Indiana Jones and the Hollow Earth

by Max McCoy

Ulla pointed at the ridge of a dune two hundred yards behind them. A hunter was standing on top, a heavy rifle in his hands.

  "What's he carrying, a howitzer?" Indy asked.

  "Bear gun," Ulla said. "Fifty-caliber or better."

  "Like I said, that's a cannon."

  The hunter shouldered his weapon and walked down the dune. He was a big, barrel-chested man dressed in bear skins—even his hat was made of bear skin—and he had wild hair and a full, graying beard.

  "One of your Viking ancestors?" Indy asked.

  The man smiled and gestured toward the fallen bear while he chatted with Ulla.

  "He wants me to have the honor of the kill," Ulla said. She took her knife and cut off one of the bear's ears.

  "An aficionado," Indy remarked.

  Sparks blinked, and then fell to the snow, vomiting. Nothing much but water came out.

  Indy pulled him up.

  "Gentlemen," Ulla said. "I would like to present our rescuer, Captain Gunnar Erickson. He says he has been tracking this bear for most of the day, and that he was happy because he had almost decided to give up and go back to his boat—in which case he would not have gotten his trophy, and we would have lost our lives."

  "His boat?" Sparks asked excitedly. "He has a boat?"

  Ulla spoke with the man briefly in Danish, then smiled.

  "Yes, it is only a mile or so away," she said. "The boat is one of the wooden bear-hunting vessels manufactured by my father's company. Gunnar says we are welcome to the hospitality of the Berserker, although it is small and quarters will be cramped. He will understand if we prefer to go our own way."

  "Is he kidding?" Sparks asked.

  "He's trying to be polite," Ulla explained. "He knows we cannot afford to turn down his offer, but he doesn't want to treat us like beggars, either."

  "Doesn't berserk mean crazy?" Sparks asked.

  "No," Ulla said. "It means one who wears the bear shirt, one who takes the fighting spirit of the bear in battle. The word has been misunderstood for centuries."

  "Tell Gunnar that we will be delighted to accompany him," Indy said. "And please commend him on his marksmanship. "

  Ulla did as she was asked; then Gunnar replied, and she frowned.

  "The captain says he is sorry that he doesn't speak English so that he may talk man to man instead of having to communicate by way of an excitable and possibly inaccurate female."

  Indy suppressed a laugh.

  "I'm glad you find it amusing," Ulla said. "Oh, by the way—there is only one problem."

  "What's that?"

  "Gunnar's lost," Ulla said. "He's been sailing farther and farther north tracking bears, and has been following a rocky, barren shoreline where the currents don't make sense."

  "That sounds familiar," Indy said.

  "Does he have a radio?" Sparks asked.

  Ulla repeated the question in Danish.

  "No," she translated. "He doesn't trust any disembodied voice. He says he hears enough voices when he is alone anyway."

  Gunnar field-dressed his kill and loaded it on the sledge, and all of them pulled for a quarter of a mile to a spot where a dinghy was beached upside down on the ice. Indy and Sparks helped Gunnar slide the boat off the ice into the water, and when it was fully loaded, they abandoned the sledge and Gunnar began rowing through the billowing fog.

  "I hope he knows where he's going," Sparks said.

  "Of course he does," Ulla told him. "Look."

  She pointed to where a green light glowed in the mist.

  The Berserker was a twin-masted schooner with a bleached bear's skull nailed to its prow. The hull was made of South American evergreen sheathing three-inch oak planks, and the entire ship was rounded, with a flat bottom, so that it would rise upon the ice instead of being crushed by it. The decks and sides were insulated with cork and reindeer hair so the interior remained warm and dry, and for the times when the wind was not generous, in the aft hold was a six-cylinder gasoline engine to provide power.

  "She was designed after the Fram," Ulla explained as Indy helped her over the side and onto the ice-covered deck. "In the 1890s, Nansen tried to reach the Pole by letting a specially designed ship, the Fram, drift with the ice. He came very close, but did not make it. He and his ship, however, returned unscathed. This ship is about half the size of Nansen's, of course, but the principle is the same."

  "She's marvelous," Indy said. "What is she, a sixty-footer?"

  "A little less," Ulla said. "And twenty feet at the beam."

  They went below, and Gunnar began to boil water for coffee. Sparks removed his gloves and parka, then tried to take off his boots. They were a frozen mass of ice, and he had to hold them near the stove until they had thawed enough for him to undo the laces. Finally he got them off, peeled away his wet socks, and then a feeling like pins and needles in his feet quickly escalated to something that felt more like fire.

  "Aw," Sparks said, "what's happening?"

  "It's your circulation." Ulla sat down next to him and inspected one foot while Indy took the other. Sparks's feet were an angry red, and there were white spots on the ends of most of his toes, and on his soles.

  "I'm afraid you've gotten frostbitten," Indy said.

  "Am I going to lose my toes?"

  "No," Indy said. "Not unless gangrene sets in. But you don't look all that bad. I've seen worse. A little skin and flesh may slough off, though."

  "Will it grow back?"

  "Hopefully," Indy said. "Ulla, can you get us a pan of warm water? Not hot, just warm."

  "A small price to pay for being alive," Sparks said.

  "You're getting tougher," Ulla said as she drew the water.

  "I have to be to run with your crowd," Sparks said.

  She brought the pan and Sparks placed his feet in it.

  "I'll see if Gunnar has anything for the pain," Ulla said. "Then Indy and I had better look at our own feet. I'm sure they don't look any better."

  Gunnar went to the cabinet and offered whiskey or aspirin. Ulla took the aspirin and Gunnar took a shot of the whiskey before replacing it.

  "Gunnar says we can try some bear steak for dinner," Ulla told them. "He says that it is unwise for us to eat too much at once, however—one must become acclimated to the peculiar, oily flesh of the polar bear. And, he adds, bear steak is all that he's got."

  "Then bear steak it is." Indy gave the aspirin and a cup of coffee to Sparks.

  "Ugh," Sparks said. "More coffee."

  "Drink it," Indy urged. "It's warm."

  Sparks took a sip.

  "It needs about a ton of sugar," he said.

  Indy turned to Ulla.

  "Ask Gunnar about the shoreline."

  Ulla did as he requested.

  "Gunnar says you will see much of it," she said. "As it turns out, at the moment he is out of gasoline for the motor, the sails are frozen to the spars, and the Berserker is drifting at the mercy of the current..."

  10

  The Maelstrom

  Indiana Jones leaned over the ice-covered railing and stared at the dark shore shrouded in mist. The fingers of his right hand slipped inside his parka and felt the stone that was on the thong around his neck, and he thought of Baldwin.

  "It's getting warmer," Ulla observed.

  "I was thinking that myself," Indy said. "A few more degrees, and maybe we can peel the sails away from the spars."

  "And then what?" Ulla asked. "We seem to be in a dead calm. Gunnar isn't even at the wheel anymore; he's just letting the boat drift along with the current. Besides, how would we know which direction to go until we can get a glimpse at the stars?"

  Indy shrugged.

  "How's Sparks?" he asked.

  "Still sleeping," Ulla replied.

  "Good. He needs it."

  At that moment Gunnar approached, his boots pounding on the deck. He came over and leaned on the rail between Indy and Ulla. He had a knife in one hand and a piece of nearly raw meat in the other, which he offered to the couple.r />
  "No thanks," Indy said.

  Ulla took a chunk of the meat and began chewing. It was as tough as a leather boot.

  Gunnar began to talk quietly with Ulla.

  "What's he saying?"

  "Gunnar is telling me I have too much spirit to be a woman, that the gods must have made a mistake." She smiled. "He says that when the Valkyries come for the chosen ones, those who will help the Old Ones fight the last battle against chaos, I will be among them."

  "Ragnarok," Gunnar said.

  "The Doom of the Gods," Indy said. "When the bifrost bridge appears and the stars fall from the sky."

  "So you know the story?" Ulla asked.

  "I've read the Icelandic Eddas," Indy said. "And the Volsungs. When the trumpet blows announcing doomsday, the rainbow bridge that leads to Asgard, the home of the gods, will appear. The last battle with evil will take place, and then the stars will fall, and the earth will sink beneath the sea."

  "It is an interesting thought." Ulla smiled again. "Perhaps I will be there—a single woman in a legion of men, the bravest sons of the earth. I don't know which of the traditional weapons I would prefer. No sword nor ax for me. Poetry, I think, would be my weapon."

  "Poetry?" Indy looked surprised.

  "I would count each man that falls and compose a verse for him," she explained. Then she began to sing: "Wealth dies, kinsmen die, a man himself must likewise die. But one thing I know that never dies—the verdict on each man dead."

  "And each woman?" Indy asked.

  She nodded. "In my version."

  "Does it bother you being constantly compared to men?" Indy asked. "I mean, even in your religion there are only places for men. Women are either harpies who pick over the battlefields or are the barmaids of the gods."

  "But some of the most powerful gods are women," Ulla said. "It is a complex belief system. What bothers me most is the way people treat me in this life, as some kind of freak."

  "I've never thought of you in that way."

  Ulla shrugged.

  "Life is hard. The power of the gods is not eternal, Dr. Jones. It will end, as all things end. Ragnarok truly is the herald of doom."

  "Do you believe that?"

  "What do you believe?" Ulla said.

  "I think there is truth in all of the old stories," Indy said. "Most civilizations have creation myths which are amazingly similar, and there were saviors who died and were resurrected long before Christianity adopted the notion. Your god Odin wounded himself with his spear and hung for nine days on the Tree of Woe and was renewed. In the process he became the master of the runes, of reading and writing."

  "Yes," Ulla said, "but the afterlives are different. In Christianity the savior redeems the world, while in my belief system the world is unredeemable. Evil is destined to win the final battle. What matters isn't faith, but courage in the face of certain defeat. That is the only reward. After that—oblivion."

  "It is a depressing prospect."

  "Not really." Ulla looked at him, her eyes alight. "It wonderfully concentrates the mind on the moment, and gives value to our actions as momentary events, instead of bargaining chips for the next life. That is why I prefer to think of myself as an adventurer, a person of action instead of contemplation."

  Indy smiled.

  Ulla folded down her hood and gazed at him.

  "You're a handsome man," she said. "That is saying something, because I am not usually attracted by men. And I know by the way that you sometimes look at me that you think I am not unattractive, either."

  "How could I not?" Indy said. "Not only are you smart and strong, but you are beautiful as well. A very rare combination in any individual."

  "Then perhaps we shouldn't allow this moment to pass," Ulla suggested as she gripped his arm. "Sparks is asleep, and Gunnar doesn't care what we do as long as we don't sink his boat."

  She kissed him, cautiously, because their lips were still blistered.

  "Ulla." Indy touched her face. "I care for you, but in the way I care for my other friends. Your suggestion is tempting, but it would change our friendship in a way that neither of us is prepared to handle."

  "I was just suggesting an hour's pleasure," she murmured sullenly, and pushed him away. "I mean, if we're about to be sucked into this thing that your old friend said was waiting for us, why not? I wouldn't mind it. But I wasn't asking to have your babies. The very idea is revolting."

  "Well, you know I'm—"

  "I know, in love with the redheaded sybil on the Graf," Ulla said, and made a face. "You're very straitlaced, Jones. Sex must scare you a lot."

  "About as much as snakes," he snapped.

  "Scared of snakes, too? Hah! No sexual overtones there, huh? A psychoanalyst would have a field day with your head. I'll bet you can't bring yourself to eat an apple, either."

  "I like apples just fine," Indy said. "Ripe, red, juicy ones. Sometimes I have two or three a day."

  Down the rail, Gunnar was laughing.

  "I thought he didn't speak any English." Indy was clearly annoyed.

  "He doesn't," Ulla said. "He's just enjoying our fight. But maybe we ought to let him in on the discussion so he can appreciate its true richness."

  Indy looked up.

  "Shush," he said.

  "What?"

  "Engine noise."

  "Don't try to distract me."

  "I'm not," Indy insisted. "I hear something, and if you would shut up for two seconds and listen, you'd hear it as well."

  Ulla scanned the clouded sky.

  "Is it the Penguin?" she asked hopefully.

  "No," Indy said. "It's over there, off the port bow. A big shadow in the clouds."

  "The Graf," Ulla said.

  "They're searching."

  "Maybe they'll pick us up."

  "They can't even see us," Indy said. "The weather's too thick. And even if they did pick us up, they'd probably torture us before shooting us and pitching us over the side."

  "Well, it'd be better than sitting here on this little boat with you," Ulla concluded, and went to the cabin. Gunnar laughed again and patted Indy on the shoulder as he followed her down.

  The current quickened now and the Berserker was drawn inexorably into the rugged bay, where her hull bumped and ground against a dozen rocks. Gunnar and his passengers managed to push her clear each time with poles and oars, but even though they managed to save the ship, they couldn't stop her headlong rush toward the mouth of the river on the dark shore. The river was dark and wide and flowing inward, and as they drifted, the weather grew increasingly warmer and the rest of the ice fell from the decks and masts. At one point Gunnar unfurled the sails and attempted to check their progress, but there was no wind and the attempt simply made the little boat swirl dangerously in the middle of the water.

  The weather was worsening as well. The clouds became even darker, and blotted out the sun. For the first time in days they were in darkness. Up ahead they could make out the dim outlines of a smoldering red peak, but never could they get a clear view of their destination.

  "I wish I had some proper equipment," Sparks said. "A radio transmitter, or a compass that worked, or even a theodolite. I keep checking the barometer in the cabin, but it just keeps rising with the storm."

  "There's no way to fix our position?" Indy asked.

  "Not without the sun or the stars," Sparks said. "If there's no landmass under the arctic ice, then where are we? You don't have rivers running over the ice, and from what I can see of the terrain, it's solid rock. Maybe we're lost in some fjord in Norway."

  "I don't think so, Sparks." Indy patted the boy's shoulder.

  As they neared the smoky peak the river began to run faster and the clouds closed down upon them. Rain lashed over the deck and lightning streaked around them, sometimes hitting the shore and reducing a boulder to so much smoking rubble. Around the tops of the masts the eerie blue light of Saint Elmo's fire danced and bobbed.

  "This is too weird for me," Sparks commented as
he hung desperately to the rail. "My mother was right. I should never have joined the service. This isn't worth twenty-three dollars a month."

  Gunnar looked at him and nodded, understanding the sentiment intuitively but not the specific words of the boy. The captain tamped his pipe, lit it, and murmured something in Danish.

  "What'd he say?" Indy asked.

  "You don't want to know," Ulla said.

  "Come on, tell us."

  "Well, our captain believes that we're all dead," she explained. "He thinks it happened when he picked us up after killing the polar bear—he doesn't know how, exactly, but he presumes that the boat sank and we all drowned since we're still together—and that we have sunk to the netherworld."

  "In other words," Indy said, "he thinks we're in hell."

  "You got it."

  As they spoke Gunnar began distributing pieces of rope to each of them.

  "What's this for?" Indy asked.

  "He's telling us to lash ourselves to the masts," Ulla said. "The river is running too fast, and he says we are bound to be smashed to bits on the rocks at the base of the mountain, or blasted to bits by the lightning. He says the three of us can decide to jump off, if that's what we want, but he doesn't have a choice. He's the captain, and he's determined to go down with his ship."

  "Jumping off would be suicide," Sparks observed.

  "I guess it depends on your perspective," Ulla said. "It doesn't make much difference, unless you think we're still alive."

  "My vote's for alive," Indy said. "And I'm still the leader of this expedition, so that's your vote, too."

  "You've done a helluva job so far, Commander," Ulla said. "Which mast do you want?"

  Indy and Ulla tied themselves to the forward mast while Sparks secured himself to the aft one. Gunnar lashed himself to the wheel pedestal, in some vain attempt to retain control over his ship.

  The river had turned into a ribbon of whitecaps. The boat continued to pick up speed until the wind whipping through the lines made a whistling sound. The glowing mountain peak was above them now, and at any second they expected the Berserker to be dashed against the rocks.

  Indy closed his eyes against the spray coming over the bow, and Ulla squirmed uncomfortably against the ropes. Sparks began to recite the Lord's Prayer, while Gunnar gritted his teeth and chewed on the stem of his long-cold pipe.