There were even reports that the last few had resorted to eating the flesh of their dead comrades, before finally succumbing to the blackness of Morfa Mine…
“THAT’S BULLSHIT. YOU made that last bit up, dude.”
Alex Davis had paid good money for a ghost tour of the mines his ancestors used to toil in, but shit, cannibalism was taking things a bit far, even if this was the first tour and the guide wanted to ratchet up the atmosphere a notch to impress his boss. He glared at Joshua, the tour guide who had recounted the grisly tale of Morfa Mine. “There’s absolutely no proof that anyone went around eating their mates, buddy. I mean, I get scaring a customer is part of the whole ‘obbly-woobly’ fuckin’ ghost tour experience BS, little man, but cannibalism? In Wales?” The American snorted.
Joshua Llewellyn-Jones, Jay to his friends, fixed a smile on his face that went no further than the corners of his mouth. The customer’s always right, the customer’s always right… He was acutely aware of the penetrating gaze burning into the back of his neck from Adam Hughes, PR guru for the company that had taken over the old mine and now organized tours for the gullible. The people on this personal tour had paid a pretty hefty premium for the “small group” rate, so it was Jay’s job to make sure they got their money’s worth. Cannibalism seemed like a good idea at the time, so he fronted the American’s challenge.
“I can assure you, sir, it’s not. Bones have been recovered from within the mine that had cut marks on them, cut marks that could only have been made as a starving miner hacked off the flesh with a knife… and ate it.” He grinned, knowing this was total bullshit.
The American’s eyes widened. “Really? Well, shit—” Alex whipped out his camera, taking pictures of anything he could find.
Adam Hughes, publicity executive for Grant Holdings, the new owners of the mine, sidled up to Jay and patted him on the shoulder. “Nice save, Josh. And how did you know about the bones?”
Jay looked at Adam. “I didn’t. I genuinely made that bit up. Well, let’s be honest here, I’m making all of it up, right?”
Adam patted his shoulder again, a strange look on his face not quite disguised by a smile. “Yeah. Whatever you say, fella—”
“Um, guys? We’re getting some seriously weird readings up here.”
Ahead, in the tunnel, a group of four people clustered around a hand-held device that was currently blinking like a set of mini-traffic lights. Bright green LEDs flashed like fireflies in the gloom.
“Christ. What now?” Ewan Jones muttered under his breath. Six foot three, and with muscles that made him look like a prop forward rugby player, Jones was a blue-eyed, cynical ex-squaddie who was finding the adjustment to civvy life tough. Ghost hunters were pretty low down on his list of “people you should respect the fuck out of,” just below Taliban fighters and REME mechanics. The ex-soldier was only on the tour because Adam Hughes didn’t go anywhere without his own personal bodyguard. The company had received threats as soon as they’d taken over the mine to run their ghost tours, and people further up the food chain than Alex had decided to take the threats seriously. Ewan never thought he’d end up doing CPP duties to a PR prick on a haunted mine tour, but hey. Here he was. Anything to earn a living, right?
The gaggle up ahead consisted of three men and one woman. Two of the men, David and Ifan, muttered to one another in Welsh. They were local lads who’d ticket-hopped because they were friends of Jay and the tour needed to make up the numbers.
The final couple was Matt and Louise Williams, ghost hunters extraordinaire and kitted out with all the latest sensors, infrared cameras and sound recording equipment, all packed into two bulky camera bags.
Louise flicked a lock of red hair out of her eyes as her fringe flopped forward. She thrust the flashing piece of equipment towards Jay and grinned. “Waddya think of that?”
Jay shrugged. “Miss, I have no idea what I’m looking at. My guess would be that the bats have set your little flashy bleepy thing off, if I’m honest.”
“Bats?”
“Yeah. Bats. Or, ooh yeah, I didn’t think of that.”
“What? Didn’t think of what? Dude, you’re supposed to be our damn guide down here. What are we looking at? Bats or something else?” Matt’s voice had a tinge of annoyance threading through.
Jay looked down the tunnel and then back at the ghost hunters. “Well, it could be the flock of skeletal canaries that swoop through these tunnels.”
Louise looked at Jay. “Canaries.”
“Yep.”
“Skeletal canaries?”
“Yeah, ya know? Small yellow birds. About yay big.” He held out his hands palm to palm. “They go cheep-cheep a lot—”
Louise bristled. “I know what canaries are, thanks. What would they be doing down here?”
Jay mentally shifted through his tour notes stored in his brain and picked out the one marked Skeletal Canaries. “Miners used canaries to warn them of pockets of explosive gases in the tunnels. Now, they fly around the mine tunnels, forever warning the unwary of the dangers hidden in the darkness. They fear only fire, they feast on flesh. The legend goes, if you hear their warning cry then your blood will boil and burst from your veins.” He added a “Kaboom-splat” hand gesture for emphasis.
“Boiling blood.” Louise pursed her lips.
“Yep.”
“Feasting on flesh.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You are so full of shit, you know that?” Louise glared at Jay. “We’re here to do a serious investigation of one of the most haunted places in Wales, and you’re feeding us bullshit flying skeletal canaries stories? What do you think we are, fucking amateurs?”
“Easy, Lou. The guy’s just doing his job.” Matt laid a hand on Louise’s arm and shook his head. “Listen, fella, let’s keep the tourist ghost stories to a minimum and just focus on the evidence, okay?”
Jay sighed and nodded. “Okay. I won’t bother telling you about the Knockers, then.”
Matt stopped staring at his bleeping, flashing EMF reader and focused on Jay. “The what?”
“The Knockers. The Coblynau. I guess you don’t want to hear about them, right?”
“I would.” Alex flashed a friendly smile at Jay. “Don’t worry about the Scooby gang over there, buddy. Some of us are here to find out more about this place, and that includes its legends. My great great grand-pappy worked this mine.” He paused, and a dark look crossed his face. “Right up to the point that they canned him.”
“Why’d they do that?”
“Because he was a union man.” Alex straightened up a little. “He fought hard to try and get better conditions for the guys down here. So the company accused him of theft and he got deported to the US. Ended up working in the coal mines in Pennsylvania. Died in a cave-in.” Alex paused. “You see? This place is in my heritage, buddy. So you carry on with your stories because us Americans? Yeah, we love all that shit.” He slapped Jay on the shoulder and let out a laugh.
“Our great great grand-pops were probably friends, Yank.” Ewan flashed a smile. “My ancestors worked this mine, too.”
“No way! That’s awesome!” Alex grinned back at Ewan. “We’re probably related somewhere along the line, right?”
“No doubt.” Ewan tried hard not to roll his eyes.