by David Cline
After she had crawled in pitch blackness for a minute, she extracted her phone and turned on the flashlight. The tunnel had widened. There was enough room for her to walk if she hunched over. Hundreds of spider webs crisscrossed the upper corners. Little dark shapes scurried to hide as she approached. She held out the backpack in front of her to help clear the way. She muffled a scream when a rat the size of a cat scurried between her feet and ran back toward the fading voice that continued its unrelenting assault.
Light appeared ahead of her. She quickened her pace and prayed for an easy exit into fresh air and freedom. Her lower back ached with a fire that screamed. A thick metal grate blocked her exit. She knelt and looked through the rusty metal. Beyond some shrubs obstructing her view, she could see a street with cars passing by. She almost cried with relief as she braced herself.
It took three swift kicks before the grate fell open on its rusty hinges. She stepped through and quickly closed it behind her. She dusted herself off and hurried through the bushes before finding herself back on the sunlit sidewalk, getting as far away as possible.
When she got a few curious glances from a passerby she stopped in front of a large window and examined her reflection. Her hair was covered in white stringy cobwebs, her face smeared with brown streaks. She entered a bakery and spent the next ten minutes in the bathroom splashing cold water onto her face.
As her adrenaline began to subside, the excitement of her discovery slowly returned. She exited the bakery and crossed the street. Distant music drifted toward her like a pleasant fragrance and she subconsciously walked toward it.
A restaurant appeared with a bustling crowd of happy looking patrons. They lounged in shaded chairs along the sidewalk, sipping frosted drinks. Amara sat down at a square table with an orange and white tablecloth and ordered lemonade. She swiped through the images she had taken and was relieved to see they had turned out great. Despite her frantic pace, most of the pictures were focused and easily legible. She noticed a chalkboard sign near the entrance advertising free Wi-Fi. She connected to it and emailed the images to Danville. Her drink arrived and she sat back, satisfied.
Each guest around her seemed to speak in a different language. She absentmindedly tried to follow along some of the conversations. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh of relief. What would have happened to her had that tunnel not been there to escape through? The terrified expression of the greasy policeman kept entering her mind. He had looked terrified. Amara guessed bribery was a common occurrence amongst the police. Would he have been frightened by his commanding officer or could it have been someone completely different. Someone powerful. She thought of their experience in Ciudad del Este and shuddered.
Amara looked around and wondered if she should call it a day. Maybe head back to the hotel and recalibrate. The hot tub overlooking the ocean on the third floor beckoned to her. It was almost 3pm. There were still a few hours of daylight remaining. A sudden idea entered her mind. She held out her hands in front of her, weighing the different options. They still trembled slightly.
She thought of Nick and Adam somewhere between the Middle East and Asia. What trouble were they getting into? With a sudden self-assurance, she waved the waiter over and paid for the drink. She left a generous tip and walked down the street. She entered a tourist shop and bought a cute set of snorkeling gear. Five minutes later, a taxi pulled up and she got in.
“A dónde vamos?” the cab driver asked.
“Two kilometers north past the Hipólito Yrigoyen Bridge.”
Chapter 13
Gisela bolted upright, like her body had been shocked with electricity. Cold sweat ran down her face. She wiped the moisture with the back of her arm and looked around. The room was dark and for a moment she could not remember where she was. She closed her eyes and played back recent events in her head. Images of airports and people flashed through her mind like individual frames in an old movie. Green uniforms of helicopter pilots and a large circular array of solar panels materialized and then she remembered. With a shiver, she glanced in the direction of the thick glass that separated her from the vast ocean depths. Goose bumps spread over her skin. She rubbed the back of her arms to warm herself.
Exhaustion must have overwhelmed her when she had collapsed onto the bed hours before, because she hadn’t even gotten under the covers. The little light that allowed her to see around the small room emanated from a few bright LED bulbs by the door, which together marked the exit. She made her way to the glass window and pressed her nose against it. During the day the ocean’s surface had sparkled above her in the sunlight. Now, she could not distinguish which way was up or down. It was pitch black outside. She guessed dawn was still an hour or two away.
She glanced around the room and tried to decide what to do next. Everyone onboard was probably asleep. She thought about taking a shower, but her stomach protested with each thought that did not involve food. When the search for nutrients yielded nothing in the room, she opened the door softly and exited into the narrow corridor.
Doctor Lukas had said the entire floor consisted of rooms for personnel to sleep. With a quick glance in both directions, she made her way back toward the staircase at the end of the hall. When she reached the stairs, she paused and remembered what Lukas had said about how mother nature had purposely created a door for them to enter the earth. She tried to think of a reason why her comrades would be interested in spending resources in such a task. When nothing came to her, she turned around and descended farther into the floating structure.
As she passed each floor, something drew her lower and lower. The words “launch station” reverberated in her mind. She wondered what something like that would look like.
She peered up between the stairs and grimaced. The climb back to the top would be grueling. Her comrades must be in tiptop shape, traveling up and down the superstructure all day.
After one final turn, she found herself on the bottom level. Ahead of her were two doors with circular windows. They looked like doors that would normally lead into an industrial kitchen. She scanned the wall looking for a key card panel but found none. With a gentle push, the doors opened without a sound.
The lack of security surprised her until she remembered that only people from her organization were onboard. The nearest inhabited land was hours away in any direction. They were located somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. She smiled to herself at the genius of it all. Eliminating the need to stress about security and access, would allow her comrades onboard to work more efficiently without constant worry.
The room was too dark to navigate so she traced a hand along the wall until she located a switch and flipped it. She froze while the overhead lights flickered on.
The ceilings were high. Industrial warehouse high. Enormous machines littered the space like cars in a parking lot. Computers connected with long black wires crisscrossed the floor. Thick metal brackets were bolted to the ceiling with long tracks that acted like a portable crane.
She started to follow under the tracks when movement on the ceiling farther ahead caught her eye. She watched it for a moment and tried to make sense of it. The erratic movements looked like the reflection from a swimming pool.
She hurried forward, passing dumpster size machines along the way. Soon she came upon a rectangular body of water rising arm’s length from the floor like a reflection pool. The slight motion of the structure at the surface disturbed the water enough to cause the dancing reflections on the ceiling.
Suspended by heavy cables above the water was a contraption unlike anything she had seen before. It almost looked like a submarine constructed in the shape of a torpedo. The nose looked like a massive drill. The cone shape was encircled by a razor-sharp metal that gleamed in the light. The sheer size and weight were staggering. It was about the size of a semi-truck in length.
She approached the edge of the pool and leaned over. At first, she had thought that the water was only a few feet deep. Now, as she peered i
nto the bottomless void, she realized she was looking into the depths of the ocean.
She marveled at the physics behind it all. It must have been like when you turn a cup upside down and submerge it under water. Something to do with air pressure. She lowered her face until she was even with the surface.
“What do you think?” a calm voice said directly behind her.
Gisela jumped in surprise and barely caught herself from falling face first into the water. Her left arm from the elbow down was soaked. The water was ice-cold.
She wiped her arm on her pants and turned to face Doctor Lukas. “I couldn’t fall back asleep and wanted to explore a little.”
He studied her for a moment and then looked up. “She is beautiful, isn’t she?” He nodded toward the 18-wheeler sized drill suspended a few feet above them. “The most powerful and innovative excavation machine ever constructed by mankind.” He paused and looked down into the water. “This is the seventh and final generation. Each prior version has been extensively tested and pushed to the limits. I am confident the sixth version could have completed the job, but there is no room for error.” He pointed upward. “We are looking at the fruits of over twenty years of research and development.”
“What was it built for?” Gisela asked.
Lukas stared at the rippling water, as though transfixed by the hypotonic movement.
“To perform a task that has only existed within the realm of imagination before today,” he said, after a long pause.
Gisela frowned at the blatant ambiguity. She had dedicated her entire life for the cause and was insulted that after so many years of absolute loyalty and sacrifice, Doctor Lukas remained so hesitant to reveal any details about his work.
She decided to try another approach. “How long have you worked at this location?” she asked.
“We have been working at the Atlantis Massif site for over two years now,” Lukas answered. “Although many years of work preceded that on the mainland. Generations of our most brilliant scientists and engineers have enabled us to reach this point.”
“I have had the chance to see most of the work locations around the world,” Gisela said. “Many of them have been on site for two years or so. Our organization is truly harnessing power that some would argue isn’t meant to be explored by humans.” She gestured to the vast amount of complex machinery behind her. “I just struggle to justify the allocation of such an exorbitant amount of resources and time this all must have taken.”
Lukas looked at his watch and then back at her. “I believe that is because you don’t quite comprehend what we are attempting to accomplish here.”
“Clearly,” Gisela retorted, with her hands on her hips. It came out a little more aggressive than she had intended. She stared at him straight in the eyes and reused to yield. It was her job to be able to extract information from people and she had become an expert at changing her strategy based on personality. Some required charm and flirtation, while others, like Doctor Lukas, required her to be stern, almost mean.
Doctor Lukas paused for a few moments and then pointed up at the sleek machine. “We call her Strom.” He sat down at the edge of the water. “Do you know that if you drill a well deep enough into the earth, the water comes out hot?”
Gisela knew he had relented and was going to divulge what they were doing so she dropped the bad cop routine and flashed a smile. “I have heard that before,” she said, as she sat down next to him.
“It’s because the earth’s temperature increases the deeper you travel.” He made a wide arching gesture with his arms. “We are currently sitting at the thinnest spot on the planet. The crust ends, and the mantle begins just below us.” He pointed down.
Gisela furrowed her eyebrows in a way that prompted him to continue.
“The temperature of the mantle ranges between 500 degrees Celsius near the top where we are now, and steadily increases until it passes 4000 degrees Celsius near the outer core.”
When Gisela didn’t say anything, he continued.
“Strom was built from a combination of tantalum carbide and hafnium carbide materials that our scientists have been testing for the last two decades. This machine can withstand temperatures twice that.”
Gisela was growing impatient but maintained a benign curiosity. “That is very impressive Doctor,” she said. “But what would such a machine accomplish? To what end was it designed and built?”
“Ah,” Lukas said, with reverence in his voice. He looked at her. “Have you ever heard of the Dynamo theory in physics?”
Gisela shook her head.
He nodded. “Essentially, the dynamo theory describes the process through which a rotating, convecting, and electrically conducting fluid can maintain a magnetic field over astronomical time scales. A dynamo is thought to be the source of the Earth's magnetic field, as well as the magnetic fields of other celestial objects.”
Her eyes widened as she tried to understand where he could be going with all of this. She thought about the software she had stolen in Tokyo that predicted conditions on earth with varying sizes of solar flares.
“Through the examination of volcanic rocks, which we can now read as easy as text,” he continued, “we have the ability to actually measure and study magnetic reversals throughout the earth’s history. As far as we know from our research, the magnetic field reverses on average every 200,000 years or so. When such events occur, the earth’s ability to protect itself from the enormous energy from the sun is greatly weakened.” He paused and looked at his hands. “Some even hypothesize that large extinction events coincide with such magnetic reversals.”
Gisela just stared at him with her mouth open. “We are going to cause a magnetic reversal,” she whispered, more to herself than to the doctor who beamed with anticipation. She closed her eyes and tried to recreate in her mind what the computer model had predicted if such an event were to occur. Was it even possible? She looked up at the smooth machine suspended above her and wondered if it really could accomplish what it was built for. The mantle was enormous. How could such a tiny object relative to the vastness of earth make any sort of impact? It would be like pricking an entire continent with a sewing needle.
Lukas studied her face and recognized the confusion. “The science behind how it works is quite miraculous,” he said. “At the same time, you would be surprised how simple it is. The magnetic reversal has already begun. Geologic time, however, takes far too long and is far too unpredictable. We are simply kick starting the process. We believe that if we can position Strom inside the mantle at the right location and blast it with an enormous amount of electric current, it will start a chain reaction that will cause the next magnetic reversal to happen within months instead of tens of thousands of years.”
Gisela’s confusion dissipated and was replaced with a sort of malevolent pride. Odessa, since its founding after WWII, had done nothing but scientific miracles. She looked at Doctor Lukas with a new respect. “Someone recently told me that between reversals the magnetosphere above the earth disappears for a short period.”
“That is when the magic happens,” Lukas said, with a broad grin.
“When is she going to be put to work?” Gisela asked.
“Today, at 1700 hours,” Lukas answered. “The time has finally come.” He clapped his hands together and rubbed them in excited anticipation. “It pleases me you will be here with us to witness the launch. The annals of the pure history will remember this moment for all time.”
From a speaker mounted to the ceiling, static erupted followed by a male’s voice. Doctor Lukas walked over to a pillar with a telephone and nodded a few times before glancing in her direction.
Gisela ran a hand through her long hair and cringed. It was greasy and matted. She wished she would have showered before her exploration of the vessel. It had been at least 72 hours since her last one. Doctor Lukas shot her a glance that gave her the impression her stay was not going to be for very long, after all.
Lukas hung up a
nd put his hands on his hips. He looked up at the machine with evident admiration. A figure appeared behind them out of breath. Gisela guessed he must have descended all the flights two stairs at a time.
“What is it?” Doctor Lukas asked.
The man pointed at Gisela. “She is needed topside. A helicopter is five minutes out. There is a problem, and they are requesting her expertise.”
Lukas looked at her. “I wish we had the time to give you a proper tour of the facility. It is truly a modern marvel. Our ancestor pioneers would have been proud. I’m afraid time runs short.”
Gisela began to make her way past the two men back toward the stairs. “What kind of problem?” she asked.
“You will be briefed in route.”
“Where am I headed?” she asked.
“Cairo.”
Chapter 14
The old jeep bounced jarringly down the dusty road. In the driver’s seat Wilkins fought the rusty gearshift. Wood stared out the passenger side window and thought the Red Sea was a lot less red than advertised. The water near the sun-scorched sand was shallow and clear. Its gentle shade of blue reminded Wood of the Caribbean.
The road followed the curves and bends of the shoreline. Stretching away from the sea, a desolate valley of sand and rock looked as inviting as Hell. Its unforgiving terrain extended for miles toward a ridge of dark mountains in the far distance. Wood felt a little more empathy for the continual complaints of the children of Israel. Wandering around for 40 years in that forsaken territory would have been awful.
Back in Turkey, Wood and Wilkins regrettably had decided to ditch the guns before crossing the border. No sense to be thrown into a foreign prison for transporting illegal firearms across international boundaries. Wood guessed Stalbridge would have let them rot for a while before flexing some diplomacy muscles at the state department.
