To The Center Of The Earth

by Greig Beck

  “What about…?” Jane started but Michael raised a hand to stop her.

  “Rest first. Problem-solving is easier when we all have clear and refreshed minds.”

  They erected a small structure that had a roof of fern fronds held up by sticks, and only about three feet off the ground. It would serve as a shade from the red heat constantly beating down from above.

  When foraging, Maggie found a fleshy plant like a cactus that when broken open or cut, leaked water—it tasted a little bitter but was nourishing. Later, Jamison located some eggs, and the group sat around looking at the gold ball-sized leathery things. They came from the local flying creatures that looked like a cross between a seagull and a dragonfly that had stiff, feather-like fronds for getting airborne, six legs, and multifaceted, compound eyes that glinted like stained glass in the red light.

  Bruno lifted one of the eggs and squeezed it for a moment before biting into it. Silvery viscous liquid spilled out into his fingers. His nose wrinkled a little, and he bobbed his head.

  “Taste like almond and…” He pondered for a moment and then just shrugged, sucking the rest of the yolk out.

  “Insect eggs for breakfast, lunch, or whatever time of day it is. This place is just heaven…not.” Andy tried one and grimaced. “Yech.”

  Jane and Maggie both held one, and Jane looked at hers between finger and thumb. “I’m only eating this because I need the energy.” She bit it and sucked it down, her nose wrinkling. They all did the same.

  After another few minutes, they allocated the job of designated lookouts, and the rest crawled under the shade of their structure. Bruno would take first watch, Michael next, and then Wenton.

  Michael closed his eyes and tried to shut out all the discomfort he felt and concerns he had. He needed rest more than any other time in his life. They depended on him. He had brought them here, and then it had turned out far more dangerous than he could ever have imagined. He owed it to them to get them all home.

  When sleep finally took him, it was crowded with images of burning skies, monstrous many-armed creatures, and a bottomless sea with things looking up at them with a hundred eyes.

  Bruno woke him after two hours and Michael still felt exhausted. Bruno lay down and was out cold almost immediately so Michael got comfortable for his time on watch. He saw that a few of the group slept soundly, but Angela and Andy tossed, murmured, and spoke in their sleep.

  He smiled down at Jane, watching her for a while. The strain had painted lines around her eyes, but she was still carrying the innocence of a child in the curve of her lips.

  I’ve got to get them home, he thought. If it’s the last thing I do.

  He cursed Katya and her notes for being so vague. She had come here and not mentioned many of the dangers. It was like her brain had refused to store some images, perhaps because they were too onerous or psychologically debilitating and she found she could only make the smallest of mentions of the horrors assailing them.

  But she had tried to warn them; even threatening to go to the police rather than let them come. Michael exhaled. He couldn’t blame her for leaving blanks. Some things were just too painful to remember.

  She had told him that Georgy was her lover, so it was here she had lost him and said her final goodbye. Maybe her mind was simply protecting her.

  When his shift was over, he roused Wenton, who grumbled and then wandered off a ways to empty his bladder. When he returned, he sat down on the sand and waved Michael off.

  Michael almost immediately fell back into his disturbed sleep once again.

  *****

  Angela giggled in her sleep. “Andy, stop it. Your hands are cold.”

  She dreamed she was floating, gently hovering above everyone else. She knew they were all tired so she was careful not to wake them. Andy held her like a baby, and his arms were so strong.

  Something moist went over her mouth. His lips? She kissed them back.

  *****

  “Angela?”

  “Huh…?” Michael woke to the sound of Andy’s voice. “What is it?” He sat up immediately as the others were also roused.

  The young caver was on his feet, looking about.

  “Where’s Angela?”

  “She was right next to you.” Jane sprang to her feet.

  “Is she taking a leak somewhere?” Jamison asked.

  “I checked and she’s nowhere,” Andy wailed.

  Michael spun. “Harry, you were on watch, where’d she go?”

  The man hiked his shoulders. “She must have slipped past me when…”

  “Oh for God’s sake. When you nodded off, right?” Michael bared his teeth in frustration.

  Wenton just looked sheepish but didn’t apologize. Michael looked up and down the beach. There were no new tracks. “Come on, it’s not a big island, so let’s spread out and find her.” Andy went to run ahead. “Hey, work in pairs.”

  Wenton went with Maggie along the north coastline. Jamison and Andy went into the interior, and Michael and Jane went south. Bruno stayed with the boat.

  In only a few minutes, the beach searchers joined up, and then headed to the interior. And then it took them only minutes more before they met at Georgy’s grave.

  Andy looked stricken with worry. “What happened? Where is she?”

  “She can’t have just vanished,” Maggie said. “Is there anywhere else on the island she could be?”

  “No, this whole island is no larger than a few football fields. There are no caves, and nowhere to hide,” Michael said.

  “Maybe not.” Wenton tapped his chin. He looked up slowly. “Remember Captain Lawrence Oates of the Tera Nova expedition to the Antarctic?”

  Michael frowned as he tried to recollect the name…and then he did. “Oh, bullshit.”

  “Who’s that? What’s bullshit?” Andy asked.

  Wenton turned. “We must face the possibility that she ‘walked off into the snow,’ as Captain Oates did in 1920. He was dying, knew it, and didn’t want to slow down his friends anymore. He was suffering from frostbite and knew he couldn’t go on, so…”

  “Piss off.” Andy threw his hands in the air and walked away.

  Michael looked down at the ground and tried to think it through. Angela was exactly the sort to self-sacrifice. But she was hardly at the end of her tether—he’d spoken to her, and she was like all of them, dragged down by fatigue but certainly not despondent.

  “I don’t buy it,” he said. “She didn’t leave a message, didn’t even give away a hint she was feeling that way.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right.”

  “She could have just hidden it well.” Maggie hiked her shoulders. “I don’t think we’re going to find her again.”

  Michael looked up. “We’re not leaving here until we at least find her body then. Like I said, I don’t buy it.”

  “Come on, Monroe. We’re dying here, and every extra hour we stay, we get closer to someone else walking off into the snow.” Wenton pointed a finger at Michael’s chest. “This is my expedition too, you know.”

  Michael folded his arms. “And?”

  “I say we take a vote.” Wenton straightened and lifted an arm. “All those in favor of departing for the mainland right now, please raise their hand. All those in favor of staying, do nothing.”

  Maggie raised her hand along with Wenton. Jamison also raised his but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

  Michael kept his arms folded, and so did Jane. Andy had returned and just glared.

  “Three apiece,” Michael said.

  They all turned to Bruno, and after a moment, he still hadn’t moved.

  “Bruno?” Wenton frowned. “Are you with us?”

  “Yes, sir.” He kept his hands by his sides. “But I think we should find out what happened to girl first.”

  “Damnit,” Wenton spat.

  “There you go again, Harry, overestimating your popularity again.” Andy gave him the finger.

  Wenton looked to take a step toward him but
Michael stepped in front of the man. “Save your strength for rowing.”

  Wenton shook his head, muttering, and walked off a few paces to stare out at the endless red water.

  Jane came and tugged at Michael’s elbow. “I just had a terrible thought.”

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Remember that worm that grabbed Angela? It came out of the ground, and if we weren’t there, it would have dragged her down, closed its trapdoor, and not left a trace. We might not have ever found her.” She blanched. “Do you think…?”

  “Damn.” He rubbed a hand up through his unkempt hair, snagging his fingers in the knots. “Yeah, yeah, that’s possible.” He sighed and then turned. “Listen up, people. We’re going to do another sweep of the island. But this time, we’re looking for another of those trapdoor holes, like the one the worm came out of. She might be, ah, underground.”

  “What? You think another one got her?” Andy looked skyward and crushed his eyes shut.

  “We form a skirmish line and look for a hole, a crack or crevice, or anything that might indicate an entrance, or something large enough to take her down.”

  Bruno pointed at the boat. “You want me to come or mind after this again?”

  Michael looked at the calm water and clear sky and shook his head. “No, come with us, we can use your eyes. This won’t take long.”

  Bruno saluted and joined them. The group spread out in a line about 10 feet apart and began a slow walk into the thatch of trees in the center of the island.

  They came across a few more clutches of eggs, and another long creature like a snake but it had multiple eyes, and bands of plates instead of scales. They walked slowly, using their spears to prod bushes, rocks, and anything else that might have concealed a trapdoor. But in around 15 minutes, they exited the other side of the thicket and then onto the opposite shoreline.

  “Nothing,” Andy said. He rubbed his face. “We do it again, on the way back. Take a step to the left so we cover new ground.”

  “Okay.” Michael knew it was probably hopeless, but a small hope was better than no hope at all. “Let’s start again.”

  They re-entered, and this time went even slower, but still finished in around 15 minutes and were back where they started.

  “Hey, is tide come in?” Bruno pointed.

  Their boat was about 50 feet from shore, just hanging in the water as if anchored.

  “Ah shit, how did that happen? Was there a wave or something?” Michael looked about and saw no evidence of a tidal surge, as the sand was dry to a waterline that was exactly where they left it.

  Bruno didn’t hesitate but walked straight into the water. Michael didn’t like it, but one way or the other they needed that boat.

  Bruno swam in an over-arm motion to the craft, and when he was about six feet from it, he vanished.

  “Hey.” Michael frowned and craned forward. “What’s he doing?”

  “Did he just dive under?” Jane asked.

  “Maybe he got a cramp.” Andy began to jog down the shore to the water.

  “Stop!” Michael yelled.

  At the water’s edge, Andy turned but pointed. “He’ll drown.”

  “The boat. Look at the boat,” Michael said. “Even with all the splashing that Bruno was doing, look.”

  They turned. The boat stayed motionless as if it had run aground on a bank.

  “It’s not moving. At all. Just like when we came in,” Maggie observed. “It’s caught on something.”

  “Or something is holding it in place,” Jane said softly.

  Andy began to back away from the water, and as soon as he did, a tendril shot forward from the sea and wound around his legs. Then another came after him. Michael charged and used his spear to jam it into one of them, but they were like leather.

  Jamison joined him and together they hacked and stabbed until the thing let go. Michael and Jamison dragged Andy back up the beach.

  “Look!” Maggie pointed out at the water.

  Just a dozen feet from the boat, a lump started to rise. It lifted more, displaying an insectoid face crowded with large dark eyes, with a pair of powerful-looking pincers on each side of its mouth. Surrounding the lump were long, muscular, and flexible legs like tentacles. One of them was coiled around the lifeless body of Bruno that hung limp in its grip.

  “Oh my God. It was trying to trap us, lure us into the water after the boat.” Jane backed up.

  “It must have got Angela when we slept,” Michael said.

  “Oh no, my poor Angela,” Andy wailed.

  “It’s just like an octopus, or this place’s equivalent of one.” Jane watched the thing as it watched them back. “Or a spider.”

  “A sea spider,” Michael replied. “Another example of your concurrent evolution.”

  “It’s smart,” Jamison said. “I think it was toying with us, enjoying a little game before dinner.”

  “Poor bastard,” Wenton said of Bruno. “Without the boat, we’re not getting off the island. And with that thing out there, even if we had the boat, we’re still not getting off the island.” He kept his eyes on the creature as it slowly sank below the surface.

  “We’re not safe here. It can get us on land—it’s already proved that,” Jane said and hugged herself. “For the first time, I’m glad there’s no night period. I’d hate to think of that thing sliding up out of the water and taking us in the dark.”

  “Seems we need that thing dead as much as we need the boat. Right now, maybe more.” Wenton folded his arms.

  “We need a plan,” Michael said.

  “Plans are what I do best.” Wenton smiled.

  “You have one?” Maggie asked.

  Wenton flicked an eyebrow up. “Of course. And I only need one thing to make it happen—dear old Georgy.”

  *****

  Jane held her breath as they uncovered the nearly 50-year-old corpse. But she didn’t need to; the dry sand had desiccated it down to bone, sinew, and a skull with mouth gaped wide in the perpetual scream of the dead.

  “Doesn’t smell too bad,” Jamison said.

  “That’s because he’s like a big piece of jerky by now,” Andy replied and scraped more sand off the body.

  “Try and keep him intact, please. It’s important.” Wenton supervised from the edge of the grave.

  Luckily, Georgy wasn’t sunk deep, and after another 15 minutes, they had the skeleton free.

  “He’s missing a foot,” Jane observed. “And by the look of the splintered bone, I’d say it was torn off.”

  Maggie fumed. “Our many-legged friend in the water, maybe?”

  Jane crouched. “The bone shows no evidence of healing, so I’d say that’s what killed him.” Her forehead creased. “There’s nothing else on this island that’d tear a limb off, so yeah, probably.”

  Michael walked through the trees to stare out at the boat still stuck fast, probably held in place by one of the creature’s limbs. And sure enough, there was the lump of the head, just at the surface, watching them. Perhaps with amusement, hunger, or was it making plans of its own? he wondered.

  Michael thought about the thing’s intelligence and predatorial abilities. It had taken Angela, selected her, from among them without waking any of them. Then it tricked Bruno into coming into the water where it was waiting for him. What would it try next, and who did it have its eyes on?

  He was still furious with Katya. She and the remains of her team had left them a cryptic warning about the beast, and Georgy’s missing leg told him they obviously encountered it.

  They had escaped the island but failed to mention what they did to achieve it. If he ever made it back to the surface one day, he’d be sure to ask her how.

  Michael walked back to rejoin the group. “It’s still there, watching.”

  “Good,” Wenton said as he stopped Andy from climbing out of the grave. “Please bring dear Georgy out of his grave. And be gentle with him.”

  Jamison and Andy carefully lifted the ancient bo
dy up. It was like wood and seemed to weigh next to nothing. The pair held him up and Wenton walked a little closer.

  “Dear Georgy, we are in need of your help, my friend.” He turned and grinned at the group, but then faced Andy. “Andy, please loan Mr. Georgy your clothing.”

  “What?” Andy scowled.

  “Just the shirt,” Michael said.

  Andy grumbled as he shed the remnants of the shirt he wore and handed it over. Wenton then carefully pulled it over Georgy’s skeletal frame.

  As he did, Michael tried to imagine the tall, handsome man that Katya had described to them. But in the skeletal remains, he could see nothing but death. The old woman he had met in the hospital had buried her long-lost lover down here nearly half a century ago. And now they were going to desecrate her work.

  “Sorry, Katya,” he muttered. But your silence left us no choice.

  The next task Wenton had them perform was to create a stand out of a flat piece of bark and a straight stick. They used some of their remaining rope to lash Georgy to it, so he stood upright, with the new shirt adding to the lifelike ruse.

  “Ready for action.” Wenton smiled. “And now to add something to give our many-armed friend a little indigestion.”

  The man set about tying his full stick of dynamite to Georgy’s back. He finished by pushing a detonator pin in but held off setting the timer.

  “All set.” He rubbed his hands together and then turned. “Mr. Monroe, the floor is yours.”

  “Why Michael?” Jane’s mouth dropped open. “Harry, it’s your idea, you do it.”

  Wenton shook his head as he continued to adjust the clothing on the corpse. “I supply the brains, my dear. Plus the dynamite. Michael supplies the brawn.” He stood back. “Now, do we want to get off this island or not?”

  Michael shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

  “Good man.” Wenton smirked. “Take Mr. Georgy down the beach away from our boat. Wouldn’t want to damage our ride now, would we? Oh, and good luck.”

  *****

  Jane watched as Michael lifted the stiff corpse and walked it a few hundred feet down the beach and away from where the boat was stuck. Immediately, from out near the craft, the lump submerged, and she knew it was following Michael and the corpse from under the water, because the boat drifted along beside him.