Escape From The Center of The Earth (To The Center Of The Earth Book 3)

by Greig Beck

  Baker enlarged and used the computer program to clean up the screen.

  “Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

  There it came—the behemoth—the living god of the underworld. The monstrous being filled the sea. It was as big as a mountain, and probably much more of it not able to be seen due to the limited range of the camera. Its head was a mass of titanic coiling tentacles below a set of burning red eyes that had fixed on the tiny vessel.

  Loche couldn’t help slumping back in his seat as he beheld a creature bigger than anything that did, had, or ever would exist on the planet. Its grotesque body was lumped with crusted growths and a few bristling hairs as thick as pine trees. Swarming over its body was a horde of the smaller crab people, its minions they knew as the Y’ha-nthlei, perhaps now living on it like lice instead of in their twisted and nightmarish city.

  An icy calm came over Joshua Loche as he stared back into that hellish gaze. “Fire one. Fire two.”

  “Firing one. Firing two.” Baker pressed the launch button and both nuclear-tipped torpedos sped away.

  The man gripped his arm rests but knew being in this proximity to the blast meant they would be obliterated.

  But as the torpedos sped away from the submersible, they felt themselves stop dead in the water. Immediately, the hull groaned from enormous pressure. And then they felt themselves lifted. Higher, and higher, and then they broke free of the water.

  “It’s got us,” Croft said.

  ***

  “Oh my God,” Jane breathed out.

  As they watched the screen, they saw the leviathan rise from the red water. It was so colossal in size it scrambled their thinking just trying to process what they were seeing.

  “It’s got Abyss-2,” Miles whispered.

  As they watched, it held the tiny, fragile submarine in its huge hand, making the craft seem like a toy. Its massive tentacled mouth bloomed open but before it could swallow Abyss-2, there was a blinding light followed by a massive double-thump, and their instrument panel went blank.

  “EMP,” Miles said. “The nukes just detonated.”

  “Good,” Ally said softly.

  Seconds later, when their screens flickered back to life, they saw that the blast had struck the creature below the water line, causing it to fall back. A bloody, dark ichor filled the sea around it.

  But horrifyingly, it regained its footing and rose again, towering ever higher.

  “It didn’t kill it?” Matt’s jaw dropped. “A nuke can’t kill it?”

  “It’s too big,” Mike said. “And being bathed in the constant radiation of the core means the nuclear radiation won’t worry it either.”

  Once again, Dagon lifted the submarine up to its glaring red eyes and stared with a malevolence that was like a physical force. Below its eyes, the tentacled mass flared open, revealing a pitiless, dark hole lined with inward-curving tusks. The monstrosity held the submarine closer.

  “No, no, no…” Ally shook her head. “Please, no.”

  The trunk-like fingers of the hand closed, crushing the submarine as it was held over the thing’s mouth, and its super-reinforced hull broke in half. Jane was sure she saw several tiny bodies tumble out and fall into the dark maw.

  The entire submarine went next, and Jane knew this wasn’t done for food or sustenance, but because it wanted to totally obliterate all trace of the humans. And maybe send a message to them as well.

  “Fire, fucking fire!” Ally yelled.

  “Wait a…” Jane said.

  “Fish away.” Miles launched the nuclear-tipped torpedo.

  The mini-nuke sped toward its target, and it crossed the half-mile distance in several seconds, striking the lower body of the nightmarish creature. The blast once again whited out their instruments.

  They waited and waited, and then their screens flickered back on.

  “Oh no,” Jane said. There was a mountainous surge wave coming toward them. “It’s coming for us.”

  “Fuck you!” Ally screamed. “Prepare to fire agai—”

  “No!” Mike yelled. “Get us the hell out of here.”

  Miles looked up at her. “Orders?”

  “Ally!” Jane yelled. “Remember Loche’s final orders.”

  The woman blinked, wasting several more valuable seconds.

  “Okay, okay. Live to fight another day.” She eased back into her seat. “Set course to the gravity well and enter immediately. Full speed.”

  “On it.” Miles swung the submersible away from the approaching behemoth and the shelf-like wall of water that preceded it. He sped the submersible toward the half-mile-thick column breaching the ceiling.

  They were already close and in seconds, they passed into the hollow interior. Behind them, the wave struck. It had little effect on the column other than to give them a speed boost and in seconds, they were in the well’s gravity pull and flew upward.

  “Will it follow?” Matt asked.

  “The well is wide enough.” Ally turned to Miles. “Do you have a reading on it?”

  Miles slowly shook his head after scanning the massive column that drew them upward. “Nothing yet. Pipe is empty in both directions.”

  The submersible began to accelerate in the pull of the underwater gravity well, and the five remaining people sat in silence, waiting, and watching the instrument panel.

  After a few more minutes, they heard the sound they were dreading.

  Ping.

  “Hold everything,” Miles said.

  Ping.

  “Not good.” He shook his head.

  Ping, ping…

  “Confirmed, big bogey has entered the pipe.” He leaned forward and cursed again. “Gaining fast.”

  “How far back is it?” Matt asked.

  “Nearly a full klick,” Miles said. “But won’t be like that for long.”

  “Can we accelerate? Outpace it?” Mike asked.

  Miles nodded. “Let’s see.” He pushed the stick forward. “Maximum thrust.”

  In the gravity well, there was no sensation of any more speed, but after a moment, Miles shook his head.

  “Bogey has also increased rate of gain.” He turned to Ally, a question clear on his face.

  “We’re drawing it up with us,” Mike said.

  “Exactly what we didn’t want,” Jane added. “It’s furious… it’ll destroy everything.”

  Ally sat back. “Then we fight it or we die fighting it.”

  “Yes and no,” Matt said. “The torpedos don’t affect the thing. But what happens if we puncture the gravity well’s wall?”

  “It could kill us all,” Mike replied.

  “Or it might not. If we target properly,” Matt said.

  Ally stared for a moment. “I like your thinking, Professor Kearns—detonation behind us, and before Dagon. It might create some sort of exhaust vent in front of the monster,” she mused and then seemed to think on it for a moment more. Then…

  “Spin us in the water,” she growled. “Let’s show this big bastard our teeth.”

  Miles did as asked, swinging the submersible a full 180 degrees, allowing them to be carried backward up the well.

  “Target between us and that big asshole bearing down on our position.” She leaned forward, staring through the dark glass of the front screen.

  “Target acquired,” Miles replied.

  “Fire,” Ally said without hesitation.

  Miles carried out the order and they watched as the torpedo sped away in the blackness.

  “Impact in 3, 2, 1… brace,” Miles relayed.

  There was a blinding flash away in the distance. Then there was nothing but dark inside and out for a few moments until their instruments cleared.

  “Wait for it,” Ally whispered.

  A massive surge wave hit them, and it was like they had been thrown into a washing machine. With the wave came speed, an enormous amount of speed.

  “Jesus Christ,” Miles said. “I think the entire gravity well structure has been opened. It’s ventin
g.”

  “Could we drop?” Jane asked.

  “Forget that, is that damn thing still following us?” Mike yelled.

  Miles bobbed his head. “A lot of debris coming up, but I think we got it in front of Dagon, so he might have been caught and sealed off… or vented.” He checked his instruments. “For now, the gravity pull above us is stronger than the gravity drag below. Seems it’s sucking the remaining water to the surface.”

  They waited another 30 minutes, but nothing enormous appeared on their sonar.

  “I think we lost it,” Miles said. He checked his instruments again. “Gone.”

  “Okay, turn us around.” Ally exhaled, rubbed her face, and then pushed her wild hair back. “Let’s go home.” She slumped in her seat and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 19

  A cloudless sky, and warm, cerulean blue water—Jane had her bikini on, and she ran along the shore in the shallows with Mike chasing her. She laughed like a teenager and looked back over her shoulder to see Mike in his swim trunks gaining on her, his body smooth, tanned to honey, and well-muscled. He flashed a white grin as he caught her, grabbed her by the waist, and spun her around once before gathering her in close to his chest.

  He crushed her full and firm breasts up against himself and she looked up hungrily.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  He then prodded her arm.

  “Hey,” he said again and shook her this time.

  The beach vanished.

  “Huh?” She opened her eyes.

  Jane looked around, feeling a claustrophobic depression settle over her. They were still in a tin can under the water.

  Mike held her arm in the next seat. She blinked to clear her head and noticed that the light streaming in the porthole windows wasn’t red, or night-black, but a twilight blue.

  “Where are we?” she asked.

  “Coming up, and near the surface. The maintenance ship is on the way to our area.” He smiled. “We made it.”

  “We made it? We got away?” She began to laugh, but then choked up as her memories crowded in on her.

  Mike squeezed her hand. “Yeah, we’re out.”

  She sighed and leaned back. “Was it worth it?” she asked. “Croft, Loche, Nina, all of them?”

  Ally turned in her seat. “Damned right it was. If you hadn’t come, I’d still be there. Or be dead.” She reached out to grip Albie Miles’ shoulder. “Well done, mister.”

  Miles nodded and grinned. “All part of the service, ma’am.”

  Ally spun in her seat and reached down for her pack. She stood and crouch-walked back to the pair and then placed it in Jane’s lap.

  Jane looked up at her and then opened the pack. Inside were the bulbous leaves of the plant, about six of them from her and Valentina’s stash.

  “The cure.” Jane held one in her hand and looked up. “You kept them.”

  “I figure we’re all going to need it.” She took the bulb from Jane’s hand and held it up. “Mike here is going to work out how to cultivate it and grow it. And then we’re going to cure skin cancer.” She smiled. “And maybe make us a few billion dollars each.”

  “I’m going to buy a house somewhere high, in the mountains,” Jane said. “And never ever think about going into a cave again.”

  “But who owns the rights?” Mike asked.

  “We do.” Ally tossed the bulb to Mike. “I kinda figure this place owes me something for all I was put through. And you pair of saps have been there three times. Anyone might start to think you like it down there.”

  Jane turned to Matt Kearns. “And what about you, Matt? What will you do?”

  “Me?” Matt sat forward. “I want sunshine, blue sky, birds—I mean real birds, in the trees. And I want to go surfing.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Ally said softly.

  Matt dug into his pocket and then pulled something out, which he held up between thumb and forefinger. It was the gold coin that Mike had sent him months ago.

  He looked up at it. “I went to the middle of the Earth. And there I fought a god.” He turned to them and smiled. “How was your day?”

  EPILOGUE

  South of the Aleutian Islands, Bering Sea, far North Pacific Ocean – 6 months later

  Oof. Klaus was temporarily winded when he dropped to the deck as the 184-foot-long factory longline vessel, the Kodiak Leader, dropped into another trough among the huge swells.

  The ship’s engineer widened his stance. They had the bottom-fill nets out and were in the north Bering Sea, skirting the Aleutian Trench. The helmsman was earning his pay this day as he tried to keep them over the fishing grounds and not be dragged over the deeper water.

  Klaus gave up trying to smoke and flicked away his sodden cigarette with disgust. Their ship was the newest in the fleet and designed for longline fishing, targeting Alaskan cod and other ground fish species. But to get a good catch, they needed to fish in two hundred feet of water, and not the more than twenty-six thousand feet of the trench.

  So far, their catch had been near non-existent, which was odd for this time of year. And a ship with a capacity of 1.7 million pounds of freezer space, its own processing plant, and a crew of thirty members, was expensive and needed to bring in big hauls to pay for itself.

  Another huge swell side-swiped them with the boom of a titan’s drum, and Klaus gripped the gunwale railing with both hands. He cursed; that was the problem with these north Pacific storms—they came at you from every angle at once.

  The sodden man squinted into the beating rain and sea spray—they might as well pull in the nets as he bet his last buck they were now well out over the trench.

  He scoffed at the memory: never go over the trench, the old fishermen used to mumble over their flat beers in the well-traveled bars that stank of ale, fish, and ancient pipe smoke.

  Klaus gripped the gunwale and peered over the side. The water over the Aleutian Trench was iron-grey, freezing, and whipped up with flicking horse tails; there was nothing down there worth catching, not that he would know.

  Klaus carefully made his way back to the external metal door when he heard the net winches start to be hauled in—about time, he thought.

  Then with a massive tug, the man was thrown to the sea-slippery deck.

  What the hell? he thought as he scrambled to his hands and knees. Klaus looked one way then the other. The net winch screamed with a sound he had never heard before, and frighteningly, the huge ship suddenly went stern down.

  For several seconds, he was bewildered as to what was happening. And then it hit him; the Kodiak Leader had been stopped dead in the water. No, not just stopped—dragged backward.

  Water exploded over the stern gunwale, as every rivet, steel plate, or thing not tied down, was being thrown about or shaken to pieces.

  Maybe they netted a Russian sub, he wondered. They were close to the Komandor Islands, so it wasn’t without precedence to see Russian fishing or even military vessels in the area.

  Finally, with a sound like monstrous guitar strings snapping, the net cables broke and lashed back at the ship like bullwhips. The ship bounced back to its position and even the wind and storm seemed to have calmed for several moments as if it was holding its breath.

  The silence was broken by a sound like a base-deep moan that seemed to come from Hades itself, and Klaus climbed to his feet and looked over the side.

  He wished he hadn’t.

  Eyes, huge eyes, each the size of a Mack truck, were staring up at them. And worse, they were coming up.

  Never go over the trench, the old fishermen used to whisper.

  Now he knew why.

  END

  Read on for a free sample of The Forgotten Fortune: An Archaeological Thriller.

  Unverified reports tell of a hidden treasure trove deep beneath the Owl Mountains in Poland. Many have tried, but all have failed to locate the legendary Nazi gold train.

  PROLOGUE

  Mosul, Iraq

  2016

  After two
years of ISIS occupation, American military forces launched a joint operation with the help of French, Kurdish, and Iraqi troops to retake the city of Mosul and forcibly expel the threat. It was a well-coordinated and precisely executed offensive, one that turned the tides in the war on terror.

  The late-night air was crisp and dry, and the full moon was high in the sky. If he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder, expecting to be ambushed at any moment, Jack Reilly would’ve stopped, closed his eyes, and enjoyed the soft breeze being funneled in through the pitch-black alley.

  “Go,” he said softly, getting his fellow Delta operators moving.

  He and three other soldiers bolted across the street, following closely behind Jack. He led them up the short flight of stairs to the two-story home’s front door and kicked it in. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he removed the partition entirely from its hinges.

  I guess they don’t make ’em like they used to.

  “Contact!” he shouted, snapping his M4A1 carbine to the left. He sent a quick three-round burst into the chest of the living room’s single occupant. Unfortunately, the armed man wasn’t who they were there for, but he was another high-value target worth getting rid of.

  Rifles forward, the four specialists entered the domicile and quickly cleared the first floor. Their intelligence stated that this particular residence was being used as a safe house for a key player within the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria hierarchy, Qasem Azrael, as well as the man’s six children. He routinely traveled with them, using them as armed guards as well as his living body armor. Nothing was off-limits to Azrael.

  “Friggin’ savage,” Jack muttered, stepping lightly.

  All of them had been seen entering the building ten minutes ago, along with the man Jack just killed.

  The household was divided into five rooms; one common area, a small kitchen, and four bedrooms, two of which were upstairs. The team’s intel also said that there could be a secret basement entrance on-premise. That was the operators’ goal.

  All was quiet.