fridge, oohing and aahing with wonder at the advanced technology.

"We have to do as … Mr Tiny says," Harkat replied. "We were heading in a general … southerly direction anyway."

I glanced at the note again. "I don't like the bit about 'here's hoping all goes well in the final stretch'. It sounds as though he thinks itwon't !'

Harkat shrugged. "He might have said that … just to worry us. At least we know we're … close to the—"

We were startled by a shrill cry. Leaping to our feet, we saw Spits turning away from one of the cupboards, which he'd moved on to after the fridge. He was shaking and there were tears in his eyes.

"What is it?" I yelled, thinking it must be something dreadful.

"It's … it's …" Spits held up a bottle full of a dark golden liquid, and broke into a wet-eyed grin. "It'swhisky !" he croaked, and his face was as awe-filled as the Kulashkas' had been when they knelt before their Grotesque god.

 

Several hours later, Spits had drunk himself into a stupor and lay snoring on a rug on the floor. Harkat and I had eaten a filling meal and were resting against a wall, discussing our adventures, Mr Tiny and the kitchen. "I wonder where all this … came from?" Harkat said. "The fridge, food and drinks … are all from our world."

"The kitchen too," I noted. "It looks to me like a nuclear fallout shelter. I saw a programme about places like this. People built underground shelters and stocked them with imperishable goods."

"You think Mr Tiny transported an entire … shelter here?" Harkat asked.

"Looks that way. I've no idea why he'd bother, but the Kulashkas certainly didn't build this place."

"No," Harkat agreed. He was silent a moment, then said, "Did the Kulashkas remind you … of anyone?"

"What do you mean?"

"There was something about their appearance … and the way they talked. It took me a while to work it out … but now I have it. They were like the Guardians of the Blood."

The Guardians of the Blood were strange humans who lived in Vampire Mountain and disposed of dead vampires in exchange for their internal organs. They had white eyes like the Kulashkas, but no pink hair, and spoke in a strange language which, now that I thought about it, did seem quite like the Kulashkas'.

"Therewere similarities," I said hesitantly, "but differences too. The hair was pink, and the eyes were a duller white colour. Anyway, how could they be related?"

"Mr Tiny might have transported … them here," Harkat said. "Or maybe this is where the Guardians of the … Blood originally came from."

I mused that one over for a while, then rose and walked to the door.

"What are you doing?" Harkat asked as I opened the door on to the tunnel.