Paradeisia: The Complete Trilogy: Origin of Paradise, Violation of Paradise, Fall of Paradise

by B. C. CHASE

  Doctor Ming-Zhen considered. They were both fairly familiar with the topography of the lake, so if they could find a landmark, or figure out which way the depth decreased, perhaps they could navigate back to the shaft. There was an island at the middle-north edge of the lake. If they could find that, certainly they would know which way was west. Also, there was a valley in the middle of the lake with a depth of 3,000 feet. On the west side, the depth was 700 feet, and on the east side the depth was 1,500 feet. Gauging the depth could tell them which side of the lake they were in. Doctor Ming-Zhen took a deep breath and looked at the picture of his family. “Let's go down,” he said.

  The average depth of the lake was fifteen hundred feet. They were descending at about two feet a second, so it would take them about ten minutes to reach the bottom, depending upon which side they were in.

  The subs had been equipped with enough oxygen for fifty-six hours. The readout told him he had fifty-four hours left.

  Midway through the descent, he collected a sample, though he couldn't see anything alive in the water. As the bottom gradually came into view, Doctor Ming-Zhen saw that it was gray and flat.

  Doctor Toskovic said, “Okey dokey, we are for sure in middle of lake.”

  “But the depth here is 700 feet: the middle of the lake has a valley with a depth of 3,000 feet.”

  “You are mistaken, my friend. There is ridge in the middle with depth of 700 feet. The west side of the lake is shallower at 1,300 feet and the east side is deeper, 2,600 feet.”

  “I thought the west side was 1,500 feet and the east side is 2,000.”

  “The maximum depth is 3,000 feet, my friend,” Doctor Toskovic sighed. “But even so, perhaps we have different sources for our information. We will see which one was right. Let's go this way,” Doctor Toskovic's submersible rotated perpendicularly to Doctor Ming-Zhen's. “It looks like the ground slopes up this way.”

  Doctor Ming-Zhen couldn't disagree with that, so he followed the Russian.

  Doctor Toskovic asked, “Do you agree that the island is in the middle of the lake?”

  “Yes.”

  “So if we find the island, and I think we will this way, then we know we are in the middle of the lake.”

  Soon they were traveling along about six feet from the bottom. Their lights provided a maximum of forty feet of visibility ahead of them, and Doctor Ming-Zhen kept a wary eye out for the elasmosaur. Somehow, the soft whirring sound of the engine was reassuring.

  It wasn’t long before something ahead on the ground glinted with the reflection of their lights. Doctor Toskovic must not have seen it because he didn’t say anything, but as they approached, Doctor Ming-Zhen slowed and lowered his vessel to get a closer look. It was a small, shiny object, gold in color, but he couldn’t see it well enough to figure out what it was. He utilized a remotely controlled camera to zoom in on the object, and was astonished to realize that it was a half-buried pocket watch. What was a pocket watch doing at the bottom of Lake Vostok?

  Zooming in a little more, he examined it more closely. No, it wasn’t a watch. He stopped breathing with shock.

  It was Doctor Toskovic’s compass.

  Doctor Toskovic’s submarine had stopped now, too. His voice came over the speakers, “Why did you stop, my friend?”

  Doctor Ming-Zhen’s mind was reeling. It was a complete and total impossibility that the compass be here. Doctor Toskovic said he had left it at the surface. Maybe he didn’t want to admit he had lost it. But if so, how had he lost it? There was no way for anything inside the submersibles to get outside the titanium walls. This was beyond the ability of his mind to process.

  “My friend?” Doctor Toskovic’s voice prodded.

  Something inside him told Doctor Ming-Zhen that he should keep this discovery a secret. So he quickly maneuvered away from the compass and said, “I had to scratch an itch. No problem.”

  There was silence, and Doctor Ming-Zhen feared his lie would face scrutiny.

  Several seconds passed, then Doctor Toskovic said, “We have limited power and oxygen, you know. Best we not waste it on little itches, eh?” He laughed.

  Traveling on through the blackness, Doctor Ming-Zhen wished he would have sucked the compass into a storage container. Although he couldn’t bring anything from the containers into the sub, he might have been able to see which direction they were going.

  Before long, there was a distraction to his thoughts. Ahead, at the edge of the beams from their headlights, a pair of tiny points of light appeared, gleaming blue through the water. “Do you see the lights?” Doctor Ming-Zhen asked.

  “I see them. Do you know what they are?”

  “No. They look like eyes,” he replied.

  As they drew closer, more pairs of lights became visible hugging the floor of the lake. They seemed to move slowly from side to side, with new ones suddenly blinking on at such a rapid rate that within minutes there were hundreds of them. Closer and larger, it was apparent that they were triangular in shape, and each pair was at the front edge of a round dome. Spreading out from underneath each dome was a crop of fourteen grotesque, insect-like legs tipped by sharp-looking claws.

  Doctor Ming-Zhen slowed his speed. Each of the creatures was no more than two feet long, but he wasn't sure if they were dangerous or if they could swim up from the ground. “Do you know what they are?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think they are giant isopods, bottom feeding crustaceans,” Doctor Toskovic said. “But you would never see this many. There must be much food that drops down for them to eat.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Doctor Ming-Zhen asked.

  A laugh erupted over the speakers. “No, my friend,” Doctor Toskovic chuckled, “They wouldn't eat you unless you were in nice little bite-sized pieces.”

  Doctor Ming-Zhen found Doctor Toskovic's casual, nonchalant attitude irritating. The Russian had a good excuse to be so worry-free: he hadn't been attacked by a sea monster.

  As the submarines passed over them, the giant isopods watched them eerily with their highly reflective eyes, almost as if they were silent guardians of some forbidden territory.

  They passed over the isopods. Beyond was a beautiful, ambient, and blue luminescence. Doctor Ming-Zhen was awestruck: he had never really asked the question the first time, but how could there be any light down here at all? This lake should be totally black.

  Before long, he received the answer. They found themselves entering a smack of hundreds of jellyfish, each of them glowing blue. The creatures silently sifted the water, and were not too dense for the men to pilot their submersibles through.

  “I think I catch one,” Doctor Toskovic said.

  “No. They could get sucked into the engine and clog it up.”

  “I think you spent too much time studying dead animals, my friend. Simply because something is alive does not make it dangerous.”

  “We really should focus on getting back to the shaft. We can modify the subs to deal with the current and come back down again to collect more samples. Clearly, this lake is hosting an abundance of life, and it isn't going anywhere.”

  “Is that what you think? All this life is trapped in Lake Vostok?”

  “Well, yes,” Doctor Ming-Zhen said, befuddled at the question. Of course the life was trapped in this lake. That was why they had come: to see if there was evidence of life trapped here after eons of years. It only so happened that there was life itself instead of its remnants.

  “That is theory and you stick it to it.” Doctor Toskovic said in an amused tone.

  Annoyed, Doctor Ming-Zhen said, “Yes. But why? What do you think?”

  “I think that there is more than meets eyes about this place, my friend.”

  “How?”

  “Well, giant isopod, for example . . . .”

  “What about them?”

  “Suffice it to say they should not be here. Nor should jellies. Not even one.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We shall see, my friend. We shall
see.”

  Doctor Ming-Zhen wished the Russian would just say what it was he was thinking. This condescension did not seem at all like him. In the month Doctor Ming-Zhen had known Doctor Toskovic, he had been gregarious, easygoing. Certainly never condescending.

  And, besides, Doctor Ming-Zhen was in charge. Doctor Toskovic should be showing more deference.

  Now the Russian's submersible slowed to a stop, forcing Doctor Ming-Zhen to stop also. A small, clear canister extended from the body of the sub, towards one of the unsuspecting jellyfish.

  “I said no. We do not have time for this,” Doctor Ming-Zhen protested.

  “It will take only minute,” Doctor Toskovic said.

  The canister was far too small to accommodate the creature, but that didn't seem to bother Doctor Toskovic.

  Doctor Ming-Zhen warned, “Make this quick. We don't want to run out of oxygen.”

  “Anything you say, my friend.” Doctor Toskovic's voice had an odd, stoic tone.

  With the creature struggling to free itself, suction gradually pulled the jellyfish's tentacles into the canister. The suction kept pulling, until the bell was plastered on top. Finally, the bell ripped and the rest of the parts were vacuumed in. The canister retracted back into the sub. Doctor Toskovic said, “Nothing to it.”

  “You killed it,” Doctor Ming-Zhen muttered.

  “I like to kill,” Doctor Toskovic’s voice said without an iota of emotion.

  Continuing along the bottom, Doctor Ming-Zhen noticed that the grade of the slope was becoming steeper. He said, “We must be approaching the wall of the lake,” he said.

  “Yes, I think so also. Or island.”

  That seemed too much to hope for. If they found the island, they would certainly know which way to turn from there in order to go south.

  Sporadic rocky bulges protruded out from the sediment on the bottom, increasing in frequency until they reached a wall of tiered boulders. Sponges grew all over them.

  They followed the tiers upwards for about ten minutes until they could see ice. Doctor Toskovic said, “You stay here to provide point of reference. I will go around and see if this is the island.”

  “It's very unlikely this is the isl—“

  The Russian's voice sounded impatient, unconcerned, “Wait here. I will return.”

  Doctor Ming-Zhen did not appreciate Doctor Toskovic's attitude, but the idea did seem logical: a point of reference would provide them with a better idea of the topography. Doctor Ming-Zhen said, “Okay, go on.”

  Despite the galling persona that Doctor Toskovic was adopting underwater, Doctor Ming-Zhen felt anxious watching his submarine disappear around the bend of a rocky outcropping. He definitely did not want to be caught alone if the elasmosaur returned.

  FBI Field Office, Baltimore

  Special Agent Jarred Kessler sat at his desk. He had just come off the phone with Stacy Riley.

  She was angry.

  She was aggravated with the FBI for “not doing enough” to find their son. And Jarred internally agreed he had not done enough, but this wasn't because of lack of effort. There was simply nothing to follow. They had tried everything they could:

  The only fingerprints in the house they found were from Gary and Stacy. No unexpected shred of DNA appeared anywhere, not even on the boy's pajamas that had been left behind. They had combed all around the house for evidence of murder, or for a sign that someone had been trying to hide the body. They had searched all the computers and cell phones Gary and Stacy owned for anything suspicious. There was nothing that related to the crime. Even if the dad was guilty, they had found nothing which could possibly peg him. And the drawing, though terrifying, provided nothing actionable.

  Instinctively, Jarred knew it wasn't the father. After dealing with hundreds of missing persons cases, he could smell guilt. He knew that this guy wasn't guilty. Yes, they had found evidence that Gary Riley had his own dirty secret, but it wasn’t something Jarred wanted to roil the FBI up in, and was certainly not related to the disappearance.

  It was as if the child had vanished into thin air.

  Jarred found himself mulling over the last words that Gary had heard his son speak, words that now rang with the terror of an omen: I saw eyes. Daddy, I saw eyes. It seemed to Jarred that perhaps innocent little Jeffery had seen his captors even before he was taken. But why had he said he saw “eyes?” Was his vocabulary so limited that he couldn't say he had seen a person? And if he had seen someone, how had this person been on the second floor?

  He was suddenly interrupted by Todd Humphries, a fellow Special Agent. He was the comedian of the office. “Did you hear the strange case that hit the national alert?”

  “No?”

  “Yeah, it's a missing child case.”

  “Okay.”

  “Same as all the missing children cases: a child is missing,” Todd had a dopey grin. “But with this one, there's a catch.”

  “What's that?”

  “The child was never born! The guy claims that his wife was pregnant and then 'poof' the baby was gone.”

  “So he thinks the baby just disappeared into thin air?” Jarred asked.

  “I guess. What a nut.”

  Slowly, Jarred agreed, “Yeah...” But inside, the machination of his mind began to churn. Perhaps it was only desperation, but Jarred thought the case sounded a little too familiar to ignore. A sudden, inexplicable vanishing with no trace? He stood up and, despite the look of dubiety on his friend's face, asked, “What region did it come out of?”

  Jet

  Aubrey had fallen asleep on the desk. They had been working all day and were now crossing the arctic at night. Henry pulled out a screen and entered a term in a search box:

  glowing tattoo

  Dozens of entries came up. It was apparent that glowing tattoos were readily available. So, there was no cause for alarm in the Andrews’ case, Henry thought.

  He slipped the screen back into his brief case and turned to gaze at the starlight out the window. On the ground below, he could see a vast white nothingness bathed in the moonlight. It was beautiful in a cold, lonely sort of way.

  Suddenly, a bright flash from high in the atmosphere illuminated the landscape for an instant. Then Henry spotted something with a long tail streaking through the air. A meteor. It was hard to judge distance and size, but it looked like it must be large given the long trail of what was visibly blazing hot fire. Henry watched it plummet all the way down to the white earth, where it was no longer visible. Henry spun his chair back around and looked at Aubrey.

  She was a gorgeous girl. The most beautiful girl he had ever seen, in fact.

  He allowed his eyes to linger. Feeling guilty for staring at a sleeping woman, he looked back down at his papers.

  It was amazing to Henry that in legal matters paper was still a prerequisite at times. Everything else was digital.

  His eyes drifted back to her, and he suddenly felt some compassion for her, sleeping on the hard surface as she was. Deciding to ask Maggie to wake her and take her to bed, he opened the door to the office and strode down the hall, past the board room and the public salon to the crew quarters. Lorraine was there sleeping, a bottle in her lap. The alcohol was out of control. But her addiction reminded him of someone very dear from years past; that's why he tolerated it . . . and he felt sorry for the woman. Who would give her work in that condition? She would surely become destitute.

  Maggie was also there, sleeping. The only other people on the aircraft would have been Jinkins and the pilots. Most planes flew themselves these days but Henry insisted on having pilots, just in case.

  Henry peered into the cockpit through the door that Lorraine usually left open. The instrument panel glowed many different colors, but outside the windshield he could see a cloud approaching. There was turbulence as they entered. Sporadic bursts of lightning ignited the cloud with a pale glow. Henry stepped into the cabin and addressed one of the pilots, “Uneventful flight, Michael?”

  The p
ilot turned to greet him, “Yes, sir. I hope it's more interesting back there.”

  “Everyone is sleeping,” Henry replied.

  They emerged on the other side and the turbulence ebbed. Henry could see more clouds approaching, the billowing tops gray in the moonlight. And the clouds were transforming, quickly; blotches of shadow were swiftly shifting and undulating. The lightning burst from within the clouds, yet the shadows remained, growing ever larger.

  Henry rested his hand on the back of the pilot's chair as he leaned forward. Those were not shadows, but dim shapes gliding in the air towards the plane. The hair on Henry's neck bristled. It was clear they were not planes or birds or anything else that should be in the sky. Henry blinked and looked closer. There was no doubt. They were heading directly for the aircraft. Henry addressed the pilot: “Michael?”

  “I see them, Mr. Potter. But they're not registering on our system,” he replied.

  Michael shook his copilot awake. “What do you make of that, Drew?”

  Drew, groggy and a little disoriented, made an effort to focus on the figures in the distance. Finally, he said, “Whatever they are, they're turning.”

  It was true: the objects had changed trajectory. Michael said, “Looks like they're heading away south.”

  Drew said, “Well that's a relief. Aircraft without lights or communications are never good.”

  Henry walked back to his office where Aubrey was still sleeping. He stood there, pondering what to do for a few moments. Then he knelt down and lowered his face towards hers to wake her. Her eyes were closed, but it almost appeared that she was smiling. Was she awake?

  “Aubrey?” He tapped her.

  She was sleeping very soundly.

  He jostled her, and she began to rouse. In a half-sleep, she said, “I’m so tired.”

  “Stand up,” he commanded.