torch,” he told me. “There’s one in the boot of the car. Be a good egg and get it for me, would you?” He shoved his hand into his jacket and withdrew the keys. “Here, you’ll need these.”
I grabbed them and climbed back up to the car, found the flashlight, and slammed the lid of the trunk. Just as I turned from the car, I glimpsed a flash of white out of the corner of my eye—as if something had dashed across the narrow road behind and disappeared into the brush on the other side. I watched for a moment, but saw nothing more, and made my way down to the cairn once more.
I returned to find that, in my absence, Simon had cleared away some of the brush and enlarged the opening of the mound somewhat. “Here you go, sport.” I gave him the flashlight. “Knock yourself out.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“Not on your Nelly,” I told him.
Simon doffed his driving cap. “Take this. I don’t want to get it filthy.”
I took the hat and put it on. “Be careful, okay? There could be a badger in there.”
“I’ll give you a yell if I bump into anything.” He crawled into the brush and pushed himself into the opening in the mound, where he squirmed for a few moments. Then, with a last kick of his legs, he slid in.
I did not hear anything from him for a few moments.
“Simon? Are you all right?”
From inside the mound I heard him say, “Fine. Fine. It’s dry in here. I, uh . . . I think I can stand up. Yes.”
“What do you see?” I hollered. No reply. “I said—What do you see?”
“It’s smooth—well, fairly smooth anyway,” he answered. His voice sounded as if it were coming from inside a sofa. “Some of the stones look as if they have some sort of mar . . .”
“Markings?” I yelled. “Did you say markings?”
“Yes . . . ,” came his reply. “Blue ones . . . mazes and hands . . . and . . .”
I waited. “Simon?”
No answer. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled to the entrance of the cairn. “Simon? What else do you see?”
I heard a low grating sound from inside the cairn—a sound like that of a stone being slowly pried from a wall.
“Simon?” I called. “Do you hear me? What are you doing?”
The strange sound continued. Over it, I heard Simon cry, “Blimey!”
“Simon!” I shouted back. “What’s going on?”
A second later, Simon’s head appeared in the hole. His face blazed with excitement. “Something’s happening. It’s incredible! Simply fantastic!” He disappeared again.
“Wait! Hold on—What’s happening? Simon!”
His face bobbed into view once more, wide-eyed and breathless. “I don’t believe it!” he said, shoving his jacket out through the hole to me. “It’s bloody incredible, Lewis. It’s paradise! I can’t tell you. You’ve just got to see it. Come on! Come with me!”
“No! Wait!” I shouted desperately. “What is it? What’s incredible? Simon, where are you going?”
“I’m going in,” came his muffled reply. “Come with me!”
Those were Simon’s last words.
6
T HE B IG J OKE
I must have waited a good ten minutes—it seemed like as many hours—before I worked up nerve enough to go after Simon. I waited and listened, and every thirty seconds or so I’d call his name. I sat with my head near the hole, but I didn’t hear a sound.
Tentatively, I pushed through the brush and stuck my head into the cairn. Pitch-dark, as I expected. I could see nothing. Thinking that perhaps my eyes would get used to the darkness, I lay down and wriggled, kicking myself through the opening as I had seen Simon do.
As Simon had indicated, the place was dry, and, to my surprise, a good deal warmer than the air outside. It smelled of must and mildew, like a cave. I sat hunched near the entrance and waited for my eyes to adjust. Even when they did, I could not see my hand in front of my face.
Still, I did not need to see to know that Simon was no longer there.
“Simon?” I called. My voice filled the stone
I grabbed them and climbed back up to the car, found the flashlight, and slammed the lid of the trunk. Just as I turned from the car, I glimpsed a flash of white out of the corner of my eye—as if something had dashed across the narrow road behind and disappeared into the brush on the other side. I watched for a moment, but saw nothing more, and made my way down to the cairn once more.
I returned to find that, in my absence, Simon had cleared away some of the brush and enlarged the opening of the mound somewhat. “Here you go, sport.” I gave him the flashlight. “Knock yourself out.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“Not on your Nelly,” I told him.
Simon doffed his driving cap. “Take this. I don’t want to get it filthy.”
I took the hat and put it on. “Be careful, okay? There could be a badger in there.”
“I’ll give you a yell if I bump into anything.” He crawled into the brush and pushed himself into the opening in the mound, where he squirmed for a few moments. Then, with a last kick of his legs, he slid in.
I did not hear anything from him for a few moments.
“Simon? Are you all right?”
From inside the mound I heard him say, “Fine. Fine. It’s dry in here. I, uh . . . I think I can stand up. Yes.”
“What do you see?” I hollered. No reply. “I said—What do you see?”
“It’s smooth—well, fairly smooth anyway,” he answered. His voice sounded as if it were coming from inside a sofa. “Some of the stones look as if they have some sort of mar . . .”
“Markings?” I yelled. “Did you say markings?”
“Yes . . . ,” came his reply. “Blue ones . . . mazes and hands . . . and . . .”
I waited. “Simon?”
No answer. I got down on my hands and knees and crawled to the entrance of the cairn. “Simon? What else do you see?”
I heard a low grating sound from inside the cairn—a sound like that of a stone being slowly pried from a wall.
“Simon?” I called. “Do you hear me? What are you doing?”
The strange sound continued. Over it, I heard Simon cry, “Blimey!”
“Simon!” I shouted back. “What’s going on?”
A second later, Simon’s head appeared in the hole. His face blazed with excitement. “Something’s happening. It’s incredible! Simply fantastic!” He disappeared again.
“Wait! Hold on—What’s happening? Simon!”
His face bobbed into view once more, wide-eyed and breathless. “I don’t believe it!” he said, shoving his jacket out through the hole to me. “It’s bloody incredible, Lewis. It’s paradise! I can’t tell you. You’ve just got to see it. Come on! Come with me!”
“No! Wait!” I shouted desperately. “What is it? What’s incredible? Simon, where are you going?”
“I’m going in,” came his muffled reply. “Come with me!”
Those were Simon’s last words.
6
T HE B IG J OKE
I must have waited a good ten minutes—it seemed like as many hours—before I worked up nerve enough to go after Simon. I waited and listened, and every thirty seconds or so I’d call his name. I sat with my head near the hole, but I didn’t hear a sound.
Tentatively, I pushed through the brush and stuck my head into the cairn. Pitch-dark, as I expected. I could see nothing. Thinking that perhaps my eyes would get used to the darkness, I lay down and wriggled, kicking myself through the opening as I had seen Simon do.
As Simon had indicated, the place was dry, and, to my surprise, a good deal warmer than the air outside. It smelled of must and mildew, like a cave. I sat hunched near the entrance and waited for my eyes to adjust. Even when they did, I could not see my hand in front of my face.
Still, I did not need to see to know that Simon was no longer there.
“Simon?” I called. My voice filled the stone
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