Roman Ice

by Dave Bartell

“Hi, Darwin,” said Eyrún, smiling. Her snow white jacket magnified her blue eyes.

  “Hi, nice to see you again.” Darwin kissed her on each cheek.

  “You’re sweet. Nice to see you too. And you must be Zac,” she said.

  “That’s me. Pleased to meet you, Eyrún. Sorry I don’t do the kissing thing,” said Zac, shaking her hand.

  They shook hands all around and sat down. “Thanks for coming, guys. Beers?” said Ian.

  “Yeah, thanks. I thought it was supposed to be summer here,” said Zac, rubbing his arms to warm up.

  “It is, but you’re as far north as your state of Alaska,” said Eyrún.

  “Shall we get to it?” said Darwin, setting down his beer glass.

  “So much for introductions,” said Ian.

  “We’re not here for a friendly chat. This whole thing is becoming a giant cock-up. Ian says he has an idea. Let’s hear it,” said Darwin.

  “Don’t be such a jerk, Darwin. You’ve been acting like this is your find since you got here,” said Eyrún.

  “Easy you two,” said Zac, glancing from one to the other.

  “Zac’s right. Chill,” said Ian. “We’ll not get anywhere by arguing. Hell, that’s what the bureaucrats are doing.”

  “None of us can do this alone, Darwin. It’s too big. We need to work together,” said Eyrún.

  “Don’t worry. He’s with us. His family’s been looking for these tubes for a couple centuries. It’s personal,” said Zac.

  “It’s personal for all of us,” said Eyrún.

  “I know that,” said Darwin, “but I also know what it’s like to run into people without enough imagination. This lava tube could rewrite history.”

  People sitting at the next table looked at them as Darwin’s voice grew in volume. Zac motioned for him to speak more softly. “Sorry,” Darwin mumbled. He looked down and aligned the items on the table. Why is she attacking me? She liked the idea the other night at dinner. He took a quick breath and continued. “I’m not as socially gifted as Zac. I want to get going before the government makes it impossible. Apologies for being blunt.”

  “No worries, bru. Anyways, it’s Eyrún’s idea,” said Ian.

  “Cool,” said Zac, and they all looked at her.

  “Simple,” she said. “We go in the tube. Just us. Before the university and government get in the way. If we time it right, we’ll be days out before anyone knows.”

  “What about your company, Stjörnu?” asked Darwin.

  “We’ll get no help from them. They’re tied to the politics and can’t operate without the government,” said Eyrún.

  Ian unfolded a piece of paper while Zac grabbed the pitcher of beer and dried off the table. When Ian spread out the paper, they looked at the crude drawing of the dig site on one side of the paper and the lave tube moving across the page. Descriptions with arrows pointed to sections of the drawing.

  Eyrún slid her finger across the drawing. “This represents about a hundred kilometers of the tube beginning at the dig. We’ll enter early morning and go hard the first days to make maximum progress. If we start on a weekend, we can get several days’ head start before anyone finds out.”

  “The tube is flat, and we should able to move fast, even with loaded trailers,” said Zac.

  “Darwin, what do you know about this tube? I think it’s time to share what’s in the scroll,” said Eyrún.

  Zac nodded his agreement. Darwin glanced about the room and leaned in, elbows on table. The others followed.

  “About one hundred fifty years ago, my forebears found a brass-covered box near Mount Vesuvius that contained scrolls and other artifacts. The scrolls documented what looks like a network of lava tubes across Europe. In addition, there are letters from officials in Rome and a couple that appear to be from Emperor Nero,” said Darwin, and he related an abbreviated version of Emelio publishing the article, hoping to collaborate.

  “He was ridiculed, but it led to correspondence with a lady in Clermont-Ferrand France who read the article and wrote that her grandfather explored lava tubes near the city in the mid-1800s. Unfortunately, she never wanted to send the documents or meet with him. That became a dead-end when, about twenty years ago, he received a package from London that contained a scroll found in the 1930s. Turns out the scroll was written by a guy named Agrippa, and I’m sure it’s the same guy who wrote his name on the tube wall here. He’s also the author of some of the scrolls we found near Vesuvius. In short, the London scroll details journeys around Europa, including mining assessments and military movements. The only problem was that we could only determine vague ideas of any of the tube entrances.

  “After years of promising, the lady in France wrote my grandfather last month that she would share her grandfather’s notebook. He was a research assistant to Georges Scrope, one of the early volcanologists.”

  “I’ve read Scrope’s work. Advanced for the time,” said Eyrún.

  “Well, to fast-forward, I finished my semester at Berkeley and got on a flight to France. The notebook directed me to a lava tube very much like the one here—enormous and smooth walled.” Darwin showed them his iPad. Eyrún swiped through the photos. “That looks a block wall. What’s this?” Eyrún pointed to a vertical dark line in the wall.

  “It’s an arrow slit. Classic castle defense system,” said Darwin.

  “Why would they need that?”

  “Best I can tell, it’s to keep people from breaking down the wall. I’m guessing the walls inside the tube were put up during the Crusades. Look at this.” He scrolled to the photo of the graffiti left by Estienne, Piers, and Jehan.

  “MXCV. M is one-thousand… X… ten… C—”

  “Ten-ninety-five,” said Darwin.

  “Deus Vult. What does that mean?” asked Ian.

  “God wills it,” said Darwin. “This was from the year of the First Crusade, which started in Clermont-Ferrand.” They were silent. Darwin let them each ponder the thousand-year-old rallying cry, figuring the story might need a little while to sink in.

  “Can’t we knock down the walls and find out where it goes?” asked Ian.

  “No,” said Darwin. “I swore not to disclose the location. All I can say is, it’s a sacred site. I have someone helping me get official access, but that might take years.”

  “What does this have to do with Romans?” asked Eyrún.

  Darwin swiped to the next photo.

  “There was also this mark.”

  “Is that the same symbol as we found here?” asked Eyrún.

  “Yes. It’s called an Aquila, or eagle. Agrippa describes it as the marker for a tube entrances. They guarded these at all times and used the coins used as tokens for entry.”

  “But how do you know these tubes connect? I get that the tube in Iceland might connect to Scotland, but you’re saying it also connects to France?” Ian asked.

  “That’s what my family has been trying to find out,” said Darwin. “The package from London also contained coins identical to the ones found in the dig here and a large uncut diamond. I also know of another tunnel in London where someone found a coin,” he finished.

  “But Iceland to London?” asked Ian.

  “I know it’s crazy, far-fetched, but Agrippa wrote that they travelled ‘many days underground’ to ‘a land of fire and ice’,” said Darwin.

  “And the diamonds?” Eyrún asked.

  “They came from somewhere in the tube. Agrippa describes a ‘stellata camera’, or diamond chamber. There are just too many coincidences—the coins, the scrolls, the Aquilas—for the lava tubes not to connect. Think how this could change our view of Roman history. Diamonds aside, imagine what else the Romans might have hidden,” said Darwin.

  43

  “That’s her,” said Eyrún, pointing to a petite woman with curly auburn hair pulled in a ponytail. The third morning after the pub meeting, she and Pétur went to pick up Stevie the airport.

  “Bonjour! You look great,” Stevie told Eyrún as th
ey exchanged kisses and a hug.

  “You too! Thanks. It’s so good to see you,” said Eyrún. She stood back and added, “This is my friend Pétur.”

  “Enchanté,” said Pétur, kissing her on each cheek. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All of it is true!” she laughed.

  Pétur drove while Eyrún brought Stevie up to speed on the discovery and plans. It took less than twenty-five minutes to reach their destination, an industrial condo on the outskirts of Reykjavík that Ian had rented. He said they needed a space to lay out the gear away from people who might interfere, like the University or government people. The condos were divided into sections of three football field length buildings spaced over a hectare of land. Each condo had a small door for people and a large mechanical roll-up door.

  “It’s number eleven,” said Eyrún in answer to Pétur’s question. He pulled up to a middle unit and parked in front of a door with a small black “11” painted on it. Eyrún led them inside and up to Darwin and Zac who sat at a makeshift table covered by a large map of Europe, Iceland and the Nordic countries. LED lighting cast the room in surgical-theater white.

  After introductions, Pétur offered to make coffee in the small kitchen. “Cool,” said Zac when he learned of Stevie’s background. She leaned in on the table while he and Darwin alternated in explaining the lava tube and logistics. Eyrún listened while answering emails on her mobile. A short while later, metal scraped on concrete, and they turned to see Ian and two other men entered through the condo office door.

  “Hey, everyone. This is Jón and Karl,” said Ian. They all greeted each other then moved apart and faced each other like opposing teams. Who are these guys? thought Eyrún. She was about to break the silence when Darwin said, “At the risk of pissing everyone off again, how big are we making the team? We talked about stealth and speed.”

  “Fair point. Karl has worked with me on mining expeditions. Jón’s a minerals and diamond expert. We had to pull him off a project in China,” said Ian.

  “Stevie’s a cave biologist. We’ll find unique life forms as well as potential human uses of the cave,” said Eyrún. They argued a few minutes until it was clear neither side would compromise. Pétur offered to back out, but Eyrún said they needed him.

  “All right, then. There are eight of us. How are we going to get underground unseen with all our gear? It will take the better part of a day to move everything down to the tube mouth,” said Darwin.

  “I’ve been thinking about that. We do it in plain sight,” said Eyrún.

  “Like magic?” Jón pantomimed disappearing a coin in his palm.

  “Close. Next weekend is Verslunarmannahelgi, a three-day party for the whole country,” said Eyrún.

  “Aw shit. We have to miss it?” said Zac.

  “That’s why it’s a perfect time to go. No one will look for us. It’s just drinking, anyway,” said Eyrún.

  Zac looked stricken.

  “I like it,” said Ian.

  “I can borrow a couple Stjörnu Energy caravans. I’ll tell my boss we’re going to the festival in the Westmann Islands,” said Eyrún.

  “What if someone sees the vans?” said Ian. “That’s the biggest risk, I think.”

  Zac and Darwin looked at each other and together said, “Hilmar!”

  “The farmer?” said Eyrún.

  “He’ll let us park them in his barn,” said Zac.

  “That gives us eight days, people, to get everything together. The trailers arrive tomorrow. We need a hard list of all the supplies and get it all here,” said Ian.

  44

  That afternoon, Stevie and Karl got into an argument about scientific instruments. Karl said there was not enough space on the trailers.

  “Bullshit,” said Stevie, arms folded across her chest. “We need to know what’s in this tube.”

  Ian looked up from what he was working on. Stevie was toe to toe with a man who was more than a head taller and must outweigh her by a third. Shit! This mission’s doomed unless we can get it together, he thought and moved himself between the two.

  “Enough bickering!” yelled Ian. Karl walked away, and Ian moved to a whiteboard on the side wall. “Look, here’s the issue,” he said and wrote on the board, saying each word out loud:

  Air Food Water

  “Let’s assume the air is breathable. If Darwin’s Romans made it, we can. Food.” He pointed at the word. “We can carry dehydrated food. That leaves water. Our critical path. Do you know how much that is?”

  “Four liters a day, right?” asked Eyrún.

  “Bare minimum survival is one point two liters,” said Jón. They all looked at him. “I googled it,” he said.

  “Let’s work it through,” said Ian. He drew a lumpy brown line that dipped in the middle of the board and rose again on the right. He then drew a straight blue line that connected the sloped left and right ends of the brown line.

  “Iceland… seabed… Scotland,” he said, tracing his finger along the brown line. “The tube runs somewhere below.” He drew a black line below and parallel to the brown one. “It’s about eight hundred kilometers from Iceland to Scotland as the crow flies. Average walking speed is five kilometers per hour. Ten hours a day gets us fifty kilometers a day, that’s sixteen days.”

  They all stared, like students trying to absorb a word problem. Jón tapped on his mobile.

  “Let’s say four liters is optimal, best case, and one liter is worst case. Starting with ‘best case’, that makes eight people times four liters a day times sixteen days…”

  “Five hundred twelve liters,” said Jón.

  Stevie rolled her eyes and Eyrún suppressed a laugh. Ian wrote ‘512 liters’ on the board.

  “The weight ratio is one-to-one. That’s five hundred twelve kilograms, or one thousand one hundred twenty-six point four pounds for you, Zac,” said Jón.

  “Thanks, Mr. Peabody,” said Zac slapping Jón on the shoulder.

  “Who?” said Jón, holding up his Android phone. “It’s a conversion app.”

  Ian calculated the optimum amount of water per person spread across three trailers at 171 kilograms. Food and other gear would put each trailer weight over 200 kilograms.

  “Sixty-six kilograms. No way can we do that,” said Stevie.

  “Are you sure about that?” asked Jón, gazing into his crystal screen for an answer.

  “Says right here in trailer manual. Thirty-three percent of the load goes to the hip belt,” said Stevie.

  “Score one for the girls,” said Zac, mouthing “Doh” in Jón’s direction.

  Ian talked Karl into sitting on one trailer as he hitched himself up to it. At a hundred kilos, Karl was the largest of the group. Ian handled the weight with no problem as he walked around the small area. However, they figured that 200 kilos was far too heavy for more than a short distance.

  Even carrying the bare minimum, one kilo of water per day per person was too much, and attempting a journey of that length with minimal water would be foolhardy. They would walk for hours each day and need at least four liters of water per day.

  “Darwin, did Agrippa write anything about water?” said Ian.

  “He made a couple entries about food, but nothing about water.”

  They broke into side arguments again, and Zac, Ian, and Karl argued about carrying more weight than the rest of the team. A sound like a motorcycle passed by outside, then came back again. Ian saw Stevie walk over to the door and slip out. Zac followed her a moment later. A few minutes later, as the motorcycle sound passed by again, Ian walked to the front door and looked out.

  “Team, I think we have a solution!” said Ian, pushing a button that raised the roll-up door. Zac was speeding up an all-terrain vehicle past the open door and down the alley between the buildings. Stevie sat behind him with her arms straight out like she was flying. “The owner said we could try it,” Zac yelled in response to Ian’s question.

  It turned out that a local motorcycle and off-road
vehicle dealer used a condo a few doors down to store shipments. But amidst the excitement at finding a solution to their problem, Jón asked, “How will we get the ATVs down to the tube?”

  “Shit,” said Ian. “How big is that hole?”

  “About two meters. Maybe a little more,” said Darwin. Eyrún nodded in agreement.

  “What if we removed the roll bars? We could lower the ATVs using winches. One ATV can belay the other,” said Ian.

  “But we don’t know if it will fit,” said Jón. “Maybe we can rent one and take it up there.”

  “Wait. Hilmar has one. Same brand, I think. We can drive up there and borrow it,” said Darwin.

  “Can I go? I want to see this lava tube for myself,” said Stevie.

  “Me too,” Jón added. “It’ll help me figure out which instruments to bring.”

  “I’ll text Hilmar. If he’s cool with it, we’ll leave tonight,” said Darwin.

  Hilmar agreed, and before they departed Ian pulled Darwin aside. “That was good thinking earlier, and it’ll help the team. Jón’s super bright, but quirky. Text me as soon as you figure out if the ATV fits the hole.”

  “Got it,” said Darwin.

  “I know it must feel like we’re crashing your discovery, but it’ll come together. You’ll see. Eyrún believes in your idea, and the rest of us are catching on. We’re gonna need you,” said Ian, grasping Darwin’s shoulder. “We good?”

  “Yeah…” Darwin paused. “Yeah, we’re good.” They shook hands.

  45

  Ian surveyed the stacks of food and gear ready to be loaded into the caravans. It tempted him to review the list one more time, but he knew it was all there. Earlier in the week they had determined that Hilmar’s ATV would fit through the circular opening down to the lava tube. They all had worked furiously the last six days and were as ready as they could be. Tomorrow Eyrún would bring the caravans. Everyone drifted apart to spend their last evening aboveground doing what they wanted. Ian and Karl got in their rented van to go meet Robert.