by Greig Beck
“Yeah, interesting.” Michael stared down into the darkness, inhaling the smells of ancient, dry earth. “There’s over 8 miles of known cave down there, and just remember, it’ll take them and us four days to get to the sump pool level.” He straightened. “And we’ve got the better team.”
“Damn right we do,” Andy said. “Let’s do this.”
“Equipment check, and then we drop,” Jane said.
The team set about the last check on their gear, placing their headband lights on sleek helmets that molded to the shape of their heads. They had equipment belts on which hung carabiners, pins, eyehooks, and other equipment. Also, each had a small holster with a bolt gun—that fired a metal, self-anchoring expansion bolt into solid rock that an eye-nut could be attached to for threading rope through. Michael had insisted they all take one with them, and also spare cartridges.
Everything else was placed in slim packs—one on their back and one on their chest.
Lastly, they stepped into their climbing harnesses—contraptions that fit over each thigh and went around their waist. At the front was a set of rings that they could use to thread rope through and also to make dangling a lot more comfortable.
Jane was last to slide her pack back over her shoulder and the smaller one on her chest. She fastened the tough material down hard.
Michael turned her around, checking her over. “Looking good, nice and tight.”
“You’re talking about my pack, right?” She grinned up at him.
“Yeah, that too.” Michael grinned as he tugged a strap a little tighter on her.
Jane rotated her shoulders, feeling loose and limber. She knew that everything they took needed to be light and thin, as some of the squeeze points were little more than a single foot wide, so anything bulky just wasn’t going to make it with them.
“Andy, you’re up.” Michael peered into the hole. “Right there.” He took one of his loops of rope from his shoulder and reached down. But then paused. “Even better, it’s already roped up for us.”
Jane and the group watched as Michael checked the rope and the hanging ring attached to a bolt sunk into the rock. “All good. Looks like it’s been replaced recently.”
Many cavers left equipment—some good, some just rubbish—but strong and secure hooks were always appreciated.
Andy threaded the rope through the carabiner and the ring at the front of his harness. He then wrapped it around his hand and let one end dangle down into the darkness.
“Banzai!” he yelled as he dropped fast.
There was the sound of the rope zizzing through the drop equipment. His helmet light got smaller, and then he stopped to hang about 100 feet down.
“More ropes down here, and they look just fine.” There was the sound of jangling equipment. “Gonna rig up on the new ones and drop some more, so rope is free for the next one of you guys.”
“I’ll go.” Jane threw a leg over the small brick wall.
In seconds, she had rigged up and looked up at Michael. “See ya on the dark side.”
She stepped back and then let the rope slide through the rings and her hand. The Valtek rope they had obtained was a dream; it had slight elasticity so if you had to pull up suddenly you didn’t get bruised from the stop. Plus, it was strong enough to basically lift a baby elephant.
She quickly came to where Andy had crossed to the next set of rings and did the same. In another few minutes, she came to the first pitch, or landing site, about 200 feet down.
Andy was waiting for her. He pointed.
“They went thatta way.”
She nodded. “Could you hear anything?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. It means they’ve got to be at least 6 to 10 hours ahead of us.”
“Crap. Michael’s gonna be pissed.” She knew how focused the guy could get, and she didn’t want him trying to move at breakneck speed to run Harry Wenton down. Though she had never been to the Krubera Cave, she’d heard plenty of stories of people having accidents in here, and the consensus was that it was for expert-level speleologists only.
One after the other, the team dropped to the pitch and assembled.
“Only about 7,000 feet more to go.” Michael grinned and looked around. He inhaled, smelling the rich scent of ancient stone and mystery. “Where we are going wasn’t known until the ‘70s. At the time Katya and her team finally made it to the bottom, they were the first.” He turned. “Or second, if we count Arkady Saknussov.”
Angela shone a small flashlight on her wrist around the cave floor, and then upward. “I read that it was littered with bones when it was first found.”
“It was.” Michael watched her lightbeam for a moment. “Lots of animals fell in here: dire wolves, small antelope, and even some early humans. But even if the fall didn’t kill them, there was no way out.”
Andy was also looking up. “Hey, question.”
“Shoot,” Jane said.
“What happens if the authorities come back and decide to fix the lock and chain?” He slowly lowered his gaze to Jane.
“Oh my God, I didn’t think of that.” Angela chuckled a little nervously. “Could that actually happen?”
“Welcome to our new home.” David grinned. “Don’t sweat it—we’ll just have to evolve into mole people.”
Michael continued to look up toward the light high above them. “I doubt they’ll be back any time soon. But even if they did lock us in, have you ever seen what a bolt gun can do to a brick wall? Don’t worry about it.”
Michael did a last check on his GPS, and then pointed to the darkness beyond them. “Ronnie, you’re our best point man. Take us in.”
*****
Krubera Cave’s small and almost invisible opening on the surface was why it was only recently discovered, but Michael could now also see why the caves were never penetrated very far until by professional cavers only a few decades ago.
The going was tough, and not at all like how caves were portrayed in movies where people walked through wide tunnels with flat floors, over natural bridges, and entered caverns with high roofs and magnificent stalagmites rising like snow-covered trees from the cave floor or stalactites hanging from the ceiling like giant dagger teeth.
The Krubera was more rift tear, where the mighty plates of the Earth had been torn asunder. Maybe that was why it was so deep. But the hard and sharp stone passages made for tough going.
Some walls pressed in close with little more than a foot of width to wriggle through for hundreds of feet. Then there were the squeeze points—holes in the ground, wall, or ceiling that needed to be inched through while pushing or pulling your equipment along behind you.
The best way to enter the tiny holes was feet first. If, for whatever reason, you got stuck, it was easier to backtrack if you didn’t have to do that in reverse.
The group had been traveling for an hour on a vertical plane before they came out of a narrow cleft and stood on a ledge. Ronnie held up a hand and then put a finger to his lips. The group quietened and even held their breath as they listened.
After another moment, Michael heard it: the soft clang of a steel carabiner against stone, and perhaps also the sound of scraping. It was faint, and a long way away, but it was there.
“They’ve a good lead on us, but we’re not out of the game just yet.” Michael walked to the end of the ledge and shone his light down and then along the rift walls. Where they had gathered was on the edge of a cliff face that was a giant tear in the rock.
His light could never hope to extend all the way to the next pitch, which he understood was some 500 feet straight down. He leaned out and found the bolt and hanger waiting for them, plus existing ropes. “Okay, over we go.”
Ronnie led them down, and from a caving perspective, this was the easy stuff, as straight drops meant no obstacles.
It took them less than 20 minutes to be gathered at the bottom. Now at about 1,000 feet down, the cave smelled of dry, ancient dust and the sharp odor of cold rock.
; To one side of them were the remains of an ancient fire, where earlier cavers had decided to heat their coffee or simply take a break with more illumination. There were also small piles of white powder and exploded metal jackets.
“Carbide batteries.” Michael saw the small note written beside it in Russian. He grinned and translated. “We do not shit in your house, so please do not shit in our cave.” He turned. “Can’t argue with that.”
These days, most professional cavers were pretty responsible and brought piss bottles, and even plastic bags to take a dump in, so they could take it all back out with them. But many cavers lived on high-protein, low-fiber food before entering a cave and while down below on an extended adventure, some of them could even hold it for a week. That meant the first thing they did when making it back to civilization was run to the crapper and drop a log the size of a loaf of bread.
“Let’s go. And we keep it as quiet as possible.” Michael held out an arm. “Ronnie, lead us in.”
For the next few thousand feet, Michael and his team made good time. So far, they were simply following ropes, chimneys, and known squeeze points, but he knew that the first teams in to explore had to explore, test, and then backtrack out of a lot of dead ends. It might have taken them days to travel a few hundred feet in the right direction.
After 12 hours of descending where they needed to squeeze through slits in the solid rock and crawl on their bellies, Michael finally decided he would call a halt for the day. There was rougher terrain ahead, and fatigued cavers, no matter how experienced, made mistakes. And mistakes a few thousand feet below ground could be deadly.
They came into a chamber roughly 40 feet around that had some natural shelving for them to stretch out. They lit small propane stoves to make some coffee and had a meal of applesauce and dried beef.
The spirits of the group were high, and enthusiasm still burned in all their eyes. Good, Michael thought, as where he hoped they were going was going to test every one of them 10 times over.
Jane had her mat laid out next to his, and their packs would be their pillows. If possible, they’d try and snatch a good six hours sleep.
As they lay there, Angela and Andy had popped earphones in, but their differing tastes in music still leaked out to permeate the tomb-like silence of the cave.
Jane lay on her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. “Hey.”
Michael lifted his head. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I was thinking.”
“Oh no.” He grinned.
She flicked some gravel at him. “Seriously.”
“Okay.” He straightened his face. “What’s on your mind?”
“You remember what Katya told us about where she had been? Did you believe all of it? Really?” Her gaze was direct.
Michael turned on his side and rested his head on one hand. “I don’t exactly know what was real and what was brought about by some sort of psychosis from lack of food and water…and also the terror of being lost for a year below ground. Plus, a hundred other things she might have experienced down there.”
“She said, ‘Down there were wonders—an entire ocean under eternal day with strange red light. Mushrooms as big as trees, and crystals the size of buildings.’ And then she said, ‘But there were also monsters.’”
He nodded, waiting.
“That’s crazy.” She snorted softly. “You said yourself before we met her that they thought she was insane.”
“She was certainly damaged by the experience,” he said. “But let me put something to you.” He rolled over and edged a little closer so he could lower his voice.
“The Earth is over 4.5 billion years old. And over those billions of years, it has been struck numerous times by significant asteroid strikes. Some so big, that one of them blasted enough material from our planet to create the moon. Another wiped out all the dinosaurs. Imagine that one was so significant that it cracked the planet’s mantle and the ocean poured in. By then, the magma core was shrinking and water stayed there. Above it, the cracks in the planet healed over from the heat of the blast, cauterized and fused shut like a wound.”
“Sounds a little like a science fiction movie from the 1950s.” She smiled.
He continued. “Now, say that the magma core is sheathed in thousands of feet of volcanic glass, holding it from the ocean and the land that exists on the inside of the mantle—the sky at the core is down, and the land up. The glass also shields the world down there from much of the heat.” He smiled. “Tell me, Miss Biologist, what color would the sky be if it was magma behind glass?”
She grinned and her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Gold, orange…red.”
“Correct. And now consider that the primordial life that entered with the ocean water now found a new warm environment to evolve and grow in.” He smiled, as she looked skeptical. “Come on, Jane, you’re basically a scientist. Never say never.”
“Okay, we know concurrent evolution can occur. So I’ll concede it is possible, if everything happened like you said. But the odds of that are millions or billions to one.”
“Many evolutionary biologists say the odds of life springing up on Earth were said to be billions to one.” Michael smiled and lay back down. “And yet, here we all are.”
*****
Just five hours later, Michael opened his eyes. He was mentally alert, but the muscles in his thighs and shoulders screamed from all the physical strain. A day of caving delivered the same physical exertion as running a full marathon. After another day, he’d get used to it, but for now, he just had to deal with the pain.
It was always disorientating waking up in complete darkness, and in a cave, you lost night, day, and all time orientation. They would need to remember to take Vitamin D to ensure their muscles stayed in shape.
He checked his watch—it was 4pm in the afternoon—but it didn’t matter anymore. They had several more days of descent before they arrived at the sump pool. Or where Katya said the pool had drained away. Unfortunately, he didn’t think he’d be there before Harry Wenton and his team.
While he urinated into a bottle, he tried to think who it was that would have accompanied him—the guy certainly had a wide circle of friends, supporters, and assorted hangers on. Most rich people did.
After another moment, he gave up; he had suspects, but way too many. He’d find out soon enough. And then what? What exactly would or could he do? He alone had Katya’s notebook and the keys to finding his way down.
He doubted Wenton even knew about the drained sump and might have only been racing to the bottom of the Krubera Cave to claim the million bucks and the bragging rights. Michael hoped so. He’d happily let him have it, and then wave him goodbye as Wenton and his team headed back up.
But what if they found the extra cave? Michael finished pissing, zipped up, and screwed the cap back on the bottle. He couldn’t stop the guy from doing what he enjoyed doing. And for that matter, what would happen if Wenton tried to tag along with them?
He sat back down next to his pack. If Wenton wanted to tag along, then in that case it’d be clear-cut: Mr. Harry Wenton would be joining the Monroe expedition, and not vice versa.
Beside him, Jane made a little snuffling sound in her sleep, and he looked across at her, making sure his light didn’t shine directly on her face. He was glad she came because out of all of them, he trusted her the most. And he had to admit—he liked her, a lot.
She opened her eyes a crack and rubbed her face.
“Good afternoon, sleepyhead.” He reached across for her water bottle that had rolled a few feet from her and handed it to her.
“Afternoon? Oh yeah, right.” She took the water and pushed herself upright. She grimaced and looked around. “Times like this, I wish I had a dick.”
Jane rummaged in her pack for her piss bottle and special cup that allowed her to wee into it.
“Back in a minute.” She rose and walked a few feet away from the group, becoming invisible in the darkness.
In a few more
minutes, the others began to rise, small lanterns came on, and coffee was prepared.
Michael would give them a minute or two to gather themselves and then he’d call them in for a cave meeting. It was his responsibility, even this early in the expedition, to check on the physical and psychological well-being of the group. If need be, he could cancel or task one of them to assist an ill caver back to the surface if they were mobile enough.
Even though Michael’s muscles ached, and his throat and eyes were gritty and dry, inside he burned with curiosity and excitement. If he could run all the way down, he’d do it in a blink.
Michael turned his flashlight to where they’d proceed next. The cavern they were in shrunk to a choke point no more than 16 inches or so wide. Running wasn’t exactly an option, and probably wouldn’t be until they resurfaced into the light. And for now, Michael had no idea when that would be.
CHAPTER 06
Harry Wenton was first into the sump chamber and pushed his helmet back on his forehead to wipe his slick brow.
Almost immediately, his team came out of the narrow rift opening and spread to either side of him.
“Maggie.” Wenton walked forward.
“Yo.” The young woman eased up close to him.
“We’re at the bottom, right?” he asked.
The group gathered around him.
“Yep.” She checked her stratigraphic plotter. “Registering a depth of 7,221 feet, and 11 inches exactly.” She flicked her eyebrows up. “This is it, alright.”
“Well?” He pointed at the empty basin. “What’s wrong with this picture?”
Maggie Harper looked past him and then frowned.
Wenton turned to her. “Those expensive maps you had me buy said that this is where the sump pool is supposed to be.”
She walked a few paces forward. “What the hell?” She turned. “Jamison.”
The gangly youth put his hands on his hips. “This is it. We came the right way. No question.”
“Well, work it out.” Wenton sat on a pile of broken rock and took out a pack of cigarettes. From a caving perspective, smoking in a deep pristine cave was one of the cardinal sins of speleology. But then again, he was pissed off. And also, rules were for other people.