by Dave Bartell
They paired up and carried sensors each direction in the tube to look for the CO source. They found nothing and an hour later the air measured normal. Karl took his mask off first and the others followed.
“What if the CO killed that mummy back there?” said Stevie, pointing toward Iceland.
“All right, hold on,” said Ian. “It’s not as simple as ‘let’s go back.’ We’re ten days in. That’s ten days out. Let’s investigate more and then decide. Darwin, what do you think?”
“Ah… it’s… um… six days to the diamond room. Ah… what if we cautiously move forward and monitor the air quality?” he said. What does this mean for us? Think? He was happy to have Ian take charge of the day-to-day tedium of packing up, who carried what, and when to stop. This feels too random. The tube’s inactive, so where would gas come from?
“And if we get a spike in the CO levels, we reverse course?” asked Stevie.
“We have to sleep,” said Zac. “That means being on the ground.”
Amid blank faces, Darwin said, “Hold on, everyone. I get it. This is scary, but too random. Maybe it’s from one of the ATVs. We need to figure out the source. Our gear is working. The alarms worked. Look, we’re thrashed. For the rest of tonight, let’s set a watch in addition to the alarm. If the CO returns, we head back. Tomorrow we work the problem harder.”
“I’ll sit up with the alarm,” said Karl, who had been standing a couple meters back during the debate. They turned toward him. Most of the time, he sat just apart from the group and never took part in their discussions.
“The alarm is still working,” said Jón. “I’ll change the recording to save every minute, so we can see minor fluctuations.”
“I guess that will work,” said Eyrún.
One by one they settled back onto the floor, masks on tight. Something’s not right with Karl, thought Darwin. Why did he take his mask off first? Why did he volunteer to stay up first? A couple days ago when he could not sleep he walked ahead in the tube and found Karl “exploring.” He thought it odd that Karl carried his backpack while looking around. What would he need to be carrying? Darwin tried to keep one eye open to see what Karl might do, but soon drifted back into sleep.
Karl waited another half an hour until he was sure all were asleep, then moved a few meters toward the backpack he had placed up the tube. He removed a small cylinder labelled “oxygen.” A tiny letter “c” was scratched on its bottom. He twisted the valve closed. It had worked. The CO alarm had introduced the element of fear. He grinned. The happy little camaraderie is shattered. Now we can divide the group and turn them against each other.
51
Darwin’s eyes felt like he’d washed them with sand, and breakfast brought no comfort, Southwest style pork jerky. Not bad for jerky, but it required the jaws of a sausage grinder to chew.
“Hey, Zac, I need your help on something,” said Darwin, motioning Zac to follow him away from the others. “The team is split on this one. I heard Stevie and Pétur wanting to go back, and Jón is worrying Eyrún with all the things that could go wrong.”
“Can’t say I blame them. We’re a long way from any kind of rescue in here. What if this ‘dragon breath’ as Eyrún calls it coughs up a loogie? We’d be dead before we knew it,” said Zac.
“Something doesn’t seem right. Agrippa wrote nothing about gases. And Karl says he was awake when the alarm sounded. Why is that?” asked Darwin.
“I don’t know. There’s something weird about him,” said Zac.
“We need to keep an eye—” Darwin stopped as boots crunched near them.
“There’s a problem with some of the team,” said Ian.
“We were just talking about it,” said Darwin.
“Join us, then, eh?” said Ian.
Everyone stood in a rough circle. Eyrún and Stevie leaned against a lava ridge on the side of the tube. Karl stood in the middle of the tube toward Scotland.
“All right, then. Do we keep going or return?” asked Ian.
“We don’t like this,” said Eyrún. “There are just too many unknowns here, and it’s not like we’re just down a hundred meters.”
“Stevie?” asked Ian.
“Yes,” she said.
“What if we split? Those of us who don’t want to go on can return to Iceland. The rest can go on,” proposed Jón.
“Not a good idea,” said Ian.
“Why not?” countered Eyrún.
“We packed the food and water on the ATVs for us to travel as a group. Splitting up also reduces our resourcefulness,” said Ian.
“But we can start over, this time with more gear for dangerous air conditions. It’s not like this tube is going anywhere,” said Eyrún.
“Wait, but you said the other day that the government, or whoever, wouldn’t let us back in. If we go back, well, we lose our chance,” said Darwin.
“I’m going on,” declared Karl. They turned to look at him.
“Me too, and Jón is with us,” said Ian.
Jón snapped his glance toward Ian, who nodded as if to say, You are going with us.
“Shit,” said Zac. “I’m for continuing, but I agree with Ian. It’s not smart to split the team, and I won’t let the women go back by themselves.”
“Thanks for your manly help, Zac, but Eyrún, Pétur, and I can go back on our own,” said Stevie.
One by one, their stares settled on Darwin. He was searching for something to say when his grandfather’s voice popped into his head, “Leadership is about declaring what people already want to do. They’re ready to go but need someone they trust to take the first step.”
“Look, what if we go another day and see if we can locate a source for the mystery gas,” proposed Darwin. Shit, that was lame. Say it stronger. “What I meant was, Agrippa encountered no gases. Maybe it was an anomaly, something from the ATVs. I recommend we go on. If we find the source, then we decide what to do based on the threat. We give the decision to an unbiased party. Jón has the analyzer. We decide based on the data,” said Darwin.
They looked at Jón, who looked down at the analyzer on his belt as if it would answer for him. “I… ah…”
Darwin placed a hand on Jón’s shoulder. “You saved our lives last night. No doubt you’ll be monitoring even more closely.”
“Wait. I don’t want to be the one responsible for the decision,” said Jón.
“You’re not. It’s a data call. You report the CO level. If it spikes, we go back. Anyone disagree?” said Darwin.
“No,” said each member as Darwin eyed them around the oval.
“Nicely done,” Ian said to Darwin as each of them split off to eat and pack up.
Jón and Zac were first on the ATVs that morning, and twenty minutes later the rest of the team followed. Stevie carried one of the backup CO sensors.
Ian and Karl started last and slowed their pace after a few minutes. Once they had let a gap open between them and the others, Karl snarled at Ian. “What was that back there? ‘We can’t split the group.’?”
“You heard Eyrún. We would end up with Darwin and Zac going with us. Losing the two women does nothing for us,” said Ian.
“We can do something else,” said Karl.
“There are only so many accidents we can explain before people would ask questions.”
“Robert said your fiancée is making you lose your edge.”
“Bullshit,” said Ian. “I’m here and Robert’s watching sailboats. You focus on your part and let me worry about the team dynamics.”
“Humph,” grunted Karl and sped up ahead of Ian.
What the hell is he up to? Ian wondered. Unless there’s a shitload of diamonds, there’s no way the cartel would risk mining down here, he thought, recalling a conversation he and Jón had had a few days earlier about how the cartel determined what to mine. Even if there’s nothing, Robert gets the money. Half a million’s good enough for me. I want no more diamond blood on my hands.
52
Zac’s butt fe
lt numb again, even though they had stopped for a break only fifteen minutes ago. He stood on the foot rests and steered with one hand as he looked down to adjust his pants with the other. The jostling caused them to keep riding up his crotch. He heard Jón yell something.
“What?” Zac yelled as he turned to face Jón.
“Look out!” Jón waved both hands and pointed toward the tube in front of Zac, who turned just as the tube opened in a massive space. The ATV’s headlight shined into a giant hole and he clamped the brakes as the front wheels dropped over the edge. He lurched to a stop, but Jón was slower and thumped from behind. Zac pitched onto the handle bars and his machine leaned forward almost forty-five degrees. He kept pressure on the brakes as hard as he could and reached one hand under his belly to switch off the ignition.
“Holy shit!” yelled Zac.
The floor dropped about a half a meter in front of him and ended at a broken edge about seven meters away. Beyond that was a black hole. He started to sit up, but the ATV slid forward. He leaned forward again, hugging close to the machine.
“What do you think it is?” asked Jón, now standing next to him.
“Fuck, I dunno, Jón. Get your ass back on your ATV and pull me out of here.”
“Oh, right, okay. What do I do?” said Jón, returning to his ATV.
“Back up a good ten meters, then tie the cable to my ATV,” said Zac looking back toward Jón. “Turn on the winch, and I’ll then reverse out of here at the same time. Got it?”
“I think so,” said Jón.
“You can do this Jón. Just hurry up,” said Zac.
Jón did as instructed, then switched on the winch to tighten the slack. Zac felt a tug behind him.
“Ready,” yelled Jón.
Zac restarted his ATV and double checked the reverse setting.
“Go,” yelled Zac and turned the throttle. The machine’s back wheels slipped on the rock and Zac leaned backed as hard as he could. The ATV backed up and Zac gunned throttle. It shot backward and hit a rock. One rear wheel bucked up and turned the ATV toward the wall. Zac pounced on the brakes as it hit.
“You okay?” asked Jón.
“I am now. I thought most black holes were in outer space,” said Zac. “What the hell is that?”
They grabbed lights and walked to the opening. The lava at the edge of the tube rolled off into the open space like a small waterfall in a creek. Two black skid marks from the ATV streaked its surface. Zac shuddered.
A massive chamber loomed before them. Zac felt like he was standing in the field level tunnel of a large football stadium. The center, where the playing field should be, was an empty space—a hole. The floor spread around the hole like the field level seating. The edge was ragged as if broken off by a giant hammer. Straight across the chamber was a lava tube about the same size as the one they stood in. They swept their lights to the left and illuminated a tube at least twice the size of the Iceland tube where they stood.
“I wonder how deep that is,” said Jón, returning his light to the hole in the center.
“I’m just glad to be ignorant of that answer,” answered Zac.
“We should explore this place before they get here,” said Jón.
Zac got out the ropes and set up a belay using both the ATVs as anchors. He knew their combined weight would more than offset his. He ventured onto the ledge and advanced about half a meter at a time toward the hole. The floor showed no signs of weakness. After a minute of measured steps, he reached the edge and peered over. Blackness. He shined a laser pointer into the centermost part of the gaping hole. It disappeared into infinity.
He tossed a fist-sized rock into the opening. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, four one-thousand, he counted, listening for the rock to hit bottom. Five one-thousand, six one—something buzzed next to his ear, and he jumped to his right and covered his head. His footing gave way, and he felt his right shin whack something hard as his foot slipped into empty space. The rope snapped taut. “Ooof!” He splayed belly first on the floor.
He whipped his head around and saw red eyes hovering over the hole. What the fuck? He imagined a miniature pterodactyl pissed off and hungry. He grasped the rope and scrambled back toward the ATV.
“Jón!” he yelled.
“Sorry,” said Jón from the tube. He held the controller of the hovering drone, its red LEDs flashing.
“Jesus, Jón. I almost went over the edge.”
“Actually not. You tied your rope shorter than the edge,” said Jón.
“What the hell are you doing?” said Zac, brushing himself off.
“Checking the depth and temperature. I’ve been waiting to use this. I built it myself.”
“No doubt,” muttered Zac. He sat next to Jón and looked at the data feed displayed on the tablet.
“The drone is streaming the data via a modified Wi-Fi signal. The sensors are reading depth, temperature and infrared,” said Jón as he lowered the drone into the hole almost out of his sight line.
“You built this?” asked Zac.
“Pretty much. It’s off-the-shelf stuff, but I made the mods to the standard sensors and amped up the data feeds. I used a basic data visualization app.”
Six panels of numbers and graphs fluctuated as the drone shifted position. The drone buzzed like a swarm of bees in a blossoming orange tree.
“It’s reading out the data left to right,” Jón said, pointing with his left elbow while keeping his hands on the controller. “Depth, temperature, and pressure.”
“What’s this bottom part?” asked Zac, pointing to a series of swiftly changing numbers.
“It’s the drone’s position in the room. Lasers are shining on the walls and ceiling. The data creates a three-D map of the space. See the dot on the far wall?”
Zac could just make out a green dot bouncing on the far wall and another on the ceiling.
“Crude, but it will help us map this place later,” said Jón.
“Dude, you’re a rock star. This drone and your apps could have great commercial value. How deep is that hole?” asked Zac.
“It varies. I was flying it around to map the space first. The shaft tapers.”
“Let’s find the bottom.”
Zac held up the tablet so Jón could see the numbers as he piloted the drone down the center of the hole.
“There’s an updraft,” said Jón.
“Wind?”
“No, thermal air currents. See the temperature reading? It’s peaking at forty-nine degrees.”
“Celsius?” asked Zac, knowing the answer was yes. “Stop! Go back! The numbers just shot way up, then back down. That must be the bottom.”
“Okay, backing it up,” Jón said, barely nudging the controls.
The depth gauge shot up from about 100 to 1,200 before it dropped again. Jón eased the drone back to where it showed 1,200, then the depth gauge flashed the infinity symbol.
“What’s that for?” asked Zac.
“The maximum range is twelve hundred meters. Beyond that, I programmed it to show infinity.”
“Is this accurate?” Zac pointed at 211 on the temperature gauge.
“Should be. I’ve tested it in a couple South African mines.”
“That’s warmer than normal for that depth.”
“It’s hard to account for the depth under the ocean and the thickness of the crust here.”
Zac shivered. If whatever was down there so much as burped, they would be cooked.
“There’s one more thing we can do. Tell me when the reading holds steady at infinity,” said Jón.
“What are we doing?” asked Zac.
“Dropping the sensor into the hole. It will relay data to the drone until it hits bottom. Watch the numbers closely. Once I let go of the sensor, I have to stabilize the drone so it doesn’t hit the ceiling.”
“Got it. Okay, a little to the left. Infinity. Drop it!” said Zac.
Zac watched the numbers race as the buzz from the drone whined hi
gher, then settled.
“Holy shit. It’s still falling,” said Zac after fifteen seconds. Jón glanced over at the tablet and saw the depth spin past 2,700.
“It should be at terminal velocity now!” yelled Jón. The numbers continued to fly, then froze at 9,213.
“Holy mother-of-pearl,” Zac whispered.
The drone controller beeped. “Shit,” Jón said, seizing it and flicking the joystick toward him. The live feed on the tablet went blank as the drone’s batteries died, and it bounced to a landing a few meters in front of them.
Jón took the tablet and tapped his way to a screen that showed the final readouts: depth 9,213 meters; temperature 597 Celsius; pressure 2,500 kilopascals.
“NFW,” said Zac.
“Deeper,” said Jón.
“How do you figure?”
“The pressure froze at a solid number. The sensor imploded. It was only rated at two thousand kilopascals, or twenty atmospheres.”
“That’s like having a few dozen elephants standing on your head,” said Zac, smiling.
Jón moved the fingers on his right hand like he was working up the equation.
“Oh, never mind,” said Zac. “Let’s say it’s a freaking hot pressure cooker down there.”
“The deepest natural hole ever recorded,” said Jón.
“What’s all this data?” Zac pointed to a matrix of numbers and symbols.
“Gas chromatograph data. I need time to analyze it,” said Jón.
“I’ll leave you to it,” said Zac, getting up and walking over to the ATVs. He rummaged in one bag for a snack when his headlamp highlighted a dark spot. He moved around the back of his ATV and saw a steady drip coming out of the water tank.
53
“You asshole. How fast were you going?” said Karl.
“The normal speed,” said Zac.
“Then you weren’t watching where you were going,” said Karl.
“I’ve had enough of your attitude, dickhead.”
“Enough!” Stevie barreled between them and shoved Karl.