To The Center Of The Earth

by Greig Beck

  “Wow, mental health has come a long way in Mother Russia.” David pulled his jacket collar up.

  “They’re expecting us?” Angela asked.

  Michael grunted. “Sort of. I sent word ahead that we were a group of visiting psychiatric health professionals and interested in the effects of caving trauma and resulting psychosis. They agreed to see us when I told them we were happy to pay a consulting fee.”

  David scoffed. “Is there any law about pretending to be a doctor around here?”

  “You’re a real doctor, so my statement was partially true.” Michael winked.

  “You said this woman’s entire cave party all died in the cave, right?” Ronnie asked.

  “Yep, and the story given out by the local media was that it was due to a cave-in.” Michael zipped his jacket. “But if it was just a cave-in, then why did the government not ever make public the results of its rescue attempt, and instead closed the caves to the public?”

  Michael pulled his collar tighter. “Then there’s the rumors that the sole survivor, this woman, was down in the caves for nearly a year.”

  Angela scoffed. “Yeah, right. I mean, how do you survive for that long in a cave over 7,000 feet deep? There’s nothing down there but maybe some blind spiders and pond scum.”

  Andy sniffed from the cold air. “I agree. I call bullshit.”

  “And it would be unless you found another food and water source. Like the one she said they found at the center of the Earth,” Michael replied.

  “More like they closed the caves because they’re unsafe.” Jane turned. “This area is usually known for its stable geology. But is there a cave-in risk we need to know about, Michael?”

  “Of course there is.” He faced her. “There’s cave-in risk in nearly every cave we enter. That’s part of the thrill, isn’t it?” Michael’s eyes gleamed.

  “My money is on the Russian government using the caves to store radioactive waste,” David pronounced. “I read that they do that if they’re deep enough in stable areas. Means they don’t have to dig storage pits.”

  “And we’re planning on breaking into that?” Jane scowled.

  Michael put his arm around Andy’s shoulders. “In the words of my young friend here: bullshit.” He grinned. “Come on, Jane, we’ve got to meet a lady about a deep, dark hole in the ground. And remember…” He pointed at each of them. “We’re all health professionals.”

  Michael walked the team up the rutted driveway and toward the steps. Up on the front landing, he turned. “You guys wait here. We don’t want to overwhelm them or scare her—she’s probably in her 70s now. Jane and David, you’re with me.”

  Michael straightened his clothing, cleared his throat, and rapped on the door. The sound echoed inside and then there was silence. After a moment, Michael raised his hand to knock again, but paused and turned his head to listen, as there was a soft creak from behind the door.

  “Da kto tam?” the female voice was firm.

  Michael leaned forward. “Ah, Zdravstvuyte, gospozha Babikova. Eto Frensis Doktir Monroe. My razgovarivali po telefonu.”

  Jane didn’t understand a word, but she guessed he was introducing himself and reminding her that they had sent word that they were coming.

  “Yes, yes, I remember. You are the American psychiatrist,” she said in heavily accented English. “One moment, please.”

  The door creaked inward, and a draft of cabbage and onions, plus cleaning fluid, wafted out before a stern-looking woman revealed herself.

  Michael bowed slightly. “Sister Olga?”

  The woman nodded, her eyes darting from Michael to Jane and then David. Michael touched his chest. “I am Doctor Monroe from the Alabama Center of Health Excellence.” He turned and motioned to Jane first. “These are Doctors Baxter and Sholtzen.”

  The pair nodded, and the woman turned back to Michael. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

  “We appreciate you assisting us in our research project.”

  He handed her the envelope and she peeked inside before making it disappear under her tunic. She looked past Michael to the others waiting on the front landing.

  “You three only. The patients are easily frightened.” Olga stood aside and ushered them inside.

  She closed the door behind them, and Michael glanced at Jane who turned her mouth down and grimaced back at him. He knew what she meant; the smell was horrible, and the hospital was probably more a holding tank than any sort of medical care facility.

  “This way.” Olga turned and led them along a dark corridor with only a few light bulbs working.

  A few other severe-looking nursing sisters poked their heads out to stare as they passed by. There were also some of the patients, he guessed, in wrinkled white pajamas that had vacant, heavily medicated expressions with some simply standing in the darker alcoves and seeming oblivious to the world around them.

  “How is she?” Michael asked.

  “Ms. Babikov is at peace now.” Olga came to a door and knocked, listened for a moment, and then began to unlock it. “Her door doesn’t need to be locked, but she likes it that way. And we are never allowed to turn her lights out. She said she must always be in the light.”

  Olga pushed open the door. “Katya, some people to see you. Come say hello.”

  A tiny woman materialized in front of them.

  Jane was a little shocked and worked hard not to show it. Though she was only supposed to be mid 70s, the woman looked much older, and Jane had to remind herself that this woman’s life had probably been much harder than theirs had ever been. But it was the tumors all over her forehead, nose, and ears that startled her.

  Katya pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders and Michael bowed. “Good morning, Ms. Babikov. I am Doctor Monroe, and these are my colleagues, Doctor Jane Baxter, and Doctor David Sholtzen. We’ve come to talk to you for a while. Is that alright with you?”

  The woman’s eyes were distrustful and moved across their faces. Jane smiled broadly and held out her hand.

  “Hello, Ms. Babikov.”

  The woman took Jane’s outstretched hand and just held it. “You can call me Katya.”

  “May we come in?” Michael asked.

  The old woman nodded and stood aside.

  Jane and David followed Michael who walked into the center of the brilliantly lit room. There were a couch and two armchairs, several lamps, and a globe on a low-hanging cord overhead. Jane noticed that there was also kerosene lamps scattered about. Maybe for emergency lighting, she thought.

  Katya excused herself to freshen up in a small toilet room, giving the trio a chance to look around.

  Jane’s first impression was that the old woman had done her best to personalise her small room with faded pictures on the wall, plus some sewn tapestries with words embroidered in Russian she couldn’t understand.

  On a table was a photograph in a wooden frame and she approached it, squinting at the faces. She reached out to lift it closer.

  “Hey, look at this.”

  She turned it around. It was a picture of five smiling young people all dressed in overalls, with headlamps strapped to their foreheads and belts dangling with old-style climbing gear.

  Michael looked down over her shoulder. “I bet that was her caving team.”

  Katya returned, holding a tray that had a teapot covered in a knitted cosy, three teacups, all of differing china, plus a small plate of broken biscuits. As she laid it down on a side table, Jane quickly placed the picture frame back on the tabletop. But not quick enough.

  “My friends, you found them.” Katya’s eyes twinkled. “I knew you would.” She went and retrieved the frame and held it close to her breast for a moment.

  “Was that your team that went into the Krubera? All the way to the bottom?” Michael asked.

  Katya sat down and motioned for them to sit as well—the choices were a threadbare armchair, a stool, or the bed. “Help yourself, please.” She pointed to the pot.

/>   Michael poured them all tea and placed a biscuit shard beside each cup. He perched carefully on the small stool.

  “All the way to the bottom? Yes. Did you know we were the first? Well, except for Saknussov.” Katya stared at the picture. “The handsome one on the left is Dmitry.” She sighed. “He was always laughing, very funny man. Next to him is my sister, Lana.” She bobbed her head for a moment. “We always argued over little things like clothing.”

  Katya’s eyes glistened as she traced the image with one withered finger. Once again, Jane thought how ravaged the woman looked for her age. Did her experiences do that to her, or the cancers? she wondered.

  Katya continued. “Then in the middle is Georgy, our leader; a good, decent man, strong. I loved him.” She smiled ruefully. “Then I am next. I was pretty then. And without fear.” She turned the picture around to Michael momentarily. “Before the cancers came for me.”

  He nodded, and she went on.

  “Finally, there is young Alexi. He was little more than a boy.” She looked up. “He was the first…to be taken.”

  Taken? Jane wondered at the term. Did she mean he fell, got caught in a cave-in, or got lost? Is that what she meant?

  Michael put his teacup down. “Katya, I want to thank you for seeing us. Your memories are important to us.” He sat forward. “You were the last member of a fateful team. I wanted to see you to get an understanding about what a caver can expect in the Krubera Cave. To avoid dangers.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she stared into Michael’s face for a few seconds before shaking her head. “No one goes in there. No one is allowed. And that is how it should be.”

  She stared again, and then her eyes shifted to Jane. She reached over, grabbed her hand, and traced the palm with fingertips as she studied it.

  “It is as I thought when you greeted me. These are not the hands of a doctor or bureaucrat. These are the hands of a caver.” She dropped the hand and smiled sadly. “I am not well, but I am not stupid.”

  Katya sighed and then turned the picture of her friends around to them once more. “This is you. Do you see?” She tapped the picture more forcefully. “This group is you. Because we were you—brave, strong, confident.” She snorted. “Overconfident. Naïve. Stupid. We went caving everywhere, but only in the deepest, most dangerous ones. We liked to take big risks and we always won. But then one day, you roll dice and you lose. And you lose everything.”

  The old woman reached out for her tea and Jane saw her hand was shaking.

  “When you went into the Krubera Caves, was there a cave-in?” Jane asked. “Was that what took Alexi and the others?” She put her cup down.

  “Krubera.” She looked up, and her eyes shone. “Do you know that cave has many names? Verona, Crow Cave, and also it is called the Devil’s Doorway?”

  Michael shook his head.

  “My poor friends. We knew it was called that but didn’t know why. Then we did, and it was too late.” She slumped, and her teacup slid.

  Michael reached out to take it from her. “Is that why it is off-limits? Because it’s so dangerous?”

  “You will not go into the caves,” Katya intoned.

  “Is the cave’s geomorphic structure unstable? The geology is quite old here and should be solid,” David asked.

  “It is stable, but there was a tremor when we were deep in the caves. We were at the basement, 7,200 feet.” She snorted derisively. “Not the true basement.”

  David whistled.

  “We wanted to dive in the sump pool, look for sunken passages. But the tremor stopped us. Only from diving,” Katya said.

  “What happened?” Jane gently pressed. “Think back. What happened down there?”

  “I don’t need to think back. The memories never leave me.” Katya’s eyes became flint hard. “There’s a world within a world.” She looked up at them. “Do you know who Arkady Saknussov is?”

  “Yes, I do,” Michael replied. “He was the 15th century Russian scholar and alchemist who believed the world was hollow.” He smiled sympathetically. “There are many, like me, who believe in that wild theory. That hundreds of millions of years ago the Earth’s molten core began to cool and shrink, and then pulled away from the mantle. It created a space…a space for an entire new world. An untouched paradise.”

  “Yes, exactly what Georgy believed.” Katya stared now.

  Michael felt Jane’s eyes on him. He went on. “In 1864, a French author by the name of Jules Verne was said to have adapted Saknussov’s theory into a story, called ‘Voyage au Center de la Terre,’ or A Voyage to the Interior of the Earth.” He smiled. “I mean, Arkady Saknussov was obviously the model for Jules Verne’s Arne Saknussem.”

  “I think so too.” Katya reached out to take back her now tepid cup of tea. “I studied more of Saknussov’s theory when I returned. I spent years seeking out his notes, his research, and his theories. But when I try and talk about it, warn people, they put me in here.” She waved an arm around.

  “Saknussov was said to have vanished without a trace. Do you think he found his way down…to the interior?” Michael felt his heart hammering.

  Jane made a noise in her throat, but he ignored her.

  “Do you?” Michael urged.

  “Yes.” Katya looked up. “Yes. I know he did. But his theory was wrong in one regard—it is no paradise down there.”

  Suddenly, the old woman’s eyes blazed. “Why are young people so stupid?” she spat.

  Then Katya’s jaw set. “I will report you if you go there. I would see you in prison, and alive, then ever let anyone go down into that hell again.”

  Michael held up his hands. “No, no, we are not going there, we promise. Besides, no one is going down into the Krubera anymore, as it’s all still sealed up, I hear.” He shot Jane a glance. “We plan on going to the Illyuzia-Meshonnogo-Snezhnaya system. It’s around 5,751 feet deep.”

  “Good.” Katya mumbled something and made a sign over her face like a circle with a cross inside it. “That cave is better for you. I know it is a good cave. It will test your skills, but it is…safe.”

  They sipped tea in silence for a moment more, and Michael sensed the woman was pulling away and taking her memories with her. He had come a long way and needed to know more. This opportunity would never present again, he thought. He put his cup down.

  “Katya… Katya…” Michael waited until she half-turned to him. “Just a little more of your generous time. Please tell us what happened…when you got to the pool? You said the tremor stopped you from diving. How did it do that?”

  “It was gone, the pool.” She spoke as if in a trance, her eyes unfocused.

  “Gone? You mean drained away?” He sat forward.

  She nodded. “One minute, it was there, and the next, it was all gone. Like pulling the plug on a bath.” She nodded as she remembered. “The tremor swallowed it and also opened a new chamber. And stupidly, we went in.”

  Michael looked quickly at Jane and she lifted her eyebrows slightly. He poured Katya some more tea and also gave her his piece of biscuit. “How big was it? How deep did it go?”

  “Just like the old alchemist said—all the way.” She smiled dreamily and held up three fingers, scraping them in the air. “We followed the three marks of Saknussov, all the way down to the center.”

  Michael swallowed. “And that’s why you were down there so long. I heard it was nearly a year before you came out.”

  She shook her head. “No, I never came out. I’m still there now. I’m trapped.” She mumbled something in Russian and Jane took her hand.

  “You’re safe now, Katya. You’re home.” Jane patted her small hand.

  “No, everything I loved is down deep in those caves—my friends, my lover, my youth, and my mind.” She drew in a huge breath and then let it out in a deep, shuddering exhalation.

  David finally sat forward, concern creasing his forehead. “Katya, do you hear their voices, in your head?”

  “Their voices, and their screa
ms. Always screaming.” Her face crumpled. “My poor sister, Lana. She wants me to help her. I can’t.” Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Can you hear them now?” David pressed.

  Katya ignored him. “Down there were wonders—an entire ocean under eternal daytime with a strange blood-red light. There were mushrooms as big as trees, and crystals the size of buildings. But there were also monsters.” Her face crumpled. “And worse.” Tears welled in her eyes, and Jane continued to hold her hand.

  “Help me understand. Even a year isn’t enough time to travel all the way to the center of the Earth.” David tried to look into her face, but Katya kept her head down. “It’s not possible.”

  “By the gravity wells,” she said softly. “That’s what Georgy called them. He said they were places where the planet’s magnetic pull was distorted and allowed us to travel through the mantle.” She smiled. “It was fun then—we could fly.”

  Jane turned to Michael, and perhaps she was expecting to see him look skeptical but instead he was enthralled. He had many theories about how one could get down and return so quickly. This was something he hadn’t expected.

  “They said they didn’t believe me, that I made it all up or suffered from some type of stress sickness. Or maybe I hit my head.” Her tears now ran freely. “But if they thought I was making it all up, then why did they seal the cave? And why did they lock me away in here?”

  She gripped Jane’s hand, hard. “Why, why?” Her eyes were fearful and wide. “I tell you why—to keep the things trapped down there.”

  *****

  As they were leaving, they stopped at the door and Michael turned and took the small, frail woman’s hand in his. “Thank you.”

  She lifted her eyes to him. “I know you are lying. I know you are going. Because young people have no fear of death or of dying.” Her lips lifted into a rueful smile. “And they are stupid.”

  “I have one last question,” Michael said softly, and the woman looked deep into his eyes, waiting. “Would you not like to be proved sane? That someone could prove it was all true, and maybe, just maybe, quieten the screaming?”