Hot Sweet Milk And Hallucinations

Albertine can't see a thing.

But she can feel Arthur. His wet bloody knees, from which slivers of glass are protruding.

Watch out, says Arthur, (a bit late though).

Keep still, says Albertine. Now I know you said not to bring anything.

For a reason, says Arthur.

And what was the reason? asks Albertine. Might it be overridden by your glass cuts?

How delicately she puts it.

I wouldn't object if you soaked up the blood with something, says Arthur.

A scarf? says Albertine, pulling it out from her knickers.

It has taken exactly this long for Proust to burn his way down the rope, and now he has landed.

He hears Albertine's voice saying 'a scarf'. He hears the soft rasp of material, and a dabbing sound, followed by a loud yelp from Arthur.

Yeouch!

Sorry, says Albertine. I know you said no torches.....but it would be helpful if I could see.

She takes her iphone from her travelling skirt pocket. Turns it on. A pale light illumines the underground passage, and Arthur, and Arthur's cut knees.

She commences to draw the glass slivers from his cuts with her bare fingers.

Proust feels somewhat redundant.

But at least he can see.

He looks around at the underground passage, which is just as he had imagined when lying under his duvet, after drinking hot sweetened milk at bed time, before finally falling asleep.

Claustrophobic. Smelly. Ochre clay, limestone walls.

Dreadful. And his hands sting.

Rrrrip!

Now she is tearing the scarf in two pieces.

Rrrrip! And one piece down the middle.

Now she is tying a strip around each bleeding knee.

Proust wishes .....no....he doesn't.....that would mean he would be bleeding.....

Bzzz. Her phone is vibrating.

A message.

Quickly Albertine turns her phone off. Pitch dark floods the cavern.

Arthur stands up. At least it sounds like that's what he is doing.

Proust clutches Albertine's arm.

What? says Albertine.

Don't be afraid, says Proust. I'm right behind you.

Cool, says Albertine. Now, Arthur might think this is cheating, but we all saw the entrance. We turn left. You go first, Arthur.

He was going to. Arthur makes a sour face under cover of darkness.

He feels his way along the limestone wall until he touches something that writhes under his fingers. And bites one of his thumbs.

Arthur sucks it. He may be sucking out a hallucinogenic poison. He may be sorry.

Proust too has felt his way down the wall and touched something wriggly.

To take his mind off the horrible situation, he says loudly.

Don't be afraid, Albertine.

He feels for the mechanical arm, which he has concealed down the back of his trousers.

He plans to surprise Albertine.

But she has heard Arthur ranting incoherently ahead and is forging her way up the passage.

And now it's quiet.... but wait...

....is that a crunching sound somewhere behind him?