… Jamie.
Well, to give him his full Sunday best, James Michael Renton, but Jamie to his friends.
‘What the hell am I doing here?’ he muttered under his breath. ‘Stuck in the middle of nowhere, sifting through dirt and talking to myself. And I said I’d never do that again.’ His trowel struck an unyielding object, concealed by the earth below and he cursed. With a creak of the knees and a twist of the back he stood upright, surveying the scene.
The old Roman fort at Cadder, a few miles to the north of Glasgow lay before him, the light brown of the ruins contrasting starkly with the freshly turned earth. All around were his fellow students, spending the day assisting the regular staff by painstakingly excavating around the site. It had, of course, been largely uncovered decades earlier but the interest and the finances of the archaeological hierarchy had quickly moved elsewhere when they realised they had uncovered yet another minor fort providing a waypoint to the frontline of the Empire’s penetration into Caledonia. Necessity being the mother of invention, the site’s skeleton staff had enlisted the help of Strathclyde University in securing a never-ending supply of volunteers willing to part with a few hours of their time in exchange for an impressive-sounding entry on their CV.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Jamie adjusted his t-shirt and bent back down over his work. Never in the best of shape, he rued his luck at signing up for the warmest week of the year thus far. May on the west coast was known for many things, but a sub-tropical climate was not one of them.
His attention was drawn back to the mysterious object which had interrupted him. Yet another stone, of course. He began working his way around it, trying to find a handhold to pull it free. Scraping round it with his trowel, he realised that it might not be a stone after all, or if it was it had incredibly even sides.
Edging his fingers underneath, he found sufficient purchase and strained to pull it out. With an audible pop and a brief electrical crackle, the object flew free from the claylike soil, sending Jamie flying onto his back.
A couple of nearby students looked up and laughed as Jamie lay sprawled on the earth, slightly dazed. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but the sound of laughter seemed familiar enough. Just as he started to sit up the laughter stopped, replaced by urgent shouts. Jamie looked towards the sounds and saw the majority of his group gathering at the other side of the site. Absently pocketing the object, he gingerly made his way over to the group. One of the regular staff had keeled over and was receiving some first aid.
‘It’s just the heat.’ suggested one of the supervisors, glancing at her watch. ‘You’re not used to it, we’re not used to it. It’s getting near the end of the day, so head off and we’ll see you tomorrow.’
The majority of the students headed to collect their tools and leave. Realising that he was holding his, Jamie deposited them and left the site, heading back to the city.
****
An hour later, he arrived at the front door of his flat. He paused at the door, listening. Silence. Putting his key in the lock, he entered. The place seemed deserted. His flatmates were probably down at the pub. The kitchen was its usual mess. Investigating the pots on the cooker, Jamie sighed when the aroma of chicken greeted him. He’d been vegetarian for years.
He wandered through to his room. The curtains were still drawn from that morning. He opened them, looked out at the grey wall of the adjacent building. He opened the window to allow some air to circulate. Turning on some music, he saw a note on his desk. It consisted of 3 words. ‘Jamie. Football. Tonight.’
The five occupants of the flat were engaged in an irregular tournament with the inhabitants of another student house in the area. This was not good. Jamie’s flat had lost the past eight games, and had lost them all convincingly. The team tended only to call upon him if they were short in numbers, as his lack of skill and ball control were legendary.
With a sigh, he began changing into a pair of shorts, to join in the match. Removing his jeans, he felt an unfamiliar object in the pocket. Taking it out, he realised that it was the mystery object from the dig. It looked like a mud encrusted box. Already late for the match, Jamie left the box next to his bed and ran out the door.
The rest of the evening was something of a blur. He recalled arriving to find his team three goals down and conceding a fourth shortly after he joined the fray. His jaw recalled numerous blows from the elbow of his opposing number, Dave, jostling past him. He recalled Dave’s team gathering round him, celebrating. Twice. Three times. He’d scored regularly during the game, largely because Jamie was unable to stop him.
Jamie recalled the silence on the journey home. The chill. The contempt with which his house mates, his friends, held him.
Exhausted, he fell into bed, and fell into a restless sleep. He awoke several times during the night, the same sequence of sounds and images screaming at the front of his mind; he was walking forward in the dark, but he was not alone. A guttural roar assaulted his ears and despite himself he moved towards it. Through the gloom he could make out a massive shape several feet away. It appeared to be trapped in a cell and was pacing back and forth. Suddenly, as if sensing Jamie, The Beast would pause, glance up and sniff the air, allowing Jamie a clearer look at it. It then, screamed its’ dominance again and returned to pacing, occasionally attempting to force the bars.
As he lay in bed, dreading the return of sleep, Jamie played the images over and over in his mind. He recalled the sensation of being underground, the dimly lit cavern, the gleam of the bars of the gaol (cage?) and the ferocious noise, but the form of The Beast eluded him. He had a vague memory of a massive shape, clearly powerful enough to contemplate bending bars, and a head crowned with a shaggy mane which flowed behind as the creature paced, but all else which had seemed so clear became fleeting as consciousness once more took hold.
The box remained by his bedside.