Tunnels of love

"No, don’t! It’s not allowed."

Lucy spluttered as she spoke, half giggling, shifting from foot to foot in her nervous excitement. With all three of them standing on the tiny space at the rear of the boat, it looked as if she would fall off at any moment.

"Well we're not allowed to cruise at night either..." said Greg, deadpan as ever, as he continued to steer. His arm rested on the tiller, relaxed, like he'd being doing this for years.

"Won't they have locked the entrance or something?" asked Rob, in a voice that sounded more sober than he was.

"We'll soon find out," was all Greg said in reply.

"I gotta piss," said Lucy as she disappeared down into the cheering light of the narrowboat's interior.

The boat continued to chug its way forward under the urgings of the single diesel engine and guided by Greg's expert hand. They were heading for Harecastle Tunnel in Staffordshire, which indeed had a barrier against night-time use, prohibited by the British Waterways Board. Even during daytime, passage through the tunnel was strictly controlled. Seven feet at its widest, there was no room for boats going in opposite directions to pass anywhere along its length. The tunnel keepers marshalled boats into groups which had to wait for the opposing group to complete passage before they could leave in convoy.

They had known each other since High School: three friends growing up together, but Lucy and Greg had grown closer. Closer still, until they became first an item and then eventually marrying, with Rob as their best man. That was a year ago. At first, Rob stayed away, giving them some space and time to settle into their married life. Then they both started to miss their pal and so made a point of going out as a threesome from time to time.

A week's quiet cruise on a canal boat

The Autumn break was Greg's idea with Lucy and Rob both readily agreeing. A week's quiet cruise on the Trent and Mersey Canal, which ran through the sweeping Staffordshire countryside, was just what the three of them needed to get to know each other all over again.

Lucy re-emerged as the boat rounded the final bend before the tunnel entrance. Greg reached past the cabin entrance and switched the headlamp off at the panel.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucy, taking a sharp breath.

"Don't want to alert the sheriff," said Greg, knowing that the engine noise would attract attention in any case. There was just about enough moonlight to steer the boat.

Rob tipped his head back, half emptying the pint pot in his hand.

"You sure you don't want any, mate?" He said after swallowing hard.

"Not now, thanks Rob. I wouldn't mind a slug of that whisky though, if you have any left... warm me up a bit." There was a chill wind in the air. Rob fished the hip flask out of his pocket and handed it over, having unscrewed the top for his friend.

"Thanks," was all Greg said, as he handed the flask back, having taken a generous slug, more for Dutch courage than to keep him warm. The rasp of the spirit at the back of his throat certainly steeled his nerve and determination.

His heart racing, he pushed the throttle lever fully forward, propelling the boat at a faster pace, raising an unseen bow wave which, supporting the bows of the boat a little, reducing the drag, allowed the vessel to move faster through the water.

The figure was waving frantically

As they pulsed forward, a dark figure emerged from the tunnel-keeper's cottage above the cutting to the side of the tunnel entrance. The figure was waving frantically with both arms crossing over in front of the face, desperately trying to signal to the boat to stop. They were heading for a collision.

Faster and faster the boat moved, as Rob and Lucy looked up at Rob, seeing that he was determined on his course. None of them knew what would happen but, at this point, there was no turning back.

As the boat hit the wooden barrier there was a fearful CRACK! But the momentum carried them through into the gloom of the tunnel's entrance. Lucy gave a shudder as the narrow vessel slipped easily on through, penetrating the greater darkness inside. Greg throttled back, slowing the craft to a gentle glide through the water, the cushion provided by the wake from the bow more or less keeping them in a straight line. He switched the headlamp back on. Greg stood at the tiller like a sentinel, with nobody challenging his role as steersman.

As the immediate tension passed, so they all let out a great burst of laughter.

"You fucking maniac," was all Rob said, in obvious admiration. Lucy was a in a fit of giggles now.

"We are going to be in sooo much trouble..." said Lucy, once she had managed to stop laughing.

Greg chuckled. "What can they do to us... Bang us up in the lock keeper's dungeon?"

The tunnel was over a mile and a half long. It would take around 30 minutes to navigate. As the boat pulsed on through, all was dark except the halo made by the headlamp beyond the front of the boat and the light shining out from the interior. Nothing could be seen any distance in front of them and the small arch of half light in the distance behind was fast diminishing.

The main sound was the throb-throb-throb of the engine and its echo from the irregular walls. There was no towpath. It had been removed decades before to provide more room for navigation and ventilation.

All were in silent awe, listening to the sounds of the engine and the rushing, sloshing and dripping of water. There was a cloying atmosphere and smell of dampness and they kept finding themselves wetted by a dripping from the tunnel roof.

"This is too creepy," said Lucy and she dipped her head, stepping down into the rear cabin. Both the men stayed out, Greg steering, Rob staring ahead at the black wall of nothing beyond the boat. Water dripped or ran down on them somewhere from the inky-black above.

"I'm getting a bit wet here," said Rob. "D'ya mind if I go in?"

"You go ahead, I'm fine out here. It'll be another 25 minutes before we are through."

Rob strode on through the interior of the boat, passing the galley and the sleeping cabins, towards the front of the craft. As he stepped into the main cabin at the far end, a hand grabbed his damp sweater, pulling him down onto the low divan, squeezed into the side of the boat beside the tiny dining table.

"Oh... no!" he gasped, trying to extricate himself from Lucy's arms. "No way."

"Yes way!," came the wicked reply as Lucy fumbled with his and her own clothing.

"He'll hear us..."

"No, he won't... and right now... I need you inside me."

"You are such a slut...."

"And you aren't?"

Standing at the footplate, doors to the cabin closed to keep out the now intermittent fall of water, Greg could hear nothing but the throb-throb-throb of the engine beneath him, and the rushing of water.

He still grimaced at the thought of what the two people he loved the most were now doing. He'd known about it from the start. The double betrayal felt like a javelin driving through his heart.

Dirty little secret

"They think they are so clever," he told himself with quiet menace. "Their dirty little secret. They must think I'm stupid."

After the wave of untrammelled lust had washed over them, Lucy and Rob tried their best to compose themselves, heartbeats slowing, sweat cooling the fiery heat of their flesh.

As Rob stood, straightening his clothing, there was a sudden lurch of the deck beneath his feet and a terrifying, rending CRASH!

Thrown forward onto his face, as the lights inside and the boat's headlight were all killed. He gasped in pain, his head hitting something hard. Lucy shrieked.

The darkness was total, complete and overpowering. Half-way through the tunnel, there was no light from outside and all of the interior lights were now out.

"What the fuck was that?" shrieked Lucy.

Rob just groaned.

"Greg! Go check on Greg."

"What about me....." He didn't finish the sentence but scrambled on his hands and knees, head throbbing, trying to find his way to the back of the boat in the utter, desolate, damnable darkness.

"Greg! Greg! Are you okay?"

Nothing.

"Go check on him!"

It took a while for Rob to feel his way along the full length of the boat. All manner of unseen detritus lay scattered over the now sloping deck. About halfway through, he felt cold and clammy wetness on his hands and lower legs, and was soon splashing in the few inches of water sloshing over the deck.

halfway through, he felt cold and clammy wetness

As he reached what he thought was the galley he raised himself up onto his feet, trying to locate the flashlight that had been left on the work surface. It had of course fallen off with all of the eggs and other food that had been stacked there. Fumbling in the invisible water covering the deck, he was unable to find it.

All the while, he and Lucy kept calling out to Greg, but with no response. Rob was starting to tremble, partly from the wet cold, partly in shock, and partly from the guilty fear that Greg was somehow going to pounce out on him from nowhere. Lucy had stopped calling out and he could now hear her sobbing uncontrollably amid fits of rapid gasping.

Shoving the rear cabin doors open, Rob couldn't see a thing. He was blind to all inside and out. He could hear nothing except falling water, and the turbulence caused by the crash. Emerging onto the footplate on his hands and knees, he fumbled for the cigarette lighter in his pocket.

"What's happening? Is he alright?.... Greg! Greg, darling, are you okay?" Lucy was shouting through the boat but stayed put, fearful of the darkness like no darkness she had ever seen... or not seen. There wasn't the slightest glimmer to provide even the hint of illumination. The world around them was a relentless, ravenous black, swallowing anything that might otherwise have been visible.

Rob leaned out over the back of the boat, striking the wheel of the cigarette lighter. As a tiny flame caught he could see a small oval of light reflected from the murky water below. Straining to see further back, there was no sign of his friend. He held onto the column of the tiller.

As he leant over the rope fender at the end of the boat with the lighter, he could just see the hazy form of what appeared to be something hanging from the deck. Adjusting his focus, he brought the flame closer, realising that it was a hand there, with a shadowy arm, head and shoulders attached. He gave a start.

"Greg..."

The exclamation was still-born as a second hand shot up from below, grabbing Rob by the top of his sweater....

At the other end of the boat Lucy, now stumbling her way to the rear, stopped in her tracks. She heard the brief "Greg..." before a loud and deathly SPLASH! She froze. not sure what to do, rooted to the spot, straining, blinking her eyes, desperate to see what could not be seen. The darkness was like a solid wall in front of her eyes. She moved her arms in front of her face, trying beyond effort, as if she would be able to see what was in front of them with her finger tips.

"Rob... Greg... " she almost whispered, heart palpitating, as the sound of the splashing water subsided, a gentle drip.. drip.. dripping from outside, a gentle lapping of water from inside. She felt as if she was in a solid steel box, black and unforgiving in its darkness.

The darkness was complete. The boat fell still.

Nobody answered.

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Image above: Harecastle tunnel entrance today: management photo.

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COMING SOON: Chapter TWO... watch this space!!!

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This story was inspired, not by a work of art, but by the song "drop the pilot" by Joan Armatrading. I was thinking that, with the deadline looming, I had come up with nothing, and then the song popped into my head. I was going to use this as the title but didn't want to give any clues as to the ending of the story.