Roman Ice

by Dave Bartell

  A few meters farther, they reached a small circular chamber that smelled of sulfur. The walls and ceiling were blasted smooth and fired in a circular pattern. The ceiling was black as deep space and the floor a vibrant yellow lava lake. Zac snapped more pictures and wrote notes about the small chamber.

  “I’ve watched eruptions in Hawaii,” said Zac. “And I always wondered what it was like in the flow. I guess this is it.”

  “It’s beautiful,” said Stevie, running her fingers across the wall. “Peaceful.”

  “Anything we put here would last for a thousand years.”

  “Thirty-thousand,” she replied in a faraway voice. She took off her pack and removed a piece of drawing charcoal from a small box.

  “What’s that?” asked Zac.

  “Shhhh.”

  Stevie placed her left hand on an orange section of the wall and rubbed the charcoal between her fingers. She then shaded the surrounding rock until a solid orange handprint remained. She stepped back and folded her arms across her abdomen. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Zac inhaled with her. She sighed a few moments later and opened her eyes.

  “I wanted to do that someplace where no one would ever find it,” she said.

  “You should put a date on it,” said Zac.

  “But would it have any meaning in thirty thousand years?”

  Zac saw that Stevie occasionally touched the wall as if there was vibration. To him this was just a rock. Mostly they had walked in silence the last twenty minutes and were just about to turn around.

  “Look,” said Stevie as the ten o’clock tube joined a larger tube at about a forty-five degree angle. Lava piled up at the intersection and curled into a wave frozen at its breaking point.

  “Cool,” said Zac, crouching down in the curl like a surfer. A light flashed, and he looked to see Stevie snapping a photo.

  “Where do you think this goes?” asked Stevie.

  “I have no idea,” said Zac. “It looks familiar, though. I’m sure we haven’t been here.”

  “Me too, but it looks just like the Iceland tube,” she said. “Do you think the ten o’clock tube looped outward from the diamond chamber and reconnected here?”

  “It’s possible. Let me think,” he said. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. His fingers interlocked with index fingers pressed to his lips.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Replaying our journey from the diamond chamber.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know how, but I can figure out spaces. Just give me a moment.”

  “I’m sure this is the Scotland tube,” she said.

  “How?”

  “The air pressure is identical.”

  “You can tell?” he said.

  “No, stupid. The Romans left a mark on the wall,” she said, pointing to the Aquila she found.

  “You tease!”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. He reached for her, fingers wiggling as if to tickle her.

  “What’s that?” she looked past him.

  “What?” he turned toward distant shouting that came from down the tube toward the diamond chamber.

  63

  The Diamond Chamber

  Ian helped Pétur and Jón set up the survey equipment in the center of the floor to estimate the quantity of diamonds. “How much do you think it’s worth, Jón?” asked Ian.

  “Can’t tell yet, but the volume is much less than the deep African mines,” said Jón, sitting on the floor adjusting a sensor.

  “How so?”

  “The ocean up there,” said Jón, pointing, “It’s less than a hundred meters before you get to water. At ten meters wide and a hundred tall, this shaft is a relatively small find. Combine that with the cost of extraction and it won’t turn a profit.”

  “Karl,” said Ian springing to his feet and heading toward Karl, who was standing close by the Scotland tube. Earlier in the day, Karl had suggested sealing off both the Iceland and Scotland lava tubes. Ian had agreed in principle but insisted that they be sure the Scotland tube had an exit or it would trap them. His anger now spiked as he realized Karl was risking their lives. We don’t need to blow up anything. We keep the million and a half and walk away.

  “Karl, where’s the C4?” yelled Ian.

  “What?” said Pétur, running to catch up.

  “Robert knew you were soft,” Karl growled.

  “That’s bullshit and you know it,” said Ian, now face to face with Karl. Suddenly a knee came up and Ian twisted to avoid a vital strike. The blow caught him in the hip. He counterpunched Karl in the ribs. Karl turned to break away. Ian cut his legs out with a kick.

  Both men rolled away from each other and sprang to their feet. Karl flung a rock. Ian dodged it, but missed the round-house kick into his chest. He went down hard. Karl pivoted and looked at Pétur with eyes like a wild animal. Then he spun away and ran for the Scotland tube.

  “He’s got a bomb,” Ian croaked.

  Pétur looked at Ian, “What?”

  “He rigged explosives,” Ian repeated. He pushed up on one knee and staggered after Karl. Pétur sprinted past him and caught Karl about ten meters inside the Scotland tube. Ian closed the gap as he watched Pétur drive Karl to the ground and roll off to one side. Pétur grabbed a fist-sized rock as he regained his footing and sprang forward. But Karl was already standing and, veering with the grace of a dancer, used Pétur’s own motion to fling him into the wall. Pétur thudded against the rock and grunted as his lungs emptied.

  Ian flashed by Pétur and hit Karl broadside, pinning him against the opposite wall. Ian pressed his left forearm hard against Karl’s throat, his right hand held a knife ready to plunge into Karl’s neck. “Where is it?” yelled Ian.

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’ll kill you, motherfucker.”

  “Go ahead. Then you’ll all die,” said Karl.

  “These people did nothing to you. Where is it?”

  Karl’s lips thinned into a sadistic smile. “Jón’s backpack.” The distraction worked. Ian glanced toward the diamond room and Karl kneed him in the groin. Ian went down again and Karl ran up the Scotland tube, pulling a remote control device from his pocket.

  “Jón!” yelled Ian, struggling to his feet. Pétur ran ahead of him into the diamond chamber and was a couple meters inside when the chamber flashed like a lightning strike at midnight. Four holes instantly appeared, followed by a spiderweb of cracks. Each detonation performed its horrible task, bursting the rock arch that had held the floor in place for countless millennia. Ian watched Jón scramble to stand, but did not rise. Instead, the floor pushed down, the rocks tumbling under his feet. Jón’s eyes blazed with terror. He was running on air.

  “Ooph,” expelled Ian as the compressive wave swatted him like an invisible hand. He flew backwards and watched in mute horror as the void swallowed Jón. Where’s Pétur? I can’t see Pétur. Everything went black.

  64

  The Scotland Tube

  “No!” screamed Zac and ran toward the noise. He knew the sound. He had heard too much like it in Afghanistan.

  “What?” yelled Stevie.

  “It’s a bomb. Stay there,” he commanded over his shoulder. She followed despite his warning. Zac stumbled once and, arms flailing, caught his balance and kept moving. A light appeared in the distance and moved toward him. He put a hand up to his eyebrows to block it. The light flooded the tube. He could not see beyond a few steps in front of him.

  “Talk to me, motherfucker,” he yelled. He knew it had to be Karl. The ATV roared toward him. Zac knew he had one chance to knock him off. He moved left. The headlamp moved with him, closing fast. Karl had it wide open. At this speed, a medium-sized rock would cartwheel the thing.

  At the last second, Zac dashed right hoping to swing around the driver. Karl expected him and mirrored Zac’s movement.

  Stevie screamed as she watched Zac’s body lifted and thrown against the wall like a bull fighter who
had misjudged his opponent. The ATV stopped, jammed up against the wall. It backed up and roared forward, aiming for her.

  She turned and ran for the opening at the lake tube. She could almost feel the ATV light on her back and glanced over her shoulder. It was meters behind her. Shit! She threw herself to the ground as it roared past, but stopped. She got up and sprinted for the opening about three meters away as Karl jumped off the ATV.

  “You fucking asshole,” she yelled, realizing he would close the gap. She pivoted and ran a couple steps up the lava wave and pushed off, aiming a kick at his head. He got his right arm up to block his face. He grunted on the impact and caught her trailing leg. The blow took both to the ground. She tried to roll, but he was faster. Her headlamp showed Karl’s angry dirty face, eyes empty and mechanical, then his hand pounded the side of her helmet.

  65

  The Three O’Clock Tube

  Eyrún and Darwin retreated to where the dust was less thick and their coughing lessened. Darwin wiped his forehead with the bandana, leaving black creases, and pushed down a rising fear. Stay calm. Work the problem.

  “What happened?” asked Eyrún.

  “Dunno. Cave-in. Well, obviously.” He coughed again. “Was that yelling we heard?”

  “I couldn’t tell. A scream maybe, like someone panicked,” she said.

  “You don’t think… no, we already moved the ATV,” he said.

  “Darwin?” she said.

  “What about Jón’s tests? Maybe they were all standing in the same spot,” he said, pacing back and forth.

  “Darwin!” she shouted. He stopped and turned to her. “It doesn’t matter what happened out there. We’re trapped,” she said and crawled up the rock pile.

  “How far to the opening do you think?” he asked, crawling up next to her.

  “Ah.” She looked back and forth. “We took the pictures from about here. I remember that stalactite. Perhaps a meter?”

  “That seems about right. What if we move the rock back there?”

  “We don’t want to block ourselves in,” she said, picking up a rock. “You go back there. I’ll toss them to you and you throw them clear.”

  “Okay,” he said. They worked that plan for about five minutes until Darwin was hit twice and changed the plan. He joined her at the front of the pile, and they both tossed rocks backward, then they retreated and tossed the pile farther back. They worked this two-pile plan an hour, then stopped for a break. Sweat soaked Darwin’s shirt, and he mopped his face with the bandana. Eyrún massaged her sore ankle. “What if we can’t get out?” she asked.

  66

  The Diamond Chamber

  Ian opened his eyelids a fraction. Dust rained down and he squeezed them shut again. The dust parched his throat. He had to move. Pain shot through his back as he rolled to the side, coughing. He pushed up to his hands and knees.

  It felt like hours had passed. He looked at his watch. Forty minutes since he’d last checked. When was that? A few minutes before the fight with Karl. The blast. His memory was jumbled fragments. Where was everyone else? He surveyed the wreckage with his helmet lamp. Dust hung in the air like fog. He walked up the Scotland tube and saw that the ATV was gone. A pile of supplies lay on the floor where they had left them next to the machine. His lamp reflected off something up the tube. A body. He stepped deliberately, still regaining full consciousness.

  Zac lay against the wall. He knelt and checked for a pulse. Weak, but steady. How the hell did he get here? he thought and continued up the tube. In a minute he reached a junction with another tube. This must connect back to the ten o’clock tube, but where’s Stevie? He dropped to one knee and surveyed the floor. A small metal object rested against the wall. Stevie’s jeweler’s loupe. He picked it up. Its lanyard was broken. He looked around. Karl must have taken the ATV.

  “You asshole,” said Ian and hurled a handful of pebbles up the tube.

  He coiled the lanyard and put Stevie’s loupe in his pocket. He walked back toward the diamond chamber. Zac was still out cold when he passed by. He returned to the chamber where the dust haze had settled and his head lamp reflected the diamonds on the far wall. The chamber appeared darker, then he saw why.

  “Goddamn you, Karl!” he said. A void had sucked away the lower half of the chamber. A ragged cut ran around the edge of what used to be the floor. Noxious fumes assaulted his nose. He crawled to the edge of the tube. The remaining chamber floor sloped outward until breaking off about two meters from the wall. Raw diamonds littered what remained of the floor and sparkled in his headlamp. Lava dust formed a whitish cloud that drifted down into the gaping hole.

  He squeezed hands full of rock. The sharp lava bit his palms and he hurled it into the darkness. His temples pounded, and he dropped his head on his fists and tried to make sense of the disaster. Anyone who had been in the chamber before the blast would now be gone. He followed the broken floor as it narrowed against the chamber wall as it reached the three o’clock tube with Eyrún and Darwin. At that point, a large section of the chamber ceiling above the tube had collapsed blocking the tube. Beneath it, the chamber floor had fallen away and was scarcely wide enough for a rat as it circled toward the Iceland tube.

  “Eyrún! Darwin!” he yelled. “Anybody!” Silence. Jón and Pétur were gone. He tried to scrub the memory of the floor breaking up and the horror on Jón’s face. Staring straight across at the Iceland tube, he saw the floor extend into the chamber about the same two meter distance as the Scotland tube. The orange reflectors on the ATV warned of its presence. He kept following the remaining floor clockwise past the Iceland opening. A few meters farther around, the floor ended. There was no way around to the Iceland tube. He was trapped on this side.

  The ten o’clock tube where Stevie and Zac had gone was not blocked and he could get to it. A wider section of floor remained between him and the opening. He brought his vision closer. There was a body on the floor just this side the tube opening. Pétur! He was on his back, right foot over the edge bent at the knee. He groaned and twisted his body as Ian’s light hit him in the face.

  “Don’t move!” yelled Ian. He stood and gripped the tube wall. The floor varied between one and two meters wide between and he probed the remaining floor with his left foot. It held. He stamped down still holding the wall. Solid. The floor was eighteen centimeters thick, but was riddled with cracks.

  “Don’t move Pétur. I’m coming over to help you.” He got down on hands and knees and moved to Pétur. The floor creaked. He stopped and lay flat to distribute his weight.

  “Pétur, can you hear me?”

  No response. He continued crawling until he got behind Pétur and pulled his shirt collar, but it acted like a noose. He let go and stretched farther forward to grasp Pétur’s belt. Ian pulled. Pétur moved, but his leg caught on the edge.

  Ian moved closer and reached his arm across Pétur’s abdomen and grabbed the belt toward his right hip. The hole yawned less than a meter from his face. Panic rippled through him. He pushed the thought away and counted: one, two, three. Ian growled as he arched left and pulled Pétur’s belt. The fabric on Pétur’s pant leg ripped as his leg flew up. Ian heard a sharp cracking as several chunks of the floor fell away.

  He moved to a kneeling position and yanked Pétur closer as another section of the floor collapsed. Ian fell back on his butt, then scrambled to his feet, pulling Pétur by his arms. He backpedaled until he hit the wall and they landed in a heap, Pétur face down on top of him. Ian heard a crack and felt the floor disappear under his left outstretched foot.

  67

  The Scotland Tube

  Zac’s eyes fluttered open. “Stev—,” he called out, but a sharp pain in his head caused him to bite back the second syllable.

  He breathed in through clenched teeth and pressed fingers into his temples. Massaging the skin, he worked the pain down to a manageable level. He stood and walked up to the junction where he left Stevie. She was gone.

  “Stevie! Stevie!” His h
ead pounded with each yell.

  He stopped moving, closed his eyes and listened. Nothing but ringing in his head. The explosion. His brain visualized where everyone was at the time of the explosion. Karl was gone. Was she with him? No, she would not go. Maybe she ran to the lake tube, but why did she not come back?

  Darwin and Eyrún were in the three o’clock tube, safe from any explosion. Pétur, Ian, and Jón were in the diamond chamber. Oh fuck! Bodies never came out on the good side of explosives. He walked toward the chamber and put on his battlefield face. He was prepared for anything, except what he saw. Nothing.

  “No, god, no,” he said and collapsed against the wall. Everyone was gone. The explosion sealed Darwin and Eyrún in the three o’clock tube and there was no way to get to the ATV in the Iceland tube. Where the hell is Stevie? he thought and winced at another sudden burst of pain in his head. Just move. Get into action. There has to be a way. He walked back up the Scotland tube stopping to rest a couple times. He found no signs of Stevie at the junction and continued to the lake. She was not there either.

  What if she crossed the lake? What now? He paced the small shoreline and debated following Karl. Ripples slapped against the rocks at his feet. Someone was out there.

  “Stevie!” he yelled pressing back the pain his temples.

  Nothing. He leaned down and looked across the water. Something was out there just passing under the low spot in the ceiling. It was two helmeted heads.

  “Who is it?” he yelled relieved to find someone else alive.

  “Ian,” said a voice in the water.

  “Ian?” said Zac his anger rising.

  “Yeah. I’ve got Pétur. He’s hurt. I found him in the diamond room.”