Free Blood Beast by Darren Shan Page B

this over to someone who knows what they’re doing. Chemicals. . . that’s out of our league.”
    “No way!” Bill-E protests. “We’re close, I know it. You can’t back out now. That would be real craziness.”
    “But —” Loch begins.
    “There might not be any chemicals,” Bill-E interrupts. “Maybe we’re just tired and edgy. It’s been a long day, we’re hungry, we’ve been working hard, it’s late. . . . Combine all those things and you get three soreheaded bears.”
    “It was more than grumpiness,” Loch says.
    “Probably,” Bill-E agrees. “But let’s say there
are
chemicals down there. It’s been so long since they were planted, their strength must have dwindled by now. I bet, if we’d dug fifty years ago, they would have blinded or killed us. Now all they can do is make our hackles rise. We should take a short break, clear our heads, then get back to work. If we find ourselves getting short-tempered again, we come up for another rest.”
    “I’m not sure,” I mutter. If we were alone, I’d tell Bill-E about my fears — that this place is part of the world of magic. I’m sure he’d take more notice of my warnings then. But I can’t speak about such things in front of Loch. “Why don’t we leave it alone for today? It’s getting late. Let’s go home and sleep on it.”
    “Not yet,” Bill-E pleads. “Give it until dusk, like we planned. Since we’re here, we might as well make the most of the daylight.”
    “Spleenio’s right,” Loch says. Now that the influence of the hole has passed, he’s his old self again, intent on getting his hands on the treasure, quickly forgetting his fears. “Let’s do what we came to, then go home and relax. It might be weeks before we dig all the way to the bottom. We can’t get cold feet every time we run into an obstacle.”
    I don’t like it, but their minds are set, so after a short break, we pick up our tools and edge down into the hole again.
    We remove one of the biggest rocks yet and haul it to the top. Standing by the edge of the hole. Sweating, shaking, flexing our fingers. “This is torture,” Loch groans.
    “Think the treasure will be worth it?” I ask.
    “It better be.”
    “What if there’s nothing there, if it’s just a hole?”
    Loch smiles. “It isn’t. We’re on to something big. I can feel it in my bones.”
    “You’re just feeling what you want to feel.”
    Loch scowls. “Stop being such a —”
    Bill-E screams.
    Loch and I bolt down the hole. We find Bill-E submerged in earth up to his waist, clinging to the rocks around him, face bright with terror. “There’s nothing underneath!” he shouts. “My legs are dangling! I’m going to fall! I’m going to fall! I’m going to —”
    I grab his right hand. Loch grabs his left.
    “We won’t drop you!” I yell.
    “Not unless you give us reason to,” Loch jokes.
    “I was digging.” Bill-E gasps, fingernails gouging my flesh. “Rooting up stones. The floor gave way. My shovel fell. I heard it clanging all the way down — a
long
way. I thought. . . I dropped this far. . . I managed to grab the edge. If I hadn’t . . .” He starts to cry.
    “Look at the chubster.” Loch howls with delight. “Boohooing like a baby!”
    “Can’t you shut up just once in your stupid bloody life!” I roar — then catch myself. “The chemicals,” I hiss. “Loch. . . Bill-E. . . take it easy. No outbursts. No insults. Relax. Think nice thoughts. Tell me when you feel normal.”
    “How can I be normal when I’m stuck down a —” Bill-E shrieks.
    “Nice thoughts,” I interrupt sternly, sensing the throbbing again, coming from the rocks around us. “Loch — you thinking nice things?”
    “Yeah.” Loch grins. “I’m imagining the baby’s howls if we let him drop.”
    “Loch!”
    “OK,” he grumbles, and shuts his eyes. After a few seconds his expression clears. He opens his eyes and nods to show he’s in control. Bill-E is less composed, but that’s