by David Cline
Wilkins chuckled. “Remember that time we got lost in the maze in southern Utah?”
Wood smiled. “Condor country. Right across from the island in the sky.”
“At least from the depths of the maze we could see the sky.”
Their progress was slow. They tried to stay in what they thought was the primary tunnel. Wilkins removed a pocket watch sized compass. Whenever another tunnel branched off in a random direction, they put their heads together and tried to continue walking south-east, leaving a pile of rocks in their wake to mark the way.
“If I ever have a daughter,” Wilkins said, balancing a final rock on top of one of the piles, “I’m going to name her Cairn.” He took a quick drink from the mouthpiece connected to his shoulder strap. “How many times have we been saved because someone took the time to create a carefully placed cairn in the middle of nowhere?”
“More times than I want to think about right now,” Wood said.
To his delight, the cave’s width and height expanded the further they went. Soon he could walk completely erect. “It’s no wonder our Neanderthal ancestors are always depicted with hunchbacks,” he said, putting his hands on his lower back and stretching. “If humans are ever forced to live in caves again, I would go extinct pretty fast.”
Wilkins ran his hands along the wall and examined the surface closely. “This is ridiculous. At some point they must have had markings to lead the way. The cave system has more branches than a cottonwood tree.” He scraped the cave wall with the back of his knife. A few pieces fell to the ground. “I would think paint would have easily survived down here.”
Wood retightened the strap over one of the pistols. “It’s like a tomb.” The sweat beads on his forehead felt cool and he used the back of his hand to wipe them off. He paused and elevated his head like a dog listening. “Do you feel that?”
Wilkins returned the blade to its sheath and stood still. He rotated slowly until he faced further down the tunnel. “The air smells fresher.”
“I think I feel an air current. It’s faint, but it feels cool against my face.”
They both looked at each other and without a word switched modes on their headlamps. The cave around them was now bathed in a soft red. It took Wood’s eyes a few moments to adjust.
“After you mother hen,” Wilkins said.
Wood moved forward and felt the air current grow stronger. Maybe another exit to the outside world was close. With any luck, it would be near the mansion.
Ahead, the path narrowed until the two walls seemed to merge. They would have to take their packs off and hold their breath to squeeze through the gap. Wood was grateful he had eaten a light dinner. It was going to be tight.
When Wood’s red light did not reveal anything but darkness through the gap, he thought they had reached the end and he hurriedly killed his light.
Behind him, Wilkins did the same. “End of the road?” he whispered.
“Let’s find out.” Wood silently lowered his pack to the ground and used his hands to guide him. He wedged his body into the crack and explored ahead with his right foot to ensure he did not fall into an abyss. The darkness was absolute. Wood began to feel a bout of vertigo.
If this opening led outside, there should be some sound. Breeze through trees, the lapping of the lake water, the insects. Goose bumps spread over his arms. He could sense an enormous space just ahead, but could not begin to guess what it might be.
For a full minute he did not move. He cocked his head sideways and listened. They might as well have been in deep space. No dripping water, no squeaks from mice. Nothing.
“I’m going to light whatever is ahead with my lamp,” Wood finally said.
“Sounds good,” Wilkins whispered, right next to his ear.
Wood shook his head. “I’m just glad you’re on my side.” He willed his heart to slow its pace and removed his headlamp from his forehead. He changed settings and then reached out, pointing the light ahead.
Behind him, Wilkins became impatient. “You’re blocking my view,” he whispered. “What do you see?”
Wood stepped forward and out of the crack. An underground cavern the size of a cathedral stretched into the distance. Massive stalactites hung from the vaulted ceiling in erratic patterns like icicles. Some were a light grey color. Others possessed rich hues of orange, green and yellow. Thick pillars with circular bases where the stalagmites and stalactites had fused into one complimented the colorful ceiling. Wood looked above him and moved sideways. A stalactite that must have weighed at least a ton hung low over him like a chandelier.
“Right when you think this can’t get any crazier,” Wilkins said, pulling up beside him. “Underground tracks.”
“What?” Wood asked.
Wilkins pointed.
Wood had been so preoccupied looking up, he had missed the train tracks about 100 feet in front of them running perpendicular to where they stood. The tracks crossed through the cavern and disappeared behind a rock formation that looked like an enormous termite hill.
“Nazi’s and their trains,” Wilkins breathed.
Wood took a step forward and tried to recall some of the information he had read about the network of trains during the height of the war. “If I remember right,” he said, “nothing was more important to the German war effort in Europe than the train network. Whenever they conquered a new country, they would immediately incorporate the existing railway system into the Deutsche Reichsbahn, the German National Railway. When Hitler moved panzer divisions on his map, those orders were carried out on the trains. Many of the Nazi high command all had personalized trains, which at the time was the luxurious way to travel. It was a status symbol for them like private yachts and planes are today.”
He paused when he thought he saw movement but realized it had come from the shadows cast by his light. “A lot of historians actually attribute the German loss in the Soviet Union to their inability to use the broad-gauge lines. As the Soviets retreated toward Moscow, they would destroy all functioning rolling stock forcing the Germans to lay their own tracks. When your forces are already fighting on three continents on a myriad of fronts, the prospect of laying 20,000 kilometers of new track across Russia to supply the war machine is daunting.” Wood stepped around a jagged rock rising from the ground. “I forget the name of the man who was put in charge of it.”
“I wouldn’t want the job,” Wilkins said as they approached the parallel tracks.
Rectangular pieces of wood had been spaced every four feet. All of them had been painted black. The gap between the rails resting on top was narrow. Wood followed the tracks with his eyes until they disappeared into another tunnel.
Wilkins knelt and scraped a spike that secured the wood to the rock. “This has been perfectly preserved,” he said. “Normally when trains have not used a section of track for a long time the metal begins to oxidize and rust. Burnt orange flakes peel off.” He inspected the rail. “These look to be in perfect working order. I wonder if the atmospheric condition of the cave helps preserve them.”
“It must,” Wood agreed. “But why would these tracks exist at all?”
Wilkins shook his head. “I have no idea. I doubt even Hitler in his extravagant opulence would order his skeleton crew to construct an underground railway so he doesn’t have to walk back and forth.”
“There must be another reason. Do you think they discovered precious metals deep inside this cave system and were mining it?”
“Maybe,” Wilkins said. His voice full of doubt. “None of it makes any sense.”
Wood looked up and down the tracks. They were so out of place. Like a highway on the surface of Mars. A sudden thought came to him. “Maybe they were built to store their own precious resources.”
Wilkins crouched down in thought. “That would make a lot more sense. Remember the contents of that room in Ciudad del Este? They were packing it all up and preparing for transport when we crashed through.” He looked around. “Maybe these tracks lead to so
me kind of vault.”
“Some kind of vault that could survive a global superstorm?”
They looked at each other. Wilkins was about to say something when he froze. His eyes darted around in a frantic manner, like a bird sensing danger.
The movement turned Wood’s blood cold. “What is it?”
“Do you hear that?”
Wood listened. He felt it before he heard it. The railway tracks he was standing on began to vibrate.
They realized what the mysterious sound was at the exact same time and hurled themselves back the way they had come. When they reached the first circular pillar, they threw themselves behind it and killed their lights.
The sudden darkness made Wood dizzy for a moment. He steadied himself against the pillar and took a few deep breaths. The noise grew louder in the confined space until Wood was forced to cover both ears. Soft light pierced the darkness and grew steadily brighter, like a time-lapse of the sunrise. He peeked around the corner. A train roared in and out of sight as it sped through the cavern. Wood blinked and it was gone.
As sudden as the earsplitting noise had appeared, it dissipated, leaving Wood and Wilkins reeling.
Wilkins swore. “That thing was moving.”
Wood opened his jaw wide and tried to clear the ringing from his ears. “I’m no locomotive expert, but that design was different than anything I have ever seen.”
“Designed for maximum efficiency within a confined space,” Wilkins said, dusting himself off. “The cars appeared to be long and narrow.” He looked toward the tracks. “Did you notice there was no smoke or exhaust of any kind? It must be electric, but I saw no overhanging wires. The tracks aren’t charged, or we would have been zapped.”
Wood set his backpack down and removed his water bottle. He closed his eyes and took a long pull. He felt the cold liquid travel through his body. “I just can’t believe there is any activity here at all. Everything we have discovered suggested that Nazis flourished here many decades ago, but that the golden age was long gone.”
“We don’t know for sure these people are Nazis,” Wilkins pointed out.
Wood looked at him. “Who else would they be?”
Wilkins raised both hands. “I’m just saying. Maybe some local farmers discovered the infrastructure the Nazis left behind and decided to utilize it.”
Wood looked incredulous. “With never before seen technology? In a vast cave system that doesn’t exist on any maps?”
Wilkins shrugged. “Aliens?”
“Danville would love to hear that theory.” Wood lifted his pack to his shoulders and pulled the straps tight. “Question is, which way do we go?” He pointed to the right. “We can continue on our south easterly course toward the mansion, which I’m certain contains a hidden entry to this cave system somewhere.” He turned and pointed to the left. “Or we follow the mysterious subterranean locomotive into the unknown.”
Wilkins looked back and forth a couple times and then pointed left. “Let us discover this mountain’s secrets. If there be gold, all is not yet lost.”
“Take what you can,” Wood proclaimed in his best pirate voice.
“Give nothing back.”
They followed the tracks until they reached the end of the cavern. The tunnel beyond looked like it had once been a natural offshoot but had since been enlarged to accommodate the train.
Wilkins looked up and whistled. “I bet the roof of the tunnel clears the top of the train by less than inch. Wouldn’t want to pop your head up for a quick look ahead.”
“I don’t think there is much space on the sides either.” Wood shined his light far ahead looking for any kind of crevasse they could squeeze into if another train came by.
“We should have had Amara Google the train schedule,” Wilkins said. “Secret underground Nazi train schedule, San Bariloche.”
“I’m sure something interesting would pop up with those keywords.” Wood looked ahead and shuddered. “If your spider sense tingles at all in here, you let me know.”
“Nothing like finding out how fast you can sprint while running from a train in a dark tunnel,” Wilkins said. “It kind of reminds me of the Kalimari Desert level in Mario Kart.”
They set out along the tracks. The conversation between them evaporated the moment they entered the confined space. Wood’s eyes continually scanned the walls for potential places of refuge. His ears listened for any signs of activity in the distance. The tunnel they followed sometimes showed signs of its former shape. Whenever the ceiling rose above the required height for the train to fit through, the bottoms of broken stalactites hung high above them. The walls were smooth where they had widened it. Different shades of grey layered on top of one another like a colorblind birthday cake.
When they reached the first open space that was wide enough to safely avoid painting the tunnel red, they pressed against the wall and rested. Their chests rose up and down with fatigue and adrenaline.
“You didn’t happen to see an eagle at the front of that train, did you?” Wilkins asked. “The trains in Germany back then normally had an eagle painted on, symbolizing national sovereignty.”
Wood shook his head. He wiped the cold sweat from his face with a finger. “I barely saw the train. You still having doubts?”
Wilkins shook his head. “Brain just working overtime in the silence.”
“How far do you think we’ve traveled since the lookout post?”
“It’s hard to gauge distance underground. We haven’t gone in a straight line.” Wilkins tilted his head both ways and cracked his neck. “I would guess we have traveled at least a mile.”
“It’s an incredible geological find if nothing else.” He gave Wilkins a wry grin. “Take the dubious history away, and we could probably talk Stalbridge into spending S.A.T.R.A. resources into mapping and studying this cave system.”
Wilkins leaned his head back against the rock. “I wonder what Stalbridge has everybody doing right now. Poor Danville probably hasn’t slept in weeks.”
“He doesn’t sleep anyways.”
“Good guy to have in a crisis though.”
Wood nodded. “I bet Stalbridge sent out ABERDEEN.”
Wilkins’s eyes widened. “You think?”
“The last time we talked to him, there was a desperation in his voice I haven’t heard for a long time. Nobody with any kind of power was taking him seriously. His political contacts were giving him the D.C. two step. His media friends all told him their ratings were already down for the year, and they were only focusing on stories that could boost them.”
Wilkins snorted. “I don’t think news agencies have ever reported news. They just feed their audience a daily dose of pessimism with a side of condescension and bias.” He picked up a rock and tossed it across the tracks. “Useless cretins.”
There was a pause as they both looked up and down the tunnel, listening for any noise at all. No need to filter out white noise when standing in the middle of the earth; any noise would attract immediate attention.
“I remember when I finished living down here after two long years in the jungle,” Wood said. “I had a layover in São Paulo, Brazil. Every single person waiting at their gate had a laptop. It blew my mind. I was off the grid for two years and the whole world had changed. When I left, everyone was on Myspace. When I got back, everyone was on Facebook.” Wood wiped his mouth and spat. There was a thin layer of dust still lingering in the air. It tasted bitter. “I can’t imagine a jail sentence spanning decades.”
Wilkins looked at him and spun his arms like a N.B.A. referee. “Wrap it up. Where are you going with all this?”
Wood gave him a philosophical look. “I just have a weird feeling that when we get out of this cave, the world is going to somehow have changed.”
Wilkins swore and hit him in the arm. “Don’t start with that stuff. Your gut feelings or intuition, whatever you want to call it is usually spot on and I already have too much on my mind to worry about that.”
They
looked both ways again like kids about to cross a busy highway and started forward again. They maintained a steady pace that was too slow to be considered running but too fast to be considered walking. The width and height of the tunnel stayed relatively uniform as they traveled deeper into the mountain. Without looking at the compass, Wood guessed they were on a north westerly heading.
Soon the tunnel made a gradual turn. Ahead of them was a straight away stretching out of the range of their headlamps. Wilkins suddenly came to an abrupt halt. Instinctively, Wood reached up and killed the light as he pulled up beside him.
Wood squinted. He thought he saw a tiny light ahead, but it was at a distance that was impossible to calculate. He dropped to his knees and pressed both hands against each rail. No vibrations. He looked at the light again. It didn’t seem to be moving or growing larger. “What do you think?” he asked.
“The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel,” Wilkins whispered.
Wood looked again. In the darkness, the tiny light played tricks with his mind. It was like trying to judge the distance of a star. The light blinked.
Bedside him, Wilkins stayed completely still. “I think people are working down there,” he said. “Moving equipment around.”
Wood shook his head. “I need to get my eyes checked.”
“Only one way to find out.”
They left their lights off and dragged their hands along opposite walls of the tunnel. The closer they got, the brighter the light grew. Shadows occasionally crossed the opening. Wilkins had been right. There was activity going on.
Their pace slowed and now Wood heard sounds echoing toward them. Large machinery and the occasional shout. Still too far away to discern any details.
“What if the Chinese paid the Argentina government to mine here?” Wilkins asked.
“Then, they will be startled to see two gringos and politely ask us to leave.”
Just then a red light began to blink rapidly at Wood’s chest level. They froze and stared at it. Wood’s mind raced. Beside him, Wilkins held his breath.