Blood Beast by Darren Shan

understandable, given the situation he’s in.
    “You need to talk to us,” I tell him. “We’re going to pull you out, but we don’t want to hurt you. Are there any stones jabbing you, sticks, wire. . . anything that might cut into you if we pull you out quickly?”
    “I don’t think so.” Bill-E sobs. “But it’s hard to tell. I don’t know.”
    “Relax,” I soothe. “You’re safe. We have you. Now concentrate and let us know how we can help you out of this mess with the least amount of discomfort.”
    Bill-E focuses and moves slightly, exploring the unseen territory around his legs. Finally he gulps and says, “I think it’s safe to pull.”
    “Great.” I smile falsely. “Loch — you ready?” He grunts. “We’ll take it easy to begin with. Act on my command. Pull softly when I say. Stop if I give the order. Understand?”
    “Whatever,” he shrugs.
    I’d like to wipe my palms dry but I don’t think Bill-E would hang there patiently if I released him. So, gripping tighter, glad of the dirt on my skin that counteracts the sweat, I give Loch the nod and we tug. Resistance, but not for very long. Soon Bill-E’s sliding out of the hole within the hole, trembling wildly but otherwise unharmed. When his feet are clear, we give one last yank and he sprawls on top of us, knocking us to the ground, where we lie, panting and laughing weakly.
    After about a minute, without discussing it, we get up and crawl forward, eager to check out the hole that Bill-E has uncovered. It’s a black chasm. Impossible to see very far down it. The light’s too bad.
    “Wait here,” Bill-E says, scrambling up to the surface. He returns quickly, a baseball cap on his head, two small flash-lights strapped to either side. “Spent half an hour last night fixing this up,” he says proudly, then holds up a bigger, stronger flashlight. “I brought this too. Been lugging it around all day. Just in case.”
    “Spleen, you’re a genius,” Loch says, and Bill-E smiles. “A fat, deformed simpleton, but also a genius,” he adds, and Bill-E’s smile turns to a scowl.
    “Why don’t you take one of the lights off the hat?” I suggest. “Then we can each have one.”
    “No,” Bill-E says. “They’re not powerful enough by themselves. You need the two together for them to be worth anything.” He brushes by us, justifiably smug, taking temporary leadership. He crouches by the edge of the hole he made and flicks on the strong flashlight. Loch and I crouch by him and stare. The hole continues down as far as we can see, at a slight angle, lots of little stones jutting out of the main rock face, plenty of niches for hands and feet.
    “Hell,” Loch gasps. “It’s massive.”
    “There’s no way Lord Sheftree could have dug this,” Bill-E notes. “He might have widened the entrance to make it easier to get to this point, but the rest of it’s natural.”
    “How far down do you think it runs?” I ask.
    “Only one way to find out.” Bill-E grins.
    “You’ve got to be joking!” Loch snorts.
    “What?” Bill-E frowns. “You’re not coming with me?”
    “We can’t go down there,” I mutter, taking Loch’s side. “Not without good climbing boots, ropes, those metal pegs with the loops that climbers use. . . all that sort of gear.”
    “It doesn’t look so difficult,” Bill-E argues. “I say we try it and go as far as we can. If we run into difficulties, we’ll come back later with climbing equipment.”
    “Why risk it?” I press. “Let’s wait until the weekend, stock up, then —”
    “You ever used any of that stuff before?” Loch asks. “Boots, ropes, and so on?”
    “Well, no, but —”
    “Me neither,” he interrupts. “Spleenio?” Bill-E shakes his head. “If we’re going to do that, we need to practice,” Loch says slowly.
    “So we practice. It means a delay, but —”
    “What if someone comes along in the meanwhile, finds this, and claims it for their own?” Loch cuts in.
    I glare