The Charnel Caves Read online

  The Charnel Caves

  Guy N. Smith

  Also by Guy N. Smith:

  WEREWOLF OMNIBUS

  Further reading by the Sinister Horror Company:

  WHAT GOOD GIRLS DO – Jonathan Butcher

  MARKED – Stuart Park

  HELL SHIP – Benedict J. Jones

  DEVIL KICKERS – Daniel Marc Chant & Vincent Hunt

  CORPSING – Kayleigh Marie Edwards

  FOREST UNDERGROUND – Lydian Faust

  CANNIBAL NUNS FROM OUTER SPACE – Duncan P. Bradshaw

  MANIAC GODS – Rich Hawkins

  DEATH – Paul Kane

  THE BAD GAME – Adam Millard

  TERROR BYTE – J. R. Park

  PUNCH – J.R Park

  UPON WAKING – J. R. Park

  MAD DOG – J. R. Park

  GODBOMB! – Kit Power

  BREAKING POINT – Kit Power

  I DREAM OF MIRRORS – Chris Kelso

  Visit SinisterHorrorCompany.com for further information on these and other titles.

  PRESENTS

  The Charnel Caves

  Copyright © 2019 Guy N. Smith

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Edited by J. R. Park

  Interior design by J. R. Park

  Cover design by Vincent Hunt

  Published by The Sinister Horror Company

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  THE CHARNEL CAVES -- 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-912578-13-9

  SinsiterHorrorCompany.com

  The Charnel Caves is another installment in the hugely popular Killer Crabs series by Guy N Smith.

  Other titles include:

  Night Of The Crabs (1976)

  Killer Crabs (1978)

  The Origin Of The Crabs (1979)

  Crabs On The Rampage (1981)

  Crab’s Moon (1984)

  Crabs: The Human Sacrifice (1988)

  Killer Crabs The Return (2012)

  Crabs Omnibus (2015)

  For Ceri Brown.

  My sincere thanks for her help and encouragement in the production of my novels over the years.

  1

  The young couple strolled hand in hand along the beach leading from Shell Island towards Harlech. Billy Brown, ginger haired with freckled features, had celebrated his twenty-third birthday only the previous week. His girlfriend, Ann Morrison, was eighteen with short dark hair and a petite figure. This was their first holiday together, much to the disapproval of both their parents who still clung to outdated beliefs. Nevertheless, they were camping on the island with just a couple of days to go before their return home to Birmingham.

  ‘It’s been a lovely week,’ she stretched up to kiss him, ‘even if it has been too hot to do anything more than just lie in the shade. Yesterday, I’m told, it was thirty degrees. Phew! Thank goodness it’s cooled off a bit this evening. By the way, Billy, I was chatting to somebody in the shop who said that forty years or so ago this coastline had been invaded by crabs as big as cows. I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Well, my dad told me the same. He was on holiday with Mum and, according to him, dozens of these monsters came up out of the sea. Everybody had to run for it. He said the army was called in and there was one helluva battle. But you know how stories get exaggerated over the years. There must be some truth in it though.’

  ‘Well, I just hope we don’t meet up with any,’ she squeezed his hand. ‘It’ll be dark soon, so don’t you think we had better be heading back to camp.’

  ‘There’s no hurry,’ he replied. ‘You’re not getting jittery, are you?’

  ‘Hold on!’ She stopped suddenly, peered into the gathering dusk. ‘What’s that’s up there, sprawled over that rock?’

  He stared up ahead of them. Even at their distance in the encroaching gloom there was no mistaking a human body, a female with arms and legs splayed, a torn dress revealing much of her naked body.

  ‘Stay here!’ Billy’s outstretched arm prevented Ann from following him as he advanced with faltering steps. His mouth was dry, he was trembling.

  He halted a yard or so from the girl, noted the array of deep wounds on her breasts and stomach, like she had been lashed with a whip, pale blue incisions which appeared to curl over the top half of her body. There was no doubt that she was dead, killed by something beyond his comprehension.

  ‘Billy, what’s going on?’

  ‘Don’t come any closer. This… this girl died in… a very strange way. Like… like she’s been…whipped to death. I’ll… I’ll phone the police… we’ll have to stay around until they arrive.’

  ‘Oh God!’ She thought she was going to vomit.

  With shaking hands Billy made the 999 call. He had to convince the police operator that it wasn’t a hoax. Finally, he pocketed his mobile and walked back to join Ann.

  ‘They’re on their way.’ He turned and stared out to sea, unable to bear looking upon that inexplicable horror any longer.

  Ten minutes later a police Land Rover arrived on the road up above followed by an ambulance. A coastguard vehicle brought up the rear.

  The body was loaded into the ambulance. Two police officers remained in discussion with a coastguard. Only then did they approach Billy and Ann.

  ‘We’ll need a statement from you,’ an officer addressed them. ‘I think you had better come to the station with us.’

  ‘What killed the girl?’ Billy blurted out.

  ‘We won’t know for sure until there has been a full investigation and autopsy,’ the officer was non-committal.

  Detective Chief Inspector Williams had been called out, a tall, taciturn man with thinning grey hair. He was less than a year off retirement and it was obvious that he could have done without this latest problem.

  ‘Well, I’d better take a statement from you two,’ he produced a pad from his desk, motioning Billy and Ann to sit down.

  ‘The dead girl is believed to be the daughter of Mr and Mrs Elton who are spending a week’s holiday in Llanbedr. Our officers have gone to break the sad news to them and ask them to identify the body. I…’

  He was interrupted by a tap on the door.

  ‘Come in!’ A terse command.

  The newcomer was of slight build with thinning hair. ‘I got your call, inspector,’ he spoke with a distinct northern accent.

  ‘Ah Professor,’ Williams looked up. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you from whatever you were doing but I would appreciate you knowing the events of this evening. Obviously, we shall not know the cause of death until a full autopsy has been completed, probably by tomorrow.’

  The newcomer grimaced.

  ‘This is professor Danielson of the Marine Conservation Society,’ the inspector nodded to the couple seated opposite him. ‘I would like you to tell him how you first saw the dead girl.’

  Falteringly Billy described their initial discovery of the corpse. He felt nauseous, Ann was pale and trembling.

  ‘At this early stage I am convinced that she was the victim of a Lion’s Mane Jellyfish,’ Danielson stated. ‘They are becoming increasingly common in British waters, mostly due to climate change. There have been sightings off Walney Island in Cumbria and three swimmers were injured, but fortunately survived in Galway. There are several species, but the big one can attain a size of 120 feet long. The largest blue whale has a length of 108 feet!’

  Billy pu
rsed his lips and paled.

  ‘Warmer seas increase plankton levels,’ Danielson continued. ‘These creatures use their tentacles to catch and eat fish and other marine creatures including smaller jellyfish. Doubtless this girl was killed by one although it had not got around to devouring her. Perhaps human flesh is not to its taste!’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Anyway, it is obvious that there is a danger to bathers and swimmers in these coastal waters. Obviously, we cannot ban holidaymakers from them, but I think it is imperative that warning notices should be displayed at intervals long the beaches.’

  ‘I agree with you,’ Williams nodded. ‘I will contact the council tomorrow to see what they can arrange.’

  ‘I’ll leave it to you then.’

  ‘Now,’ the officer stood up, ‘I think we’ve about finished here. Mister Brown, I shall doubtless be needing to speak to you again before you leave the Welsh coast. With luck we shall have a report confirming the exact means whereby Miss Elton died. I shall dispatch one of our lady officials to comfort the parents in these tragic circumstances. Professor, I suggest we meet up in the morning, say around eleven o’clock and determine our next move. Thank you all for your co-operation.’

  He sighed aloud. He had an uneasy premonition that the horrors were only just beginning.

  2

  Cliff Davenport stared in horror at the scene before him on the seafront at Barmouth. His mouth was dry, sweat tricked down his lean features. Giant crabs the size of cows were clawing their way up the sea wall, a dozen or so with more following them out of the incoming tide.

  An army platoon had arrived, the air was filled with the sound of gunfire along with the clicking of monstrous claws. A couple of bathers had attempted to flee but were pulled down, limbs torn from their bodies, blood spouting.

  An RAF helicopter hovered above, more gunfire but the bullets ricocheted off the huge shells. The leading crabs made it ashore, people were fleeing, parents clutching young children to them as they ran. An elderly man stumbled and fell, becoming the first land victim of the attackers. The clicking of pincers was akin to gunfire answering that of the military defenders.

  Davenport wanted to flee with the rest of the holidaymakers, but his legs refused to move. Now one of the crabs had singled him out and advanced towards him.

  ‘Cliff… Cliff. Wake up. You’re having one of your nightmares again!’

  Hands were shaking him, frantically attempting to bring him back to reality. He thrust the damp bedclothes to one side, kicked them free of his sweat soaked body, stared up into the attractive features of his wife.

  ‘Oh, thank God!’ Sheer relief flooded over him as he sank back on the pillow. Just another nightmare. They had been recurring all too frequently since those terrible days of the crustacean attacks on Barmouth and Shell Island all of forty years ago. Would they never cease and leave him assured of a peaceful night’s sleep?

  ‘That was a bad one,’ Pat Davenport slid off the bed and straightened her nightdress. ‘Try to relax, Cliff, whilst I go downstairs and make a cup of tea.’

  This latest nightmare had been the worst of all, so real just like he had been back there in person witnessing the carnage. He was still shaking. Then an idea filtered in to his somewhat confused brain. He would discuss it with Pat. A successful career as a marine biologist and all forms of undersea life was escalating to a terrifying climax in his retirement.

  Numerous visits to a psychiatrist had done nothing for him. Now he had the germ of an idea for a new approach. Anything was worth trying. Soldiers returning from the horrors of war suffered similar phobias.

  ‘Here you are love,’ Pat placed a hot mug of strong tea on the bedside table and lowered herself into a chair. ‘That really was a bad one, it was almost impossible to shake you awake.’

  ‘Yes,’ he sipped his drink. ‘A very bad one. Psychiatrists are a waste of time, but I’ve had an idea, it came to me just after you woke me.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, I think a holiday would do us both good.’

  ‘I’d love it. We haven’t been away anywhere since you retired. Abroad maybe?’

  ‘No,’ he averted his gaze. ‘I was thinking more of… Barmouth.’

  ‘Oh Christ!’ Her expression was one of shocked surprise. ‘No way, not there. You have frequent nightmares about the place, and it would really bring it all back to you. And me. I never want to see that place again for as long as I live.’

  ‘It’d be different now, all peace and quiet.’

  ‘But the memories would still be there, for both of us.’

  ‘I’m thinking that for us to stay there, see it as a typical Welsh holiday resort, it might wipe away the horror of the crabs.’

  ‘And what about that article in the paper last week, a young girl found killed on the beach by a giant jellyfish? Is that why you want to go back there, Cliff? Hunt some other kind of horrible sea monster?’

  ‘Not at all’, he smiled. ‘I know about them, nothing I could do to help. But I might have a word with Professor Danielson at the Marine Conservation Society if he hasn’t retired yet. I worked with him on a couple of occasions in the past. It would be good to meet up again.’

  ‘Couldn’t we go and stay somewhere else, maybe Brighton or Bournemouth, well away from the past?’

  ‘I think Barmouth might help my crab phobia. Seeing it as it is now might wipe those memories away.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she pursed her lips. ‘But I’d want to book in somewhere completely different. That B&B in Wellington Terrace was great, but it would have reminders for both of us. I suggest a hotel somewhere in the town.’

  ‘That’s fine by me,’ there was no mistaking the relief in his smile. ‘Anyways, I heard that Richard Lloyd is dead, and I doubt that Ruth would have kept the place going on her own. I’ll book us in at a hotel.’

  ‘And preferably one without a sea view,’ she wagged a finger at him.

  They both laughed.

  3

  ‘Good to see you again, Cliff,’ Professor Danielson was slight of build and balding. Cliff had rarely seen him smile, a man devoted to his job and doubtless regretting his forthcoming retirement. ‘The modern generation have no recollection of that crab invasion, just heard a few stories which most of them dismiss as rubbish and that can only be good. Now, though, as you probably know we have a problem with these giant jellyfish moving in to UK waters. There has been a human victim.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘I could use somebody with your experience of marine life.’

  ‘That’s not why I’m here. I don’t want to get involved with any more creatures coming ashore and attacking folks. If I can satisfy my troubled mind that the monster crabs no longer exist then hopefully I will be able to sleep at night without having horrific nightmares.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ A rare smile. ‘Carry on, Cliff. But there are a few changes taking place on Shell Island. Hopefully the former emergency system will be able to continue.’ He explained in detail the proposed emergency procedures. ‘So have a walk around the beach, satisfy your troubled mind that the crabs have gone forever.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Davenport turned towards the door. ‘I’ll keep in touch and pray to God I don’t have anything to report.’

  Dawn was now breaking when Cliff eased himself out of bed and began to dress.

  ‘I wish you weren’t going to walk up the coastline,’ Pat stirred.

  ‘I’m sure it’s absolutely safe,’ he shrugged his jacket on, picked up the ornamental stick which he always used, not that he needed it. It had been carved for him as a Christmas gift by a stick making colleague, the handle a lifelike pheasant’s head. ‘You catch up on some sleep. I’ll be back in time for breakfast.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so.’ She knew only too well that she would not sleep until her husband returned safely. This coastline had some terrible reminders of years ago.

  The beach and the view across to Shell Island looked exactly the same as they had all those yea
rs ago. Davenport stood there taking in the scene. Holiday makers on the Island were up and about. He could not repress a shudder as memories came flooding back. No, apart from a few giant jellyfish there in the sea there was nothing to worry about, he convinced himself. All the same, he was a little uneasy.

  The tide had already turned exposing areas of the shoreline, wet sand that glistened in the early morning sunlight. A couple of small crabs scuttled amongst the rocks. Cliff grimaced at the sight of them. Even though they were of the common variety they had him tensing, they were reminders of their giant relatives.

  ‘But the monsters are gone,’ he spoke aloud just to reassure himself. ‘Gone, gone for good!’

  There was a line of litter left by the tide, waste plastic of all kinds. He grimaced at the sight. Maybe a team of local volunteers would be down later, on a clean-up operation as was happening in many other coastal areas.

  He came to the foot of the cliffs, towering rocks that had withstood a battering by the waves since time immemorial. His route took him beneath them. Shortly he would turn back, breakfast was calling him.

  The walk had had its benefits, though. He felt more relaxed within himself having viewed this seascape which had once held unbelievable horrors. Tomorrow he would walk in the opposite direction, hopefully before the storm which was forecast arrived. The so called weather experts were already issuing red warnings, changing from amber. They reckoned that it would be one of the worst to hit Britain in many years. Well, he and Pat would sit it out in their holiday accommodation.