To The Center Of The Earth

by Greig Beck

  She stared for a moment more, and as Jane came closer to hear more, they both switched to Russian. After a moment, Katya motioned for him to follow and he turned to hold up a finger to Jane and David, indicating he’d be just a moment.

  After a few minutes, Jane was about to follow when Michael returned, stuffing something into his breast pocket. Unexpectedly, he reached down to hug Katya, and she hugged him back.

  “Tell my sister I’m sorry.” Katya pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I will pray for you,” she whispered, and then was gone.

  *****

  “So, insane, huh?” Andy grinned.

  David drove the van back to their hotel and gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white as they wended along slippery, snow-covered roads. He spoke over his shoulder.

  “I think so. I’m a general physician and not a psychologist, but I can tell you that Ms. Katya Babikov exhibited all the textbook signs of severe psychosis—hearing voices, depression, feeling trapped by and within past events.”

  Jane shook her head. “I don’t think so. She was certainly troubled. And whatever happened to her certainly shook her up. She’s suffering loss, but she’s not insane.”

  David spoke over his shoulder again. “By the way, did you guys see those facial tumors? That’s radiation necrosis. I told you the Russians probably stored radioactive waste in caves.”

  “Whoa, seriously? I thought that was a myth.” Ronnie sat forward. “Is there something we need to know, Michael?”

  Michael stared straight ahead.

  “You told us she actually said she saw an underground ocean, mushroom trees, and monsters? Yeah, I think I’d say very troubled,” Angela said through a smile. “Like off the freaking chart troubled.”

  Jane noticed Michael hadn’t said a word since they left. “What do you think, Michael?”

  He sat like stone for a moment more, and then he spoke without turning. “I believe her.”

  CHAPTER 04

  Town of Gagra, Abkhazia, the foot of the Caucasus Mountains

  The group sat in the small smoky bar and drank the potent, gritty local beer. The team was all still hopped up on enthusiasm and the promise of adventure, which was expected, as everyone who did caving as a hobby, pastime, or full-time job, was in some way addicted to adrenaline.

  The next morning, they were due to load up on supplies, and then make for the cave by midday, and Michael felt both exhilarated and scared half out of his wits.

  He had spent the first hour allaying the group’s fears about Russian radioactive waste dumps, and in the end, he had flat-out lied and told them that when he had spoken to Katya by himself she had told him she had the tumors before she went into the cave.

  He didn’t think for a second there would be radioactive waste and had another theory about that. Time would tell if he was right.

  Now, his mind worked overtime as he replayed all the woman had told him and he worked it in among all he had learned over the years. He knew with every fiber of his being they were on the verge of discovering something of unparalleled importance. Maybe even world-changing.

  Jane bumped his elbow, breaking his reverie.

  “Already there?”

  He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “So, what do you think we’ll find down there? I mean, really find?” She sipped her beer but kept her eyes on him. Everyone at the table stopped talking to listen.

  “Answers,” he said. He looked at each of his friend’s faces. “Answers to questions we’ve been asking for centuries.”

  “Michael, there was something you said to us before we left that keeps playing in my head. You said that you had been planning this for a long time. How long exactly?” David asked.

  He smiled. “Years. And years.” He sipped his beer. “And it took me years before that until I even learned that the woman might still be alive. I just didn’t know where she was. All records of her seemed to have been conveniently lost. But I’m a pretty good detective.”

  “Helps if you speak Russian,” Jane replied.

  “That’s true. You tell someone from a Russian government department you’re an American, and only speak English, they hang up on you.” He chuckled.

  “Let’s cut to the chase, Mr. Monroe—you really think there’s something down there besides a deep cave, don’t you?” Angela rested her elbows on the table and leaned forward.

  He nodded. “Saknussov was alive in the 15th century, and his theory of a hollow Earth has been kicking around ever since then. The entry to the inner world was said to be only via extinct volcanoes, or the deepest caves, and these places were also rumored to have been at the North and South poles, the north of Canada, Hangchow in China, and even somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest. But I knew there had to be more.”

  “Come on, man.” Ronnie Schwartz’s brows were creased together. “This is all science fiction.”

  “Once, the idea of going to the moon was just science fiction. Or of walking on the bottom of the ocean, or flying, or traveling faster than the speed of sound.” Michael turned to Ronnie. “The only proof we have of a solid core, wrapped in a liquid outer core with a thick mantle, was given to us only a few short years ago by seismologists. And it’s still only a theory today. Or maybe science fiction.”

  “I thought the Earth’s solid core gave us all our gravity. It has to be there,” Andy said.

  “Wrong. The Earth’s mass gives it most of its gravity.” Michael held his hands up, fingers open as though holding a ball. “When an earthquake happens, it sends waves—shock waves—through the planet. Seismologists hear and record these vibrations. It’s like we tap one side of a giant bell with our knuckle, and someone listens on the other side for the noise.”

  He moved his finger around the imaginary ball. “So, depending on which way those vibrations travel, they pass through different areas of the Earth. And those different areas affect what they sound like at the other end.

  “Seismologists found that some vibrations were going missing as they traveled through the planet. They called them ‘S-waves,’ and something was making them vanish inside the Earth. They believed that the reason for this was simple—S-waves can only move through solid material and can’t make it through liquid.

  “So, they decided those waves must have come up against something liquid—molten liquid they hypothesized—like in the center of the Earth.”

  “And?” Jane asked. “That’s the accepted science.”

  Michael held up a finger. “But the S-waves won’t pass through something else as well.” He smiled and leaned forward. “Air.” He saw them hanging on his words.

  “I’ve spoken to many geologists who all agree that the inner core truly is a solid, probably wrapped in the liquid core.” He made a fist and wrapped his hand around it, indicating one core over the other.

  “But here’s the thing. Many, though not publicly, say that the molten core is cooling and has been shrinking over billions of years. It is sticking around the solid core and actually pulling away from the upper mantle, leaving a void that had been filled with air, water, and…perhaps even, life.”

  “You said that to the old woman. Which just affirmed her neurosis.” David shook her head. “Just how could anything survive being so close to the molten core?”

  Michael leaned his forearms on the table. “Remember Katya mentioned the red light? I believe there is a sheet of solidified volcanic glass, perhaps hundreds or thousands of feet thick, providing insulation. And one more thing that proves it for me.” He craned forward. “Katya Babikov and her friends went there and saw it themselves. And she returned.”

  “Yeah, just her.” David drained his beer. “Look, Michael, I love you, buddy, but it’s going to take us about four days to descend to around 7,000 feet—around one and a half miles. But the mantle alone is 6,000 miles thick. Doing the math, at that descent speed, we would need…” he looked up, calculating for a moment, before snorting. “Over 50,000 years to make the
drop. That might be a little more time than I can afford to be away from my job.”

  Michael threw his head back and laughed. “Yeah, yeah, and it always perplexed me about how this was possible, until Katya gave us the key.” He turned to Jane. “When she mentioned the gravity wells.”

  “Gravity what?” Andy frowned. “What does that mean? I’ve never heard of that term, ever.”

  “It’s actually more of a physics term. But at this point, I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that Earth’s, or any large celestial body’s, gravity is a function of its mass, core, and its rotation. As you descend below the surface, then the careful balance of these forces is disrupted. It is possible, that deep down there could be some sort of sinkholes that run for hundreds or thousands of miles that might be nearly gravity free.”

  “Like in space?” Andy’s brows shot up.

  “Maybe. Katya said they could fly in them. That’s how they traveled so quickly.”

  David sat back. “Excuse me, but I think my head is about to explode.”

  “What are we getting ourselves into?” Ronnie asked. “This is more than a few weeks caving to reach and return from 7,000 feet, isn’t it?”

  “What are we getting into? Possibly the biggest thing since Christopher Columbus discovered the New World. This is Nobel Prize material.” Michael held his hands out. “The adventure alone will be mind-blowing, but just imagine what we might discover there.”

  “We won’t make it back in time for the competition,” Andy complained.

  “Who cares?” Michael slapped his shoulder. “The advance on your book deal will be a king’s ransom.”

  “Phew.” David grimaced. “Wish I could tell Jenny.”

  “We can’t tell anyone just yet. Not even your wife.” Michael pushed his chair back. “One more drink for the table, and then we better hit the hay. Big day tomorrow.”

  “I’ll help you carry them.” Jane also stood to follow him.

  *****

  At the bar, Michael ordered the drinks, and Jane looked up at his face. She knew he was still holding things back.

  “I don’t think I can go.” Resignation clouded her features. “You heard Katya Babikov—she was gone for around a year. I can’t vanish for that long.” She motioned toward their group. “And you haven’t told them that either.”

  “No.” Michael inhaled deeply through his nose, his nostrils flaring. “Because you’re right, they might say no. And I need them. All of them.” He looked down at her and placed one of his large hands over hers. “And more than anything, I need you.”

  She continued to stare up at him, trying to read him, and she felt him squeeze her hand.

  “I need your strength, your counsel, and I need your friendship. Please come, Jane.” He stared, and his blue-eyed gaze pierced hers.

  He looked like he meant it. And he looked like he hadn’t contemplated her not being at his side. She kinda liked that.

  Jane stared up into his handsome face. “When we left, what did she give you? The old woman?”

  A small smile spread across his lips, and he reached into his breast pocket. He drew out a leather book, only 8 inches by 6 inches, and he placed it on the countertop.

  “Her notebook.”

  She looked down at the book and saw it was crammed with loose papers and even news clippings. She undid the string holding it and eased the leather boards open.

  “Is this Arkady Saknussov’s manuscript?” She felt her frustration rise as she flipped a few of the pages. “It’s all in damn Russian.”

  “What did you expect? It’s written by a Russian citizen.” Michael smiled. “And no, not Saknussov’s work, but Katya’s. She has some of the ancient Russian’s notes in there that’s she’s copied, but primarily, it’s her experiences from her expedition.”

  She snapped the book shut and slid it back to him. “What does it say?”

  “Everything we need to know, I think,” he replied. “I’ll finish reading it tonight. But know this—it means we’re not going in blind. The shortcuts Katya and her team found we can adopt, and the mistakes they made, we can avoid.”

  “To the center of the Earth.” The thought dumbfounded her. “It seems so…impossible.”

  “No, it’s very possible. And it gets even better. It seems Arkady Saknussov left them a trail of breadcrumbs.” He placed the book back in his pocket. “And those breadcrumbs are still waiting down there for us to follow.”

  *****

  Michael lay on his bed in a room surrounded by climbing gear. They had the technical side of the equipment, such as the ropes, pins, carabiners, climbing anchors, and dozens of pill-sized lithium batteries. Plus, the supply side, being dried food, vitamin pills, and water-purifying tablets. This was rarely a concern, as there was always water in caves.

  He read from Katya’s diary notes, and each page both startled and captivated him. It had been an obsession of his ever since as a boy he had read Jules Verne’s Journey to the Center of the Earth. And then soon after, he read the 1818 theories of John Cleves Symmes, an American Army officer, trader, and lecturer who was convinced there were passages to the world’s interior.

  But then this was followed by the first whisper of a real hollow Earth that had been mentioned to him in a geological forum. The thought that someone had already traveled there, perhaps for the first time over 500 years ago, was astounding.

  He would go there, and dangers be damned, he thought. He turned a page of Katya’s notebook and sat forward. He read the passages again and then let his eyes slide to his special equipment on his desk table—several knives and a bolt gun. The gun was used to fire metal pins into cave walls.

  He hoped the old woman had been exaggerating. But his gut told him it was true. He suddenly wished the bolt gun were a real weapon.

  CHAPTER 05

  The next morning, they’d hired a truck to drop them off as high as they could drive into the Caucasus Mountains, and then followed a trail by foot up the steep hills.

  The climb was wending, the hillside steep, and in some areas the track following the contours of the geography was little more than a few worn areas on the tough Caucasus’ grasses.

  “The world famous Krubera Cave, huh?” Andy said between puffs.

  Michael chuckled. “You expected it to be more like Times Square?”

  But the kid was right; there was nobody around, and the only living thing they’d seen so far was a few goats staring suspiciously from rocky outcrops and a handful of large and shiny, gimlet-eyed crows watching them pass by.

  “There are fresh tracks in the mud,” Jane said over her shoulder.

  Michael sped up a little, passing David. “Maybe a few of the goat herders.”

  “Only if they wore modern climbing boots,” she replied.

  Damn, he thought. Between the goats and the weather, tracks shouldn’t remain for very long, a day or so at most.

  He also spotted the tracks then—made by modern boots, some large and a few small. Whoever they were, there was a mix of men and boys or perhaps men and women.

  “Could there be another team out here?” Ronnie asked.

  Michael frowned as he looked at the tread styles. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that was exactly what it was. And he bet he knew who it was: Harry Wenton.

  It took them another hour to reach the entrance to the cave. None of them had ever been to this site before, but they knew to keep a sharp eye for a small rip in the earth, of no more than 8 feet by 3 feet. It almost seemed a secret entrance, and probably the reason it remained undiscovered until recently.

  Anyone who visited the place for the first time expected the deepest cave in the world to be a jaw-dropping spectacle, a little like what cavers referred to as a Hollywood entrance—a massive opening in a towering cliff wall a little like King Kong’s lair on Skull Island.

  Michael had studied many pictures of the site and used his GPS to locate where it should be, but as they came over the rise, what he saw was unexpected
.

  “What the hell? They built a well over it?” Angela asked.

  “No, they built a front door and locked it, remember?” Jane replied.

  There was a round structure of bricked-in cement that looked exactly like an old well. Except across the top was a heavy iron door.

  Michael felt a flare of anger as he lifted the padlock and chain. “Already cut.” He examined the severed links and saw it was still shining and fresh where the bolt cutters had been used. He sighed. “Maybe less than a day ago.”

  “One guess,” Angela said.

  Jane nodded. “Yep, gotta be Harry Wenton, and by the look of the tracks, he came with his own posse.” She backed up a bit and looked around at the ground. “I’m thinking he’s got a team of four, including himself.”

  “Sonofabitch.” Michael slammed down the chain.

  “Do we proceed?” Andy asked.

  “Damn right we do.” Michael gripped the handle and with a scream of unoiled hinges, he pulled back the slab of hammered iron. “We know where we are going, they don’t.”

  “What does that say?” Ron asked.

  On the inside of the steel door was Cyrillic lettering scratched into the heavy gauge steel.

  Michael read it, frowning. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on, Michael, you can read it. Tell us.” Jane rubbed a thumb on the writing. “It’s old. Probably done when the steel door was made.”

  “It’s a joke.” He snorted.

  “Good, I could use a laugh,” Ronnie said.

  “Abandon all hope all ye who enter here.” Michael shrugged. “A joke.”

  “What the hell?” David frowned.

  “Hell is right,” Jane said. “That’s from Dante’s Inferno about traveling to the underworld.”

  “The cave is deep. Like I said, it’s someone’s idea of a joke. Don’t worry about it.” Michael looked down into the cave depths.

  “Interesting that Dante wrote that in the 14th century. The same time period that your Russian friend, Arkady Saknussov, disappeared into that same underworld.” David cocked an eyebrow.