Hollow Earth

by John M. Davis

  "You've done well," he began. "You've learned enough about the weapon to keep yourself alive. That's all I can ask."

  "Why are you helping me?" I asked.

  I had to know. Clary had befriended me in a way that was unusual among the witchers. He'd went above and beyond for me.

  "Walk with me," he replied. And we did. Walking away from our small group and into the busy streets of Toma, Clary's words were genuine. "You remind me of myself, once upon a time. I'm from a very small town and I had no one to show me the way of survival. Most of those around me either felt shame for me or felt nothing at all. But the one who used to lead the witcher...he taught me. I figured I would return the favor by helping you. It took the courage of a leader to leave your friend behind in order to save the woman. For that alone, I must prepare you for the role of leader - just in case."

  "What do you know about the feared?"

  Clary looked at me with suspicion.

  "I consider you a good friend," I admitted. "But there are many things I do not understand. The feared are among them."

  "The feared are not something that most of us wish to talk about," he replied. "They are demigods...or magic...I'm not sure how to explain them. But they are evil. Few have escaped their grasp and those who have are never quite the same."

  "I am going to tell you something and I need you to believe me, rather than think I've gone mad." I said. Clary had become the truest friend I had.

  For a moment, I looked across the busy streets and it seemed dreamlike to me. People carried fresh bread and ancient weapons. The entire city was a place of trade. Some dealt in legal goods and others made deals in the shadows.

  Clary looked on - waiting.

  "The feared are not demigods," I said. "They come from a world above this one. A place we call the surface. I know this because I come from there, too."

  His gaze onto me was not reassuring. Either he now feared me or completely doubted my story. Perhaps both.

  "I am not one of the feared," I began. "But I was seeking them out on the surface in order to prove their existence. The armies of the surface would have ended them. Not only did I find the feared, but I, along with two of my friends, found our way here. I wish to return, but the only way to get home is to find the feared. I believe they have a way back to the surface, for me...a way home.""

  "I am not sure what to say." Clary replied.

  I could hear supreme doubt in his voice.

  "I know what this story must sound like...but it's true."

  "Most of us know where the feared live, but we wouldn't dare journey there. To attempt such a journey would be foolish. Tomorrow we will speak more. I can put you in the right direction, but I will not accompany you."

  "Thank you." I replied.

  "This place...this surface-"

  "In many ways it's just like the world around us know," I began. "There are cities and there are many people, all of them different. Some of them can be trusted and others can not. We also know of war and hunger; things that a civilized world should have cured long ago."

  "We study on the belief that there is a world in our sky. A place where people live together in unison. A world without suffering." Clary admitted.

  "There is a world above yours," I reached into my pocket and pulled a quarter out. It was as shiny as I'd ever seen, with the face of George Washington on its front. "This is all I have to remind me of that world above. I want you to have it."

  "Coin?"

  "Yea," I said. "In my world, this can buy a great many things." I lied.

  Clary clinched the quarter as though it were a hundred bricks of gold. I had fully expected my next quarter to be spent on overpriced coffee somewhere in Buenos Aires - not given to a primitive warrior who'd trained me to be the same.

  But they say that every quarter has a story.

  ?

  As we returned to the small campsite the witchers had called their own, I felt a tremendous bond with Clary. Each group or traveler inside Toma had their place. Those with a great deal of money stayed in the lavish hotels in and around the city's center. Most of those who came to the city, ourselves included, camped in large spots designated for camping. Ours included a thick wooden table, a fire pit and several tents, which we'd brought along ourselves.

  Instantly, rage stuck through me.

  We returned to see several of the witchers groping Tara against her will. They'd apparently wasted very little time after Clary and I had left, and her body was now at the mercy of horny men and their wondering hands. Most importantly, Stubbs was involved. He grinned ear to ear, holding her in place.

  I sprinted with panic and without thinking, pushed Stubbs, causing him to stumble awkwardly and ultimately fall. I then drew my sword on the rest and they held out hands of apology. I didn't care. Seeing Tara crying was enough cause for me to slay the lot of them, or die trying.

  "Jack!" Clary shouted with warning.

  I held my sword at the ready, but eased up just a bit. Realizing exactly what I'd done out of pure emotion. By now, Stubbs was back to his feet and preparing his ax for battle. A few lessons with the sword wouldn't be enough to save my life. I doubted that Clary himself could have bested the brute of a warrior.

  "Tara is spoken for!" I shouted. Hoping to reason with them.

  Stubbs was having none of it. He was preparing himself to die, if needed be, though I could tell by looking at him that he believed he'd live long after this fight. It would be me who did the dying.

  "Stubbs!" Clary said loudly.

  "Don't," the big man cautioned. Pointing his finger at Clary while never taking his eyes off of me. "You know our code."

  "But he doesn't."

  "Well I plan to educate him the hard way."

  "Stubbs, I'm warning you." Clary said. Drawing his own weapon.

  "Fine," Stubbs growled. "I'll fight the lot of you if that's what it takes. But the rules are simple. When a woman travels with witchers, she either kills in our defense or she gives herself to the strongest warrior. She earns her keep. Now if the newcomer wants to test me as to who the strongest warrior is, I'm happy to oblige. That goes for any of you!" he shouted. "But rules are rules."

  Clary looked to me with defeat.

  "You can't be serious?" I asked.

  "Stubbs is right. Our way is that any woman who travels under our protection, warms the bed of the strongest warrior. When two warriors disagree, they fight to the death. It's customary among our people."

  "Goddammit!" I shouted.

  "Now...boy...either you concede or I'll cut you down like a withering stalk of corn. Your choice, but choose quickly. My crotch throbs."

  "I held up my sword and prepared for the fight.

  "I'll go with Stubbs." Tara said.

  "No-" I began.

  "I'll not watch you die for me." she replied.

  I intended to go after her and stop Stubbs by the trunk of my sword. Instead, Clary grabbed hold of me and did what he could to save my life. Tears flowed from my eyes, but deep inside I knew the truth.

  Stubbs was stronger than any of us.

  For what felt like at least two hours solid, I sat by our campfire and listened to Tara scream. Stubbs tore into her like a wild animal. Soon, her agony turned into pleasure and I had to question who was deflowering whom.

  There was no blocking it out - I tried. With their tent only ten or so feet away, I could hear every heavy breath. Every slapping of ass could be heard by dozens of campsites nearby. Finally, as it came to a halt, Stubbs was the first to exit the tent.

  He wore nothing but sackcloth across his groin and it was the first time I'd seen his chest. Nearly a hundred scars from past wounds littered across his torso and back. He grinned from ear to ear, finding a bottle of strong wine. Stubbs wasted no time turning it upside down. And I hoped he choked on the concoction of strawberries and hooch.

  Tara had taken a bit more time, emerging from the tent fully-clothed. Rather than following Stubbs to his desired spot of drinking,
she sat beside me and remained quiet. So did I. What more was there to say?

  ?

  That night, most of the witchers slept like rocks. Especially Stubbs, who'd snored from the time he first fell in a drunken, sex-crazed stupor. Both Tara and I had been awake much longer, and we both remained quiet. I had finally nodded off a few hours after first laying down on my sleeping roll.

  My eyes opened with sudden fear as a sword plunged into the soil, narrowly missing my face in the process.

  "You need to go," Clary said. "Both of you."

  "What-" I began. Returning his whisper with one of my own.

  "Stubbs means to kill you."

  "But I let him-"

  "I know you did," he replied to Tara. "And that saved Jack's life today. But tomorrow will come soon enough. Stubbs intends to give you the same thrashing down below five or six times a day and the first time Jack speaks up - he'll kill him. The others have confirmed it for me. Stubbs boasted about his plans."

  "I could fight him." I said.

  "And you would die," Clary replied. "At which point Tara would be a virtual sex slave until someone finally bested Stubbs. And that's not likely to happen anytime soon. It's better if you both go now."

  "Where?" she asked.

  "Jack...do you remember what we discussed earlier?"

  "Yea." I replied.

  "Off into the distance," he began. "Follow the three largest mountains. There are many things out there, Jack. Things far worse than Stubbs' addiction to women. You may not survive the journey, but at least you'll have a chance."

  "I have to try." I replied.

  "I know you do," Clary said. "I'll make sure Stubbs doesn't follow you. He may try, but that's not part of our code. I can keep him at bay."

  "Thank you."

  "I've put together a small pack of supplies. It's not much."

  Tara reached over and hugged Clary for his kindness.

  "You should get going."

  I nodded my appreciation to the man who'd proven himself to be a true friend. The three mountains he'd spoken of were very far off, but visible. They would serve as our compass going forward.

  I wasn't sure what to say to Tara.

  I only tried to be kind and quiet. She'd need time to get past what had happened. So would I. Everything I felt for her remained - and then some.

  Chapter 7

  We had traveled until Toma was completely out of sight. And then, if I were to estimate, we traveled at least three more days.

  The hike had been complete hell on my feet and I imagined that it had affected Tara in much the same way. She was too proud to admit it, of course. If anything, I had learned that this rightful princess of a throne somewhere here in the savage land was stubborn.

  Tara would have marched until her own death, had I not intervened. She was tough in that respect. For every sliver of beauty, and she had many; Tara was also as tough as they came. She had spoken very little at all since we escaped with our lives, and she'd certainly not spoken of her time with Stubbs.

  I dared not bring it up.

  "We should rest." I finally submitted.

  Tara offered no resistance. We'd marched solid grasslands for the duration and there were few hills to overcome - thank God for that. But we'd hiked at a very quick pace, whereas Clary had promised to hold Stubbs at bay.

  In his opinion, Stubbs was sex-crazed and always had been. But he'd quickly lose interest in Tara and move on to some other poor wench who was none the wiser. Someone who sought his protection and would consider exchanging duties in her bed for it. And, should Clary be wrong about Stubbs' ambitions, we would have traveled far enough to lose his lust forever. While the big man was one hell of a warrior, he was certainly no tracker. That job fell to Clary and he'd assured us that he would help us escape.

  At the end of the day, he and Stubbs were close friends. But, whereas Stubbs lacked a conscience and concerned himself only with the next meal, a swig of man drink and a soft-skinned woman in his bed, Clary understood right and wrong. He wished to remain friends with Stubbs while doing the right thing.

  Hence our getaway.

  "It would be wise if we avoided using a fire for the next few days...just in case. The smoke will draw attention." I suggested.

  She replied with a nod.

  "Are you OK?"

  Perhaps it was over the line, but I didn't care. My heart had ached for Tara since she'd been forced into explicit acts in an effort to save my skin.

  Glancing to me for a moment, she offered nothing.

  "I just want to make sure you're-"

  "Can we just not speak of it again?" Tara asked.

  It was a fair request. I didn't know the first damn thing about being in her position, nor would I insult her by trying to pretend I did. Instead, I graciously nodded.

  "You look beautiful." I said. Placing a hand to her chin.

  And it was a mistake on my part. Quickly, she turned away and said nothing. Rather than press the issue, I did what I could to begin collecting the things we'd need in order to survive the next day or two.

  ?

  I found it hard to sleep, choosing instead to watch over Tara as she slept soundly. Every ounce of her beauty rested upon a large pile of leaves that I had gathered, with a bedroll atop them.

  For me, the thought of seeing Hunter laying dead would not leave my mind. Even as I pressed my eyelids shut and cursed at the memory of it, I couldn't escape his look of pain and betrayal - all because of me.

  Macho had suffered the same fate. Or at least a similar fate, as I had no idea of his health or whereabouts. If Macho was lucky, he was still enslaved by ape men...ape men! And if his luck had turned, I had no doubts about the fact that he, too, was dead.

  All because of me.

  All because of my burning desire to know the truth.

  But why? That was the one thing that haunted me above all else. What could I have possibly done to right the side of history had I found out Adolf Hitler had indeed escaped? The answer is nothing. I could have done nothing.

  I had discovered this painfully savage place by mistake. I was lost here, with very little hope of ever returning home. I lay at a small campsite with one of the prettiest women I've ever seen, yet she had no idea about the man I truly was.

  Tara knew nothing about the surface. She'd never celebrated Christmas or watched football. She'd never experienced the serenity of a quiet coffee shop or surfed on the internet. For these people, religion was a belief that there was a world above them. And there was! I know, because I was born and raised there. But the people on the surface had no idea about this savage land below their feet.

  How long had this place been intact? Decades? Millennia? Who had constructed it? These were the things that I longed to know. Looking up hundreds, if not thousands of feet to the sky of this underworld, this magical blue rock reflected its calming glow. Just as it always did. Who had designed this! Tara couldn't answer any of these things. She'd only known of this strange world and to her, it wasn't strange in the least.

  I could speak of oceans and sky, yet she would know of her oceans and her sky. How could I possibly explain my world to her? This is the struggle than consumed my thoughts...right up until I fell asleep.

  ?

  As I awoke the following morning, a strange feeling draped across me - as did puffy flakes of snow that shouldn't have been there.

  Sitting up quickly, I began wondering how snow was possible this far beneath the surface. Surely there had to be an explanation. I could feel the chill in the air; the temperature had certainly changed. At last, I figured that somehow, during the hot stretch of the day before, the water of this strange land had evaporated and then brushed against the blue rocks of the dome above us that was so high up. If the stones were cold enough, in theory, they could have turned the moisture into snow.

  And it was snowing heavily.

  Tara had dug around inside of our only bag and found two buckskin throws. They were crude, but had been very wel
l stitched and we were glad to have them. I checked them over to assure that Tara had the warmest and then placed the other across my own shivering body. We had slept through the night near both water and thick fields of green grass. Now, we could see neither. Snow whipped thorough our campsite as though we were trapped in some large snow globe of destiny.

  "I'm not from this place." I admitted.

  Tara shivered as well, placing her shoulder against mine.

  She looked at me with a lack of understanding.

  "You know of the feared?"

  "Yes," she replied with great hesitation. "Everyone knows of the feared. They are capable of a great many terrors."

  "I am not one of them," I went on. "But I am from the same world."

  I waited for some sort of a reply - anything. Finally, Tara turned to me.

  "How can that be?"

  "How can any of this be?" I asked. "We are miles beneath the surface of a world that I've always known as my home. Up there, we continue to search for life on other planets while life lives below our feet. Who built this place? How old is it and why does it snow? These questions are driving me mad."

  "And you're not a feared?"

  "No," I insisted. "On the surface we call them Nazis and we believed they were all dead. I'm here because I learned of their possible existence under the ground...but I expected a bunker of some type. Not this-"

  I cut myself off in mid-sentence, looking around to see a world that was both eerie and serene. This place, this world beneath Earth's surface was nearly as large as the world above. Complete land masses, oceans; and the stones above that had been hand set. By angels or devils - who knew.

  "If I can find these feared, there is a chance that I can return home."

  "No one looks for these monsters among men willingly." Tara replied.

  "I do," I said, turning to face her. "And the people of this strange land may fear them, but I don't. I know how their weapons work. I can match their wits. If I could somehow return home to let our armies know about these feared, perhaps we could return here and eliminate them forever."