Enter the Core

by Peter Lerangis

  “This was what Verne wanted,” Max said. “A way to get the serum distributed to the world.”

  “Verne should have died after Gaston shot him,” Bitsy explained, “but for the serum. For the latter part of his life, Verne committed himself to making more of it. He wanted this universal cure for sickness to be available to the world.”

  “But Verne limped for the rest of his life after he was shot,” Max said. “And Gaston was committed to an institution.”

  “The limp was a pretense,” Bitsy said. “If Verne walked effortlessly, people would want to know why. It would arouse suspicion before he could succeed in his mission. He also struggled with great guilt. It seemed he had used all the serum on his leg, leaving none for his dear, demented nephew. His research led him to seek out Saknussemm. After many visits to the so-called center of the Earth, they discovered that the serum, when added to water of a certain salinity, would propagate. So they planned to pour it into the vast green sea, thinking it connected under the continents and would carry the healing to the whole world.”

  “The thing was,” Bitsy said, “the great sea was a closed system. It connects to nothing. So Verne refrained from doing anything with it.”

  “So the sea down here is just . . . water?” Alex asked.

  Bitsy nodded. “Saknussemm claims it is entirely free of the serum.”

  “Life was dangerous for Verne in this place, with so many of these evolutionary mutations prancing around,” Niemand went on. “Cavemen and flying monkeys and such. Naturally there were fights. Some of the serum got into the hands of these creatures. Many of them possessed rudimentary intelligence, thank goodness. Saknussemm believes they still use some of it to benefit their sick.”

  “They do,” Alex said. “They gave it to Brandon.”

  “Bully for Brandon,” Niemand said. “Well, needless to say, they began to discover the side effects. The serum slowed the body’s aging mechanism—it destroyed the marker that signals the end of life. In curing disease, the curious side effect was eternal life. Which, as you can see, is a curse so hideous that Saknussemm decided to hide here forever. Verne and Saknussemm grew reluctant to propagate the serum.”

  “Even after, at long last, they did find the channel to the great connecting sea,” Bitsy added. “The passage that would indeed take the serum into the world’s water system. And it is here.”

  “Here in this grotto?” Max said.

  Bitsy nodded. “But there was one slight problem. That.” She pointed across the lagoon toward the carved boulder. “It was a shapeless rock back then. According to the notes left in the Hetzel documents, the rock shuts off the passage downward into the great connecting water source. The channel is bone-dry. Somehow the rock has stayed put despite eons of volcanic explosions, shifting plates, the actions of geysers all around, the forming of an underground sea.”

  Niemand turned toward the metal door. “Behind this is a healthy stash of good, old-fashioned trinitrotoluene. Also known as TNT. It was gathered over time, stored in this locker. And, of course, it was never used. Until now.”

  Kristin looked at him with disgust. “That’s your plan—to turn people into living skeletons?”

  “To heal people,” Niemand scoffed. “The way Max’s dear mother was healed. It’s the twenty-first century, dear girl. My scientists will have this serum analyzed on a molecular level in no time. They will make the necessary adjustments. People will discover the disastrous side effect of the serum. They will demand a way to control it—and I will have the answer. I can see a customization of life span. Want to live ninety years, a hundred fifty? Your choice! So you see, children, we cannot let hesitation block progress. Climate is changing. Our days on the Earth are numbered. We need twenty-first-century solutions.”

  “Work is already underway for alternate environments,” Bitsy added brightly. “Beautiful enclosed underwater Niemand Cities. We believe all of humanity will be clamoring to live in them.”

  “Think of the possibilities,” Niemand said. “Contests for entry, sponsorships, tiered membership fees! At platinum level, our premiere offer, choose your length of life!”

  “That,” Brandon said, “is the most idiotic thing I have ever heard.”

  “And who would rule over this empire?” Alex asked. “King Spencer?”

  “It does have a ring, I must admit,” Niemand said.

  Niemand drew back with his hammer and smacked the door again, hard. It clanged hollowly, and he let out a gasp of pain. “Gaaaaah, they knew how to make them then,” he said, shaking out the pain from his hand.

  “Papa, we can destroy the rock with our own explosives,” Bitsy said.

  Niemand gave a dubious glance toward the sculpted rock. “Our little stash doesn’t carry much firepower.”

  “We have enough,” Bitsy said. “We’ll plant them strategically. It should weaken the rock. If it doesn’t work, then we try to get the TNT.”

  “You are nothing if not practical, my dear,” Niemand grunted. He raised an eyebrow at Max, Alex, Brandon, and Kristin. “You four work on the door, just in case. And don’t even think of trying to stop us.”

  “We’re not working for you,” Brandon said.

  As Brandon moved toward him, Niemand pulled a small gun from his pocket. “This is an open-carry grotto. Now do as I say, or this time you’ll really be dead.”

  Niemand tossed one of his pellets toward the door, underhanded. It landed about four feet in front of it and exploded. Max jumped, nearly dropping over the ledge. For a moment the grotto was filled with smoke. From inside the door, Max could hear something fall.

  But when the air cleared, the door looked exactly the same, except for a small, black dent.

  “Are you nuts?” Brandon said.

  “Papa,” Bitsy said. “There’s TNT inside!”

  Niemand smiled. “I am a ballistics expert, my dear. That was enough power to shock, not damage a door like that. But as I’m sure you can imagine, small as they may seem, our explosives still will have a very bad effect on any human being who decides not to be a team member.”

  “Snaefellsjökull is a seismically unstable area, Mr. Niemand,” Kristin said. “Using that, that . . . whatever it is, would not be wise.”

  Grumbling, Niemand took his daughter’s hand. Max watched them scurry to the other side of the grotto, climbing over rocks and scrub brush to get to the sculpted rock. “Get to work!” Niemand shouted.

  Max turned. He could see Alex, Brandon, and Kristin staring at the door’s handle, which Max had been hiding from Niemand’s sight. It had bent from the impact of the explosives. But there was no keyhole underneath it, only a deeply indented pattern:

  “Lásabrjótur,” Kristin whispered, clutching the talisman that hung around her neck.

  Max nodded. “The lock breaker, right?” he whispered back. “It allows the bearer to open any lock without needing a key.”

  “Should we open it?” Brandon asked.

  “Absolutely not,” Alex replied. “Throw the talisman away, Kristin. We can’t let Niemand get at these explosives.”

  Kristin nodded. They all looked over their shoulders toward the Niemands. Carefully Kristin lifted the chain from her neck.

  “Use it,” a low, guttural voice hissed.

  She stopped cold. “Brandon? That’s not funny.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” Brandon replied.

  Max shook his head and looked at Alex. Her face was a great big no too. Together they turned toward the door. “Is someone . . . ?” Alex said

  “Use it now!” the raspy voice continued from behind the door. “Come, come, stop wasting time. There’s not much oxygen in here. I don’t know how much longer I have . . .”

  The four kids exchanged a glance. Brandon gulped hard. “Should we do it?”

  “Are you kidding?” Kristin said. “It sounds like a trap.”

  “We’re already in a trap,” Alex pointed out.

  “Please hurry . . .” the voice groaned.


  “Who are you?” Max asked, but there was no response. “We have to help him!”

  “Let’s do it,” Alex agreed. “Really, what do we have to lose . . .”

  Shaking, Kristin took the talisman from around her neck, inserted it into the plate, and twisted it hard.

  The lock clicked, and the door swung open.

  40

  THE light from the chamber did not penetrate deeply into the room.

  All Max could see was a stack of rotted wooden crates, some of them still faintly labeled TNT. The placed smelled of mold, mildew, dead animals, and something vaguely rotten and sweet.

  “H-H-Hello?” Max called out.

  “Yesss . . .” a voice hissed from the darkness.

  Surprised, Max screamed, turned, and bolted for the door with Alex and Kristin behind him—only to run straight into Niemand, who was already at the entryway. A grin stretched across his face as he leveled his gun at them. “Not so fast,” he said. “I have good news.”

  They all stopped short. “Um . . .” was all Max could manage.

  “Looks like our little stash of explosives may be sufficient for the job at hand, after all,” Niemand continued. “We have a few more minutes of work to do. Of course, Bitsy and I will have to return to the surface for a moment. Wouldn’t want to suffocate while the shards and dust clouds fill the room.”

  “S-S-Somebody . . .” Alex gulped. “A person. Is in there. Behind us.”

  “Oh?” Niemand walked toward them, forcing them back into the room. “I hear those Neanderthals like to explore.”

  “We did what you wanted,” Max said. “Now let us go.”

  “Nonsense, one good turn deserves another,” Niemand said. “I wouldn’t want any of you to suffer from smoke inhalation either. What a convenient shelter this is. Better safe than sorry!”

  And with a quick step backward, he slammed the door shut, trapping the four explorers inside.

  “No!” Max shouted, banging against the inside of the door.

  Brandon struggled to pull the latch, but it wouldn’t move. “Let us out!” Alex screamed.

  An answer came from deep inside the room. “Do not worry. You have the talissssman.”

  All four of them stopped moving, as if every nerve in their bodies had been twanged and then pinched shut.

  “Who are you?” Max said.

  “Where are you?” Alex asked.

  “Jjrrreeep,” Kristin squeaked, too frightened to form a word.

  “We do not have much time,” the voice replied.

  The sound was reedy and small, more breath than voice.

  “Saknussemm?” Brandon said. “Did you sneak down here?”

  Max could hear a rustling of fabric in the darkness . . . a click. Then a beam of light shot across the room. Alex was holding a flashlight in her hand, scanning the walls. Stacks of wooden crates created shadows, and cobwebs hung from the domed stone roof like forgotten piñatas from some long-ago party.

  Except one of the piñatas moved. It wasn’t a cobweb at all.

  Alex focused the beam on the wispy shape of a man. His skin was papery-thin like Arne Saknussemm’s, but he seemed shorter, with a wiry cluster of white whiskers that hung from his chin clear down to his chest. A ripped tunic hung open over his chest, and the outline of a tiny shriveled heart beat beneath the surface of the nearly transparent skin. He was more mummy than man, but his eyes were wide open and his pupils were a sickly amber color. A pair of lips like old rubber bands began to twitch. “You . . . are not . . . afraid?” he whispered.

  “N-N-N—” Alex stammered.

  “I am,” Brandon said.

  “Your names?” the ghostly man asked.

  “A-A-Alexandra,” Alex said.

  “Kristin.”

  “Brandon.”

  But Max was staring closely at the mummy-man’s face. The cheekbones were high, the white hair on the chin thick and unruly.

  Max felt like he’d met him before.

  “D-D-Do you want last names too?” he asked. “I’m Max Tilt, and my cousin’s full name is Alexandra Verne.”

  Max saw a twitch in the mummy-man’s face. His forehead squinched, and a piece of it flaked off like old cellophane tape. “Alexandra,” he rasped, cocking his head at Alex. “Sssssuch a beautiful name.”

  “Sir . . .” Alex said in a tiny voice, “those people are trying to blow up this lagoon. We don’t know who you are, but—”

  “My condition has made me unrecognizable, I know,” the man whispered. “But I can ssssee, even across the generationsss, that you are a Verne.”

  Alex brought her hand to the side of her face, as if to keep it from exploding. “Oh . . . no . . . no . . .”

  “Pleased to meet you. I’ve spent much time in this grotto, but I am not used to vissssitors. I thought I could duck out of sight into this closet, but voilà, you found me.” The mummy-man thrust forward a skeletal hand. “You may call me Jules—Jules Verne.”

  41

  “PICK. Me. Up. Off. The. Floor,” Alex whispered.

  Max’s head felt like it would rocket off his neck and into space.

  It was him. Max had known it. It was impossible and totally exhilarating. “OK, I got who you were,” Max said to the talking corpse. “But you died. In France. There’s a grave and everything.”

  “And in front of it, a statue of a body burssssting out of the ground,” Verne replied with a rattling sound that Max guessed was a laugh. “Sssubtle hint about what had happened to me, n’est-ce pas? I was already in Iceland when they lowered the empty casket.”

  “That’s another thing,” Alex said. “You’re speaking English to us.”

  “Jules Verne was French,” Brandon said. “Even I know that.”

  “Saknussemm and I brought many books to our new home,” Verne said. “We are both rather fluent in German, Greek, Urdu, Hindi, Zulu, Russian, Ssssspanish, Basque, and most of the Scandinavian languages. We hoped, sssomeday, to return. But it was not to happen.”

  Max stared at the old man. In his mind, he superimposed the face of the portrait from his family’s living room. It fit him like a mask. “Your clues were awesome,” he said. “Especially Levi Hek. Not to mention The Lost Treasures. And because of you, my mom’s life was saved. And also my friend Evelyn.”

  “Ah, thank you, how exciting is the work of Louis Braille!” he said. “And mon Dieu, The Lost Treasures! I trust you found the chest and were duly rewarded? And that inflation has not made the contents worthless?”

  Alex smiled. “We did really, really well, thank you. That guy out there with the white streak in his hair, Spencer Niemand? He tried to stop us. He’s descended from your old nemesis Captain Nemo. He’s putting explosives into cracks in the sculpture of Kristin’s great-great-great-grandfather—your pal, Arne Saknussemm. To release the serum into the world’s water supply and then claim credit for curing the world of disease. It’s part of a crazy plan that involves underwater cities and political power—”

  “That electric lamp,” Verne said, creaking forward to the stacks of crates. “Do you have more?”

  Max and Kristin each pulled flashlights out of their backpacks.

  “Voilà.” Verne gestured to the stack nearest the door. “You must move these assssside. But leave the last box. Quickly. Vite! Don’t worry. They are . . . how do you say? Duds. We neutralized the explossssives years ago. When we decided to kill our plan. And banish ourselves to the underworld.”

  Brandon was first to move into action. He lifted three crates and moved them to a corner of the room.

  As Alex grabbed onto a crate, she smiled at Verne. “That was brave of you, and selfless.”

  “Saknussemm was the one who convinced me to kill the project,” Verne said. “He was right. I would not wish thissss on anyone. Nor on a ssssociety that must deal with a population that lingersss forever. Out of gratitude to my colleague, I carved that boulder into his likenesssss.”

  Max, Kristin, and Alex cleared out the crates as he spoke
, until there was one left. “You told us to leave the last,” Brandon said.

  “Yes.” Verne’s head creaked up and down in a nod. “I never thought I’d sssay this, but it is time for the endgame.”

  Max and Alex both stared silently, curiously, at the old man. “Endgame?” Max said. “That sounds scary.”

  Verne gestured to the remaining box. “Open that,” he said. “It contains a fail-safe. I have not felt the need to use it. Perhaps I have been too sssscared.”

  Cautiously Alex and Max leaned over the box and pulled off the lid. Inside, lying diagonally, was a thick metal pipe with a pump handle. “What the heck—?” Max said.

  “Lift it out,” Verne said. “And then kick the crate aside, please.”

  As Brandon held onto the pipe, Alex moved the crate with her foot. Embedded in the stone floor underneath were three circles of metal, one inside the other. Max knelt and ran his fingers over the cool surface. The outer circle was only about three or four inches in diameter. He was able to squeeze his hand in the center and dig out a layer of cobwebs. Under it was a hole that went deep into the ground.

  “It’s a kind of pipe,” Max said.

  “A gassssket,” Verne said. “Please insert the pipe into it. And turn clockwise.”

  Brandon lifted the pipe over the metal rings and set it down. It fit perfectly. He twisted it into place with a deep click.

  “What is this thing?” Max asked.

  “A detonator,” Verne said.

  “Wait,” Max shot back. “I thought the whole point was not to blow up the boulder.”

  “You must trust me,” Verne said. “Use the talisman. Open the door.”

  With quivering hands, Kristin inserted the talisman into a slot on the inside of the door and swung it open slowly. Across the lagoon, the sculpted rock was studded with small black explosives. Niemand and Bitsy were dumping the vial of serum into the water below.