by C. W. Trisef
“Should?” Pauline balked.
“That’s why I let Ret go first,” said Mr. Coy.
Ret continued to lead the company further along the half-mile road and deeper into the earth. When they began, Ret watched the sides of the gorge turn from sand to clay to rock until he could hardly see a thing.
When he at last reached the bottom of the mammoth staircase, Ret waited for the rest in the group to arrive, though he could hardly see them when they did. Mr. Coy tapped the ring on his finger, providing a faint gleam of light. The wall of rock in front of them stood like an immovable skyscraper. Then, aiming the light at their feet to reveal their next step, they were surprised to find no step at all but instead a bottomless chute. Mr. Coy scooped up a handful of pebbles and dropped them into the hole. Nothing. He shined his ring into the darkness. Nothing.
“What have we got to lose?” Coy asked.
“Lose? Nothing,” Ret replied. “Gain? Everything.”
“Then after you,” said Coy.
Ret dove into the abyss and disappeared in the blackness.
CHAPTER 12
SUNKEN EARTH
“Okay then,” Mr. Coy said cheerily, motioning to the others to follow Ret. “In we go.”
“No way, not happening,” Pauline asserted.
“No trip down the black hole of death for me, thank you very much,” Ana announced.
“I’ll pass, too,” Paige added politely.
“We haven’t come all this way just to turn back now,” Mr. Coy petitioned, trying to reason with them.
“You may have gotten us this far, Mr. Coy,” said Pauline, “but hole or no hole—”
“What did you call me?”
Ret could hear their bickering through the subsuits’ intercom as he continued to wend his way downward—at least, that was the direction he felt he was going, for it was impossible to tell anything about his surroundings. Every now and then, one of his fins or a few of his fingers would brush up against what must have been one of the sides of the vertical channel, helping him to reorient himself as best he could, considering he was upside-down and basically blind. Like descending into the heart of a deep cave, the immediate atmosphere was becoming colder and denser. Shrink-wrapped by the relentless water pressure, Ret was finding it difficult to breathe.
“Come on,” Ret said invitingly to the hesitant members of their expedition. “Everything’s fine.” He was happy to rest as he waited for them to catch up to him, though he had to latch onto the wall to prevent himself from floating upward.
“A light, just a little light,” Pauline repeated many times before everyone rejoined Ret. “Hello? I can’t see a thing.” With trepidation and waning patience in her voice, she was clearly thinking out loud. “I thought you said this suit could conjure up anything I can think of?”
“It can,” said Mr. Coy, “if the necessary resources are available. Obviously, there is nothing in the vicinity capable of producing light or else this entire cavern would be glowing like neon. And, apparently, your subsuit is unaware of the underwater flare in my possession.”
Pauline’s face flushed with indignation, though no one could see it on account of the lack of light. “Flare? Well, what are you waiting for? Light it already!”
Even though he was saving his precious commodity for more dire circumstances, Mr. Coy breathed a few of his air bubbles into his hand, forcing them into one large bubble. Working by the light of his ring, whose already-faint glow had now been rendered nearly useless in the murky water, he then inserted the ignition end of the flare into the bubble and lit it.
While the immediate flash of light emitted by the flare shone stupendously, the scene that it illuminated was utterly horrifying. Hanging on the walls all around them were dozens of human skeletons—skulls and bones, entangled in roots and seaweed, dangling like some kind of morbid puppet show. As soon as this gruesome sight registered in the minds of Pauline, Ana, and Paige, they each let out a blood-curdling scream, which startled Mr. Coy enough to lose his grasp on the waterproof flare. They watched the flare sink speedily, casting light upon the corridor’s walls immediately around it as it plunged out of sight.
“Still want a light, Polly?” Mr. Coy remarked bitterly.
“Ignorre-ance ith blith,” Ivan sighed.
“Or suicide,” sneered Pauline.
“My guess is those poor people died while trying to get out,” said Coy. “We are trying to get in. Big difference.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” Pauline questioned.
With their path having been lit (at one point) before them, the party pressed on, though with great hesitancy. Fortunately for Ret, who wanted to keep moving, swimming down this submerged shaft was something like trying to descend an ascending escalator: stopping meant digressing. The low density of their bodies required them to swim constantly and with enough strength to counteract the force being exerted against them by the increasingly denser water. Of course, all they had to do to prevent themselves from floating away was to simply grab hold of the side of the passageway, but that option had recently lost its attractiveness. In fact, an occasional gasp was heard from the lips of one of the girls whenever she grazed the edge of the tunnel, terrified by the grotesque décor she may have touched. It was their imagination that got the better of them, like walking through an unseen spider’s web and not knowing the whereabouts of its maker.
In time, however, the passageway began to level out. At the front of the pack, Ret kept his eyes fixed on the path ahead, strained and alert. His heart took courage, therefore, when he noticed small speckles of light in the distance, like faraway stars twinkling in the night sky. Fortunately, the gap between them and this first sign of light was not the expanse of outer space, for soon he was afforded a closer look, which revealed this curious glimmering to be some sort of luminescent glitter mixed throughout the earthen walls. It continued to intensify and increase in concentration with every stroke forward, casting a very filtered—though welcomed—light all around them. Wondering if his eyes were playing tricks on him, it looked like they were now passing through an underwater mine shaft whose belly was bespeckled with fragmented jewels.
“Look!” Ret yelled. “I see the end!” He pointed straight ahead where the end of the road curved upward sharply and light spilled into the water.
“Light at the end of the tunnel, eh?” Ana observed. “How ironic.”
Despite their strenuous journey, Ret swam with all his might to the end of the channel. Not once since their launch had fear seized his breast, only hope and a unique sort of happiness—the kind of sustaining anticipation that only comes from the progressive realization of the purpose of one’s life. For as long as he could remember (which wasn’t very long), Ret had always felt underused and unappreciated—like an untapped oil reserve or a forgotten asteroid—to say nothing of how often he was misunderstood by others. But, for once, he was beginning to feel like things were finally coming together in his life—that, at last, the drill was scratching his surface; that the center of the universe was pulling him back into orbit. At least, that was his hope, for while Ret’s five companions had never felt so beside themselves, recent events had awakened such a new hope inside himself.
Like a family of sea otters, the Coopers and the Coys, with their butler Ivan, surfaced in a large pond of water. Quickly finding the nearest edge, they pulled themselves onto the bank and collapsed with fatigue. Happily removing their subsuits and leaving them piled nearby, they found their legs and tried to adjust their eyes to their new environment.
It was a small room, like a foyer leading into something grander. There were no signs of intelligent life, just a patch of grass and adobe walls that came together overhead. From the pond’s edge spilled a small stream that flowed with the natural slope of the ground. Despite the room’s bareness, there was something about its features that seemed exceptionally bright. Every square inch seemed to shimmer and shine with a pulsating, flickering glow, which, wh
en reflected by the pond’s rippling water, caused colorful shadows to dance on the ceiling. The newcomers, however, assumed it was all just the temporary result of having been exposed to sheer blackness for so long.
“I like yoor fanny pack, thir,” Ivan complimented Mr. Coy as he prepared for what they might encounter in the near future.
“Utility belt, Ivan,” Mr. Coy corrected him, “utility belt. All the great superheroes wear one.” He patted it proudly.
“They all wear spandex, too,” Ana added.
“Oh, spare us all!” Pauline implored.
Feeling no need to recuperate, Ret had already ventured ahead of them. “Check this out,” he called out, his voice echoing off the clay walls. They stammered to his side, catching their balance. Ret had followed the stream until he was standing in front of a large stone door, thick and impassable, whose face bore the symbol of the hook and triangle.
“I feel we should go this way,” he suggested to the group.
“Gee, Captain Obvious, I wonder what gave you that idea?” Ana mumbled sarcastically. Besides the conspicuous clue of the symbol etched in the stone’s surface, the rock blocked the only apparent way out of the room. It sat directly over the stream, which still managed to flow underneath it without obstruction.
“And how do you feel we should get through?” Mr. Coy asked. Though he liked being asked his opinion on the matter, Ret could hardly say a word before Pauline read his mind.
“Oh, no,” she refused stubbornly, “I am not swimming in any more sinkholes today.”
Ana sighed. “Really, people?” she said, shocked. “Ret, just use your hand—you know, that wave thingy?”
Ret looked at the scar on his right hand. Never before had it appeared so brilliant. He rotated his hand toward the crude door when instantly the entire thing disintegrated. In a single motion, it was reduced to dust. Everyone was impressed.
“That was easy,” said Coy.
“He must work out,” Ana whispered to Paige, who giggled as they walked across the remains of the barrier and through the passageway.
What they encountered next blew everything they had experienced thus far out of the water—and then some. On the other side of the doorway sat a magnificent civilization, which stretched and sprawled as far as the eye could see. It was grander than anything they had ever seen—the size and magnitude of their world’s largest cities, all merged together in one. In the distance, towers rose above towns and villages, hemmed in on every side by thick vegetation. Rivers, great and small, meandered between buildings and around edifices. Where cities stopped, hills of farmland rolled out of sight. It was the metropolis of all metropolises.
This new world’s most striking feature, however, was the enormous mountain directly at its center. Whereas most major cities crowd their downtown districts with skyscrapers, the heart of this megacity was a towering mountain, a giant pyramid of raw earth. Everything else about the city seemed to go out from this central region. In fact, it was so massive that the cloud layer rose scarcely halfway up its slopes, where a thick and threatening group of storm clouds had accumulated, frequently illuminating with strikes of lightning.
“Wait a minute,” Ana said. “Aren’t we under the ocean?” The thought made reason stare. Their journey was proof enough that they were, indeed, under the ocean. But it wasn’t until Ana spoke up when they turned their attention to the sky—or the roof, rather. Like a domed sports arena, a light-colored ceiling enclosed the civilization in its entirety. They had, in reality, found a lost city, hidden from the rest of the world, concealed under the Atlantic Ocean.
This helped to explain another oddity. Directly above the mountain, a great waterfall cascaded through the roof. Spewing through a series of small openings in the ceiling, the seawater completely encircled the mountain’s peak, enclosing it in a sort of curtain of water. The waterfall gushed mightily, sending water down the mountainside in every direction, feeding the many rivers below.
For several minutes, Ret and the others stood motionless, absorbing the grandeur of the scene, for not only was it a lot to take in for the logical mind but also for the senses. Every particle—each atom—seemed to be electrifyingly alive. The plants were greener; the buildings were more vibrant; even the dirt glowed with a surging pulse of life and energy. Even though there were no new colors, each was much more brilliant and radiant, which combined to give everything an unreal, almost fake appearance. Had it been a photograph, the camera must have had a million megapixels, capable of microscopic resolution. Coupled with the crisp freshness of the warm, humid air, it was enough to overload the senses.
It was no surprise, then, when Ret became aware of a new source of energy, surging through his own body like life-giving blood through veins after vigorous exercise. He felt stronger, more alive; rejuvenated and recharged. The unpleasant sensation under the scar in his hand, once a nearly constant pang of discomfort, had given way to a pulse of empowerment.
“Welcome to Sunken Earth,” Mr. Coy said in awe.
“It looks like this place is on steroids or something,” Ana commented, helping everyone to shake off the trance caused by the unbelievable sight.
“Let’s find out why!” Ret replied with great enthusiasm. He was about to spring from their perch overlooking the city when Pauline interrupted him.
“Yes—why?” she said. Everyone turned to find her looking perplexed, with feet firmly planted and arms crossed. “Remind me just why we’re here exactly?”
“We’re here to find one of the elements, of course,” Mr. Coy explained. “Don’t you remember the message on the parchment: ‘Fill the Oracle, pure elements reunite’?” He retrieved the Oracle from his utility belt and held it in front of Pauline to jog her memory.
“Yes, I remember quite well, thank you,” she said. “But why? Why do we want to ‘fill the Oracle’—why do we want to ‘reunite’ the elements?” Though she had a history of being obstinate, everyone could tell that Pauline’s concern was sincere. Mr. Coy didn’t know what to say; in fact, no one knew what to tell her.
After several silent seconds, Ret hunched his shoulders and confessed, “I don’t know. I don’t know what all of this stuff means, Pauline. I don’t know where we are or what we’re doing here. I don’t know the future or all the reasons for things.” Everyone watched Ret, wondering if Pauline’s doubts were causing him to falter. “But we don’t have to know why. All we need to know is what’s right, and then do it, even if it means stepping into the darkness a little.” He took a few steps closer to Pauline. “After all, isn’t that what Jaret did?” She looked down with a face that was sad but happy. “He didn’t know why that ship was burning. He didn’t know if anyone was on board. But he did it anyway—because he felt it was the right thing to do.” Ret put his hand on Pauline’s shoulder. “And he saved me.”
“Oh, Ret,” she said, embracing him. Together they trotted down the trail ahead of the others. “Now let’s go and find this element!” she insisted, her qualms giving way to newfound zeal.
In just a few quick paces, they found themselves engulfed in jungle-like vegetation whose broad foliage and leafy vines left little room for visibility. A thick carpet of low-lying bushes and creeping shrubbery quieted their footsteps while several layers of canopy above shaded them below. Finding the dense growth to be impeding their trek, Mr. Coy advanced to the head of the team and started hacking the herbage with a short, broad sword.
“They didn’t call me Cutlass Coy for nothing,” he remarked, happy to feel needed.
“Ret, can’t you just move stuff out of our way or something?” Ana suggested playfully. Ret thought it was worth a try. Spying a large boulder nearby, he stretched out his hand and moved it according to his will. It rolled in front of Mr. Coy and plowed a trail, felling everything in its path.
“I could get used to this,” Ana said triumphantly. Once Mr. Coy had finished chopping the last few branches before the start of Ret’s improvised trail, he stopped in shock and dropped t
he cutlass to his side.
“Now how about you do something about all these mosquitoes, Ret?” Pauline begged desperately.
Now that Ret had simplified their safari to more of a stroll in the park, he and his comrades had much more time to assess their surroundings. It was remarkably quiet for a jungle of its kind; in fact, none of them had so much as seen or heard any signs of life—well, besides the mosquitoes, the universe’s only ineradicable organism.
“Haven’t you got any bug repellant in that fanny pack of yours?” Pauline asked Mr. Coy.
“This is not a fanny pack,” Mr. Coy insisted, now a bit annoyed. “We’ve been through this: it’s a utility belt!” Slightly regaining some composure, he continued, “And no, I don’t have any bug repellant. When you’ve been to as many places as I have, your body naturally develops its own repellant.”
“Which is why they invented deodorant,” Ana joked quietly to Paige.
The team was too enveloped in idle conversation and amazed observation to notice the group of armed guards that was silently closing in on them. From multiple angles, the guards stealthily analyzed their invaders and waited for the opportune moment to seize and capture them.
Without any warning, three large nets fell on Ret and the others like giant birds of prey, knocking them to the ground. Made of very flexible metal, the nets surged with some sort of electricity, making them dangerous to the touch and impossible to sever. Ret could only watch as their assailants emerged from their hiding places and loudly charged toward their catch.
“Cue the natives,” Ana sighed.
“Should’ve seen this coming,” Mr. Coy commented.
Ret’s initial reaction was to use his powers to free him and the others from their bonds. He easily thought of over a dozen different ways to creatively and resourcefully liberate themselves. But he chose not to do so. Something within himself discouraged such a plan and instead calmed his worried mind. And so, he and the others cooperated when their captors arrived and hauled them away.