Level 14

By Al Slippers

When a safety check at a South African platinum mine fails to spot a major, unstable crack behind a support beam, trouble is inevitable. Yet, trouble was already brewing from so many directions, told vividly in this tale that gets right inside the heads of the characters – the stress, the fear, the pain and the suffering, those who have an agenda of their own and those who may have already lost control. Many will die in the disaster on Level 14, and more will be murdered both on the surface and deep in the mine when, finally, long suppressed evil runs unrestrained.

The cave-in also reveals hidden beauty alongside terror that no one could have imagined. Can anyone survive such unspeakable horror, trapped far underground with little hope of escape and when the members of the rescue team are heading towards being the next victims of the unexpected menace? Surely someone has the determination, the experience and the strength of character to make it back to the surface.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Strict Publishing International
• Release date: Oct 26, 2014
• ISBN: 9780857793652

Al Slippers

Al Slippers is a South African poet, and author of horror fiction, who was born in Benoni, near Johannesburg, Gauteng Province.She currently resides in a small town called Lichtenburg, Northwest of South Africa with her family.Her first poem, My Vampire, was published by Femalefirst.co.uk. She is bilingual and speaks both Afrikaans and English fluently.

Book preview

Part 1

Chapter 1

August 10th, 3:30 AM

At half past three in the morning, the Platinum Mine was in full swing. The huge belt running out from the sorting room had already started dropping its load onto the growing mountain of rocks in the east. Around the grey mountain, tipper-trucks busied themselves. The trucks came in around three each morning and departed before five with their daily loads.

If you visited the mine any time during the week, it would look this busy. In many ways, Jacques preferred the weekend silence. But today was another Monday. Not the quiet weekends he liked.

It’s only another bloody Monday, like every single darn one of them over the last ten years, Jacques Richardson muttered, buttoning his white overall top as he made his way into the corridor.

The corridor stood empty and abandoned, with only the fluorescent lights hanging low as companions. The cream steel structure with its zinc roofing blended well into the mine setting. There were not many people in the long corridor this time of the morning, but in an hour’s time, this place would buzz with life and the corridor would fill up. All shapes and sizes would stream through here for the morning shift. Nonetheless, for now he welcomed the emptiness with open arms.

Jacques glanced to his left where a few scattered white trailers stood out like sore thumbs. The trailers belonged to the Matthews’ Contractor Group who worked on the older belts of the mine. Jacques did not like them, having regular fallouts because of the way they ran their operations underground. In many ways, they reminded him of the runts in hyena packs, weak and little.

Moving his eyes away from the abandoned trailers in irritation, Jacques glanced down at his gumboots, which felt uncomfortable this morning. He should have put on his woollen socks but felt so hung over from last night’s drinking session he never thought of it.

Jacques feared that before the day was over he would have blisters everywhere. Maybe there was still a pair of old woollen socks somewhere in his office, he thought, wiggling his toes inside the gumboots.

A few blisters won’t kill you, man, Jacques grumbled, shaking his head in disagreement over turning back. The sooner he got the job done and could go back to his office and sleep, the better. His head was pulsating. Moaning through parched lips, he touched his left temple.

His white hard hat with the blue and yellow lamp fixture on it felt heavy and out of place on his head. Jacques wished he could remove it, but he knew the rules as well as anyone else did. With his luck, if he took it off, one of the safety officers would be waiting at the end of the corridor. Relentless and cruel shits, they were. They would write him up so he would have to face Tobias in a hearing. Tobias, the father-in-law from hell, was a son of a bitch you never messed with. From previous rows, Jacques had learned it was safer to do what the man ordered than defy his strictures.

I’d rather suffer in silence than face the bastard, Jacques hissed, wishing he had drunk a cup of coffee before leaving his office this morning. His mouth felt pasty with thick saliva, a drawback of drinking so heavily, but at least the drink gave him an escape for a few hours. Irritated with himself and the previous evening’s after-taste, he tugged at the black utility belt around his waist, where the lamp battery had dragged it askew.

"Aspirins would have done the trick as well, you know," the Voice insisted.

Yes, aspirin would have helped a lot, but he had some dope left. Jacques slipped his hand over his breast pocket almost in a caressing manner. If it was not for this stub, he might have taken sick leave today. Then, as the idea of sick leave and Miranda flashed before Jacques’s red swollen eyes, he let out another moan. He would rather spend the morning working down under than go home to Miranda. Any man would rather suffer a few hours at work than go home to a nit-picking fat bitch like Miranda. She had once been a beautiful woman who lit up any room with her presence. But now she was a fat slobbering pig with red spiky hair, who sat stuffing her face with candy.

Jacques did not want to think of Miranda so early in the morning, especially, not with a hangover still knocking around his senses.

"Keep your concentration on the task, man," the Voice interrupted, but now closer to the surface of his mind than before.

Yes, yes, the task at hand, which always seemed to be a waste of his time and energy. Jacques wished the miners would do their jobs properly. With every single small crack in the rock facing they would yell wolf, making him go down unnecessarily. These days he was spending more time investigating false reports of cracks than getting any real work done. Reports from last week covered his desk, and they needed doing when he got back to his office.

If it were not for the money or the benefits, he would have given up a long time ago. Sometimes he wondered if even the money was worth it at all.

From a distance, Jacques could see the giant grey shaft tower, silhouetted in the darkness, and in the middle of it stood the cage that would take him down into the dark depths of the earth today, and again rage and aggravation towards the miners filled him.

"This is so unfair. You hate these people," the Voice whispered, making Jacques quicken his steps as he made his way towards the cage.

Next to the yellow monstrosity stood a man he knew as Ethan Botha. Even from this far, he could see Ethan busying himself with his clipboard, and heard a groan deep within him. Of all the people who could have been on the shift, it had to be this dork Ethan, with his teeth that went in every direction. He always reminded Jacques of a WWE wrestler who had had one too many encounters with the losing side of a fist. Women, he suspected, would think Ethan was not a shabby looking kid, but he would not admit it himself. The tanned muscles bulging in his tight fitting overalls might get the women swooning, but to Jacques, Ethan Botha was an ugly troll.

"Your neighbour’s dog is smarter than this man is, I tell you." The Voice gave his opinion again, making Jacques snicker at the memory of their old neighbour’s mutt, the one with the floppy ear and drooling tongue that always hung askew from one side of its mouth.

The crushed gravel made a crunching sound under his number eleven gumboots, as the path between him and the yellow cage grew smaller.

Why does plastic and rubber always have to make the noise seem worse than it is? Jacques thought, shuddering, hating the sounds echoing in the morning air. It gave him the creeps, like everything else in this place.

Yes, yes, Jacques, and how was your weekend? Ethan asked a little more loudly than needed, looking up from his clipboard and giving one of his famous smiles.

"Why not shout even louder, you troll. It is not as though the shaft next door heard you yet," the Voice inside of Jacques mind screamed, almost making the words spill out, but Jacques locked his jaw tight, just in time, and only nodded.

The lights on the bank were much brighter than in the corridor, making Jacques swollen, scratchy eyes watery and itching. Why the lights had to be so bright he never understood. There was enough electricity usage on a daily basis in the mine to run a small city for at least a month.

Jacques’s temples gave a nasty awakening shout, protesting heavily against Ethan’s voice and the bright lights.

A full-blown headache is all I need to top this day, he said to himself.

The usual; not worth saying much; you know how it goes, Jacques said, trying not to sound too agitated.

Yeah, I know, Ethan answered, giving Jacques a knowing glance before he went on scribbling onto the piece of paper stuck on his clipboard. Jacques nodded in return, and made his way to a deserted chair that stood near the bank.

To what level must I take you today? Ethan asked, glancing up from the clipboard.

I have to go down to Level 14 today. At least it is only one today, Jacques chuckled nervously, eyeing the cage behind Ethan, and flopped himself onto the chair.

Hell, how I hate this yellow monstrosity, Jacques decided.

Everywhere along its steel body there were scrapes and dimples where it had hit the rock surface. Chipped paint and small rust patches ran the top of the cage. The steel plating, which covered the exterior, seemed too thin to carry the heavy loads of passengers every day, but it did.

You are in luck, dude. I am finished with this log, so if you are ready we can go down. Ethan shrugged, placing the half-chewed pencil behind his right ear. Then, without another word, he led the way into the open cage gates, where he stood awaiting Jacques.

Jacques took a huge breather, lifted himself up from the chair and made his way towards Ethan and the monstrosity with wobbly legs.

Slowly he entered the cage, wishing he could turn around and go back to the safety of his office. The cable gave an outstretched moan as it grew accustomed to their weight, making him flinch. The echoing sounds always made him afraid.

Someday this thing is going to end up in the bottom of the shaft, like at the other mine. Jacques trembled at the memory.

Did you hear old Pete is retiring? Ethan’s voice came up through his thoughts, probably not even noticing the sounds the cables above was making.

No, I did not hear that yet. How old is Pete now? Jacques asked through tight lips, still keeping his concentration on the cables above them.

Would not know, dude, but if I were guessing, I’d say he was at least as old as Tafelberg. The dude is really old, Ethan said, moving his big body around, making Jacques groan inwardly as the cage jammed a few times against the inner walls of the shaft.

As old as Tafelberg… Ethan’s words echoed through his mind. Hell, now that was funny!

Jacques felt the laugh build within him, and wished he could throw the man from the cage into the shaft for making him laugh. The vision of Ethan falling down the shaft, flapping like a penguin, came to him. Jacques started laughing more hysterically as he imagined Ethan’s big eyes bulging in terror. They enjoyed the laugh together, even though Ethan did not know the joke was on him. It gave Jacques time to forget the cage with its creaks, groans, and briefly even the raging headache in his temples.

Shaking his head and still giggling, Ethan pressed the buttons for the bells. Tring-Tring-Tring it echoed through the cage, making Jacques stomach leap up to his throat. Oh, mother biscuits I hate this part. With trembling legs, Jacques backed deeper into the cage, and as Ethan slammed the gates shut, he closed his eyes and swallowed.

"Do not think about it."

The cables started to roll downward, echoing through the shaft. It made Jacques think of death protesting against a disturbance in a graveyard. As the darkness swallowed them entirely, Jacques wished he had taken sick leave. Anything would be better, even Miranda’s bitching and moaning.

Jacques still tasted the strong sour after-birth of the night before, praying he would not spill it in the cage. He knew how these people gossiped. Jacques did not want it known that he was drinking heavily again. He could not afford another bawling out from Tobias.

The cage lightly swayed from one side to the other, sometimes knocking softly on the wall facing, but as the cage started picking up speed, the swaying made Jacques think of a boat trip. Hell and I hate boats! Why in the hell would people spend time on a boat anyway?

"Because people are stupid, Jacques. Because they have no more brains than the ants droning around the big fat cheese," the Voice echoed inside his mind.

Yes, people are a lot like ants, he agreed with the Voice, as sweat started to build on his forehead and his hands became so clammy he had to wipe them along the sides of his overalls.

Keeping his eyes closed, he tried to keep his mind on things, which made him happy, and as he relaxed his thoughts started to drift towards Jim and his childhood. Slowly his stomach contents moved back to their proper place.

More relaxed he kept his eyes closed and imagined hearing Jim’s voice and seeing his hands busy with all that tiny, thin wiring.

"That is better, man. Think of old Jim... old Jim and his toys," the Voice encouraged.

Then, as he began getting used to the movement and his thoughts trailed into the abyss of yesteryear, the cables gave a long moan, and stretched like a bungee cord twice before the cage came to a stop, nearly making Jacques lose his footing.

Still swaying violently from side to side, the cage knocked against the wall facing, making Jacques flinch at the impact, and as it came to a soft swaying halt, Jacques opened his eyes.

Thank the gods it was over with for now.

Relief washed over him as the lights from Level 14 flooded the dark cage. If Ethan had not been standing there, he would probably have gone down on his knees and kissed the floor.

Tring-Tring-Tring the sounds of the bells filling the shaft and as the echoes ran up the shaft the answer came back, Tring-Tring-Tring. On cue, Ethan opened the cage gates and stepped out, leading Jacques into the open space. More relaxed, Jacuqes smiled. Are you going up again?

Not in a hurry, so if you hurry yourself a bit, like say in an hour’s time, I can wait here and fill in my log. As long, as you keep it between us. You know how they get if we stay down here too long, Ethan answered, moving towards a nearby chair.

Jacques nodded. Don’t worry. If you don’t say a word, I won’t say a word. He remembered reading something on the roster about slinging, and though he wanted to get out of here as fast as he could, he did not want to be responsible for this man losing his job. Are you guys not slinging today?

Yeah, but the shipment did not arrive yet. So go get your stuff done, but remember if you’re not back in an hour, you’ll have to wait for morning shift to come in, Ethan said, munching like a beaver on his pencil, giving Jacques the greatest urge to hurt the man with the pencil.

Shove it in his neck. You know you want to.

See you in an hour’s time, Jacques said over his shoulder, giving a short wave and moving in the direction of the chairlifts.

The neat walls lining the corridor to the chairlifts misrepresented the reality of this place. Yellow stripes ran diagonally over each wall, with every hundred metres marked off in red, bold painted letters, scribbled in a neat pattern. Lights hung every five to ten meters, caged inside their little wiring covers to protect them from rock falls as well as thieving mining hands. He could never really understand the desire to steal mining equipment, but he felt the urge to do it. It was not as though you could plug these globes into a normal socket. Hell, one globe would probably drain the circuit board in less than half an hour and set off a string of fires.

He sped up a bit, hearing the puff sound the dust made under his boots, pleased it was no longer the gravel sounds any more.

"You should have shoved the pencil up his arse."

Jacques winced and felt an urgent need to get away from Ethan and the pencil he chewed, before the Voice followed up its threat. The Voice always was great with threats... his lifelong companion, the Voice. The only friend he had ever trusted, the only friend who always had his back, but the Voice was capable of almost anything. A love-hate relationship was what they had.

A sigh escaped him as he dragged his thoughts back to the chairlifts, away from the menacing feeling building in his guts. He hoped the chairlifts were working this morning, because he could not afford an hour’s walk, not in this pressure with an upset stomach. He would almost certainly pass out after a couple of hundred metres walking.

As Jacques approached the chairlifts, he was glad to see they were working. He jumped on one and felt more relaxed. Only an hour, and then he could go back to his office and settle down.

The ride with the chairlift made Jacques smile, because how many times in the beginning did he not hear miners calling the mine a circus, but to him, it was more like a merry-go-round. With all the rides and wildlife present, it was a strange place indeed.

Jacques heard many tales from the miners’ stories about big rats living underground, but he had never seen one. Shit, that did not mean they did not exist. He knew some stories were make-believe and turned into being urban legends, but the tales of the rats he was convinced were true. There were too many people in the mining industry who talked about them.

Gigantic rats showing the way out to miners trapped in cave-ins. The miner’s best friend they called them. Well, he was not one of their friends, nor did he ever want to meet one. Hell, he would probably drop down dead from shock meeting one face to face.

Tack, tack, tack, the chairlift moved forward, dragging his thoughts away from the rats. Jacques liked the sound, almost a sort of soothing lullaby.

"Until it goes stuck with you in the air... then it ain’t so soothing any more," the Voice mocked.

Jacques feared the Voice’s prediction and mocking might come true. Uncomfortably, he moved himself on the small seat, the soothing feeling gone, leaving only a new fear in its wake.

He hated everything about the mining industry, everything including the people... Especially on a day like today, feeling the way he did. Life was definitely not fair, and the Voice was not helping the situation either.

"Well, I do not want to be stuck down here looking at cracks. We could always go sit in the Madala shaft and enjoy the bud. It is not too far from here," the Voice whispered, making Jacques wish he could drown the thoughts from his mind, ripping it from his insides and throwing it where it would never bother him again. But Jacques knew he would never do it, not even if he could. The Voice was part of who Jacques was, a part of his past, present and his future. It was his friend and his lifelong companion, and this time the Voice might have something.

No, it was not just something. It was bloody brilliant!

No one would know I had not done the inspection! I could sit in the older part of the shaft for half an hour, then go to my office afterwards, fill out the paper work and relax for the rest of the day.

In any case, the miner did not show up this morning, making him as guilty as Jacques. I did try to get hold of the miner earlier, but the moron would not pick up his phone.

No, I deserve a break! I deserve a bit of time off from the madness around me...

What could possibly go wrong?

"Nothing can go wrong, nothing at all," the Voice echoed his thoughts.

Near the entrance to the site, Jacques jumped from the chairlift and made his way into the tunnel feeling much better.

Yes, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter 2

August 10th, 4:07 AM

The mining lights lit up the dark corridors to the change house as Pete Brown made his way towards it, and he felt a sudden sadness befall his old heart. Today marked the last in his long career in the Mining Industry. Like most, he knew the day would come, but never did he think it would arrive so quickly. When you are young, you never consider that someday you will have to give up something you love with all your heart.

Shaking thoughts of sadness from his mind and getting a grip on his emotions, he moved towards the open doors. Pete usually hated the smells of the change house. There was a strange mixture of sweat, cheap aftershave, and soap hanging in the air, making his stomach turn. Yet, today he felt a strong need to be near the odours, even if they made him gag a bit.

It was a memory he could cling to, of once being part of it all.

As Shorty’s voice sounded up, in a rapture of disagreement in his own language, Pete felt his old heart run a bit faster. The familiar sounds, voices, and smells were firing adrenalin into his blood stream. Even a tiny disagreement between Shorty and another man was something he would miss.

For Pete this was home, between the rough edges and the noise.

He was not looking forwards to leaving, even though his crew were going to be taken over by Thabo Mashebe and not someone like Hank. Pete treated all his crew the same, but Thabo had this way of making people love him. A smile slowly made its way to his tight-lipped mouth, because Susan called the love he had for Thabo a kindred spirit thing. Pete had no idea what it meant, but it sounded about right.

Pete hoped they would never forget him, because he knew how it worked. He hated the thought of growing old all alone with no one to talk to.

Pete had been married for thirty-five years and he loved Susan, but it was not the same. He needed man talk. He did not want to talk every day about knitting or cooking, or even fishing. When his only son Roger, mentioned going fishing together, Pete nearly died inside. Why not take a shovel and starting digging me a grave, he wanted to scream. Yet Pete kept quiet, smiled, and said that would be nice.

Good morning, guys, Pete said, with as much cheer as he could muster, and made his way to his locker.

Good morning, Pete, a cheery voice spoke up. The voice belonged to Thabo, and again the warmth spread within him as the young man approached him.

Thabo was dressed in his new white overalls, gumboots, and hardhat. Pete had given him them yesterday. Warmth filled him again as the memory of an excited Thabo received the package from Pete. To him it was nothing more than another set of clothing, but the idea of the gift meant a hell of a lot more to Thabo. It made Pete gulp. He was going to miss the man.

Then, as Thabo stood in front of him, Pete noticed a small, neatly wrapped blue gift in his dark hands. Pete knew precisely what it was and felt a lump form in his throat. Pleadingly he raised his eyes to meet a pair of brown ones.

The crew and I felt we had to get you something to say thank you, Pete, Thabo said shyly, and Pete could hear that he was not the only one feeling awkward today.

Hell, this was going to be a hard day.

The crew gathered around them and Pete could see familiar faces among them. As usual, Shorty pushed past everyone to see if he was missing anything. Must be the small man complex, Pete thought, as all the other men sighed and gave the small man angry looks of annoyance.

Shadreck with his unusually tall and slender body stood out like a sore thumb above the rest. Yes, all of them were there, and as Thabo handed over the small gift the gang started cheering him on.

Thank you, Pete croaked through his tightly closed throat, as his trembling old hands closed around the small package.

Pete opened it as slowly as possible, trying not to rip the wrapping, and felt the tears flow freely over his cheeks. Hormones, the doctor called it once in his office when he gone in for his monthly routine check-up. He did not like them much, and as the hormones gave their hallelujah kick in his gut, he saw the present lying inside the small box on black velvet.

Shock filled him as he looked down at the expensive watch-face staring back at him. Pete blinked his eyes a few times, to make certain he was seeing correctly. It was magnificent and, knowing the make, he knew it had cost them a small fortune.

I do not know what to say, Pete answered as he nervously put it around his wrist and strapped it securely yet lovingly. It was the best gift anyone had ever given him.

No need for words, Pete. It is our way of saying thanks to you, Thabo said, smiling and giving Pete a friendly slap on the back.

You were the best crew a man could ask for, Pete said, and felt a twisted sense of pride. I am even going to miss Shorty.

One last shift, then it was all over… The words echoed inside his ticker.

Laughter filled the air, breaking the tension, and his crew got busy again, putting on their overalls, getting ready for their shift. Pete opened his locker for the last time.

Placing the small box and wrapping paper next to the photo of his family he kept inside the locker, he made a wish he knew would never come true again.

One day, which could last a lifetime, a lifetime of being here, doing what he loved. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, he busied himself getting ready.

Twenty minutes later, they were all dressed and on their way towards the cage.

Wearing all his gear made the sadness drift away a bit, as they came out into the fresh morning air.

The entrance to the shaft felt bright in the darkness surrounding them, with fluorescent lights hanging every few metres. Their boots made harsh sounds every time they touched the gravel. It was five minutes past five as darkness and sounds echoed down the shaft, but it still felt like night.

Pete. A voice sounded up from behind and interrupted his train of thought.

Not today, not with his last shift around the corner, please not today, Pete prayed into the darkness.

Then Pete turned around to find Hank Keller walking towards him, and he inwardly groaned. Morning, Hank.

I need a favour, Hank said, leaving Pete with a feeling of irritation.

Of course, he wanted a favour. Hank always wanted favours. The bastard with his hollowed out cheeks and jumbo ears was nothing but an idiot.

I need you guys to do Derrick’s area today as well. Got a call from his wife, and she said there was an accident at home, Hank explained, not waiting for Pete to answer.

Pete felt the urge to give the man a good smack. So why do we have to work his area? Pete asked, annoyed, already feeling the heat rise within his veins.

’Cause tomorrow the directors are coming down to Level 14 for inspection, Hank answered, and took a packet of Camels from his pocket and lit one with a lighter, which Pete really rather would have liked to stick up his behind.

Why in the hell can’t you do it? Pete asked slowly, biting on his lower lip.

’Cause the last time I checked, you were the miner and I the boss, Hank answered, taking a huge puff on the cigarette in his hand and turning a light pink around