Kraken Rising

CHAPTER 32

“Do you know what one of my favorite books was, when I was a kid?” Cate Canning stood with hands on hips, smiling dreamily. “At the Earth’s Core.” She turned slowly, sighing. Alex ignored her.

“It was written by Edgar Rice Burroughs, just over one hundred years ago. It’s about a hidden world within our world.”

“Hm-hmm.” Alex stopped to use his scanner once again.

“Do you know how the scientists first got there?” She knew he probably wouldn’t know, so continued. “They used a machine they called the ‘Iron Mole’ to drill down through the crust. Guess from where?” She waited this time.

“I’m guessing, the South Pole,” Alex said without looking up.

“Exactly. Is this not fiction becoming true?”

“I preferred his Tarzan series myself.” Alex half smiled, but motioned to the deeper forest. “C’mon, this way.”

They threaded their way through the hairy trunks of the Prototaxites and pulpy looking plants pushing back at them at waist level. But as they moved further from the shoreline, the flora changed, becoming more dense and, if possible, even stranger.

Cate pointed as she walked, giving Alex a running commentary. “Glossopteris, or some sort of gymnosperm, anyway. Hmm, but the leaves are all wrong.” She paused to look up at the twilight ceiling. “You know, it’s like a Valdivian rainforest, but it survives with little light. All these plants are relics from the Pangaean supercontinent. They share common characteristics from relic forests, but have adapted, just like ferns and mosses, to a permanent low-light environment.”

She strode across a large pile of what looked like dried sphagnum moss. “Hundreds of millions of years ago, ferns learned how to share genetic material to allow them to survive in extremely low-light environments. I think the plants here have done the same. They’re now getting most of their nutrients from the soil.”

“Not just from the soil.” Alex pointed to a weird looking tree trunk that had what appeared to be a huge spiny bug wrapped tight in sticky tendrils. “Seems they’re quite happy to eat a bit of meat now and then.”

Cate snorted and walked closer to the glistening mass. “Blood and bone — we feed it to our roses.”

“Looks like it’s self serve down here.” Alex’s head whipped around. “Hey, hold up.”

“Huh?” Cate turned, and seeing his face, spun to also stare into the dark forest. “What is it?”

“Movement,” Alex said. “Back up.”

Cate eased back, one foot carefully behind the other. Her rear foot sank into a mat of the sphagnum moss, eliciting a hiss, and then something shot from underneath it. It moved like a snake, but with small spindly legs flicking madly. Cate leapt backwards.

“Shit!”

“Quiet!” Alex turned, frowning. “It was just a snake.”

“It had legs. You know, it could have been a dinilysia. That was one of the snake’s earliest ancestors.” She kicked over the moss-mound, revealing a clutch of small eggs. She knelt down and reached into the pile, lifting one and squeezing it slightly. “Soft shell.” She shook her head. “I would kill to bring one of these back.”

Alex grunted. “Good to know we won’t starve.”

Cate looked horrified. “Over my dead body.”

Alex half smiled. “You go a few days without food, you’ll eat ’em, and eat ’em raw.” He motioned to the forest. “Come on… and watch where you step, Professor.”

Cate exhaled, loitering for a moment before getting to her feet. “You know what?” She grinned. “My bucket list is now officially empty.”

Alex half turned. “Mine still has get out alive in it, and about now, it’s close to the top.” He turned away. “Let’s follow the path.”

“Yeah, right, the path,” Cate said, scoffing. “You do know this is a game trail?”

“I know… but I’m kinda hoping it’s an old and unused one right now,” Alex said without turning.

They walked in silence for another fifteen minutes, Cate stopping from time to time to examine something on a trunk, or among the forest floor debris. She wiped her brow.

“It’s so hot down here. Must be geothermal activity.”

“Yeah.”

Cate followed Alex, her head craned to the ceiling again. “The blue glow makes it look like late sunset. The sun has just gone down, but the last blush of light remains — beautiful. It’s some sort of bioluminescence — either floral or faunal.”

“Glow worms.” Alex looked up. “Billons and billions of them.”

Cate snorted. “I should probably just shut up. But you know what? If you shared a bit more, it would save me from having to flap my lips all the time.” She increased her pace to catch up. “And how the hell doesn’t anyone know about this place?”

Alex stopped and turned. “Because if they did, there’d be a thousand of you on the ice, and a hundred of you below it. This is a designated restricted zone — off limits to everyone. It’s no greenhouse, or petting zoo, or nature sanctuary, where you walk behind safety barriers. I lost an entire team down here, and it is the most deadly place on Earth, bar none.”

“Under,” Cate said. “Not on Earth, but under it.”

Alex half smiled, but it held little humor. “You need to take this very seriously, Professor Canning. Just about every second creature down here will either eat you, try to eat you, or at least do a good job of making a damned mess out of you.”

“Oh, we’re back to Professor Canning now, are we?” She waited, hands on hips, but Alex didn’t bite. She exhaled loudly. “Okay, okay.” Then titled her head. “It’s just, I’ve studied this all my life.” She waved a hand around. “But it’s always been echoes of the real thing that vanished millions of years ago. I can’t count the number of times I sat alone, wondering what some of these things would be like if they were alive today — what color would they be? What would they sound like, smell like? And now…” She grinned, arms out.

“I know all I need to know. We stay away from them, we stay alive.” Alex checked his tracker. “Come on.”

They marched on, and soon the land dipped and became spongy beneath their feet. Water squelched up with every step they took, and the plants lifted themselves up even higher on long mangrove-like root legs. The smell of damp and rot was all-pervading.

Cate bent and swished her hand through a puddle. “It’s almost hot.” She sniffed her fingers. “Fresh, but very brackish.”

“Careful,” Alex said. Their pace slowed, as they needed to weave around ponds that held greenish water of unknown depths. In one, an insect the size of a cherry flew lazily over the surface, to suddenly be speared from the oil-still surface and then vanish below its green algal blanket.

Cate watched, transfixed for a second or two, before going and kneeling beside one of the larger ponds. Bubbles popped and the surface swirled with languid movement below. She grabbed the stem of a fern frond to wipe it across the water’s surface, so she could see into its depths.

“Ha.” She dipped the frond in like a giant paddle, dragging it back towards herself. She hauled her prize up onto the soggy bank.

The foot-long black creature flipped and flopped, looking glossy black under the blue light of the bioluminescent glow from the ceiling.

“Pollywog,” she said and grinned up at Alex.

“Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“Yep, that, is a tadpole… a huge, monstrous tadpole.” She cursed. “Arg, why didn’t I bring a camera? I’m an idiot.” She got to her feet. “When I was a kid, I had a stream down at the far edge of our yard that had frogs, eels, and tortoises living in it. I spent hours just lying on the bank watching them.” She used the frond like a broom to sweep the tadpole back towards the water. “I bet that’s a Beelzebufo ampinga larvae. Called the devil frog — long extinct on the surface, but it had jaws like a bear trap and grew to nearly two feet in length. Could’ve eaten a small dog.”

She dropped the frond. “Hmm, but why can’t we hear them? Frogs are some of the noisiest creatures on the planet. Something that big should be near deafening.”

“That, like most things down here, has learned to be quiet. So should you.” Alex pointed off into the distance where there was a rise to a rocky plateau — it was miles away. “I think there’s a waterfall way back there. That’s where the fresh water is coming from, and I’m betting they all empty into the sea around here. There’ll be a stream we can follow. The signal seems to be coming from the far cliffs.”

Cate continued to look out over the pond. She inhaled deeply, drawing in all the scents of brackish water, decay, damp mosses, and rich earth. I’m in a prehistoric jungle miles below the earth’s surface. She smiled at the insane thought. From when she was a little girl, poking sticks into frog ponds, or turning over stones in tidal pools, this was what drew her to her profession like a magnet. It was what she had dreamed of — no, not this — this was beyond anything she could have dreamed. Her smile widened and she looked over her shoulder at Alex, the man’s dangerously handsome features now twisted in either contemplation or concern. But she wasn’t concerned; down here felt like she had landed right in heaven. She knew she would never, ever get this chance again.

Alex turned to her, catching her looking at him. “At least we get to move out of this coastal jungle.” He raised his eyebrows. “But no more diversions until we get there. We’re not here for a picnic, got it?”

“Nope.” She turned back to the pond. “No more.”

Alex turned. “What? Tired, need a break?

“Not at all. In fact, I’m totally invigorated.” Cate waved an arm about. “See this? All of this? It’s my life’s work. So, no, I’m not asking for a picnic, just a minute or two now and then, and maybe you can share a little more of what you know.” Alex ignored her, and she folded her arms. “You wouldn’t even be down here if not for me.”

Alex turned, his expression hardening for a moment. “Maybe. Look, I know we have different objectives. But as soon as we find the submarine, then you can spend a little time on exploration — provided it’s safe. Okay?

“No, Alex.” She smiled flatly. “This is both my objective and my passion. All my life I’ve dreamed of this, ever since I was that kid lying on a muddy bank somewhere. How can I pass it by?” She shrugged. “I can’t. You go find your missing submarine; it’s your job. But for me, my job is this… paradise.” She waved an arm about again. “You go, I’ll be fine. Swing past on the way back.”

“Oh for Chrissake.” Alex rubbed a hand up through sweat-slicked hair. “Cate, down here is nothing like you’ve ever known. It’s not the Everglades, it’s not the Congo, or even the Amazon, and it sure as hell isn’t a paradise. It’s hell for human beings — everything down here wants to eat you. I can’t begin to…”

She held up a hand. “I know, I know.” She shrugged. “I’ll be careful.”

Alex stared at her for a few moments. He pulled one of his Ka-bar knives from a sheath at his back, and handed the seven-inch black blade to her.

“I can’t promise I’ll be back. So stay silent, keep your head down, and… good luck.” He turned and left.

Cate stood open-mouthed for a moment, not really expecting him to simply leave. “Wow.” She stuck the blade on her belt. “Thanks, and you still owe me a drink.”

He was already gone.

Cate had used the knife to sharpen the stalk of a dried frond into a multi-purpose spear, walking stick, and probe, and used it to carefully move through the thickening fronds. Perspiration ran down her face and stung her eyes. She had pulled the wetsuit down and tied its arms around her waist. Her white t-shirt was already stained and stuck slickly to her from the rivulets of sweat that streamed from her.

She stopped and lifted her canteen to her lips. It was only a third full. Not good, as she was losing a lot of fluid. She’d need to find water soon, as drinking the brackish pond-soup was out of the question. She felt confident, as she’d been in jungles before, and one thing a place like this wasn’t short of was drinkable water — you just need to know where to look. She pushed through another frond barrier and grinned.

“Oh wow.”

There was a small lake, around a hundred feet across, with an algae-covered island about forty feet out at its center. Heavy fronds overhung the water’s edge, and there was the soft purr of insect wings beating furiously as they hovered over the surface.

“I’m in heaven,” she whispered and squatted on the bank, pulling herself into a small ball and gripping her knees. A smile of wonder on her lips, she was content to just stay idle and watch as a scene straight from prehistory played out in real time, just for her.

She stayed motionless, letting her eyes move along the bank. On the far side, there was a fallen tree trunk, and a shiver of movement caught her attention. Crawling along its top was a reptile — no, not a reptile — the breath caught in her throat. It was something far more fantastic.

The creature turned in her direction, staring with ruby-red eyes. It was about six feet long and had a stiff sail along its back. It was mottled green and brown, and expertly camouflaged. Its hide wasn’t scaled, but instead was pebbled and leathery, and it ended in a box-like head that looked like it was made of solid bone. Powerful jaws hung open, and were studded with needle-like teeth.

“Dimetrodon,” she whispered. “But you guys were as big as rhinos. Are you a juvenile?”

She squinted, concentrating. The creature didn’t look young. “Perhaps you’ve shrunk.”

Dwarfism maybe, she thought. The same thing happened to mammoths when they were trapped on islands. Over many millennia, they grew smaller to fit their environments. The last vestiges of the great beasts were in Crete, where the population was all under four feet tall, she remembered. This is an entire world down here, but a small one.

Giants in the water, but maybe everything else had shrunk to accommodate their smaller landmass. “A world of tiny dinosaurs.” She grinned, feeling safer by the second. “But big frogs. Hey, I can live with that.”

The Dimetrodon slipped away. Damn, she thought, watching for a few moments for it to reappear. Eventually, she turned back to the pond. The water was dark and didn’t look inviting in any way, but she longed to see what was below the surface. There was occasional movement as the pondweed swirled, meaning something was moving beneath the algal blanket.

Cate tried to imagine what sort of creatures there could be, her imagination fired by the previous monstrous tadpole. There’d been bony fish around for hundreds of millions of years, and primitive air-breathing lungfish and their lobe-finned variants since the Paleozoic period.

The pond surface swirled and flipped only half a dozen feet from the bank where she crouched. She desperately wanted to get a glimpse of what was in the water. After all, she had ditched Alex Hunter to observe this world, so…

She lifted her sharpened stick, looking at its end, thinking, justifying. She could spear one — just one — all in the name of science, she convinced herself. She got slowly to her feet and walked carefully down the bank.

She placed one foot in the water, and paused, looking up to check her surroundings. She frowned. The small island at the pond’s center seemed closer — now only about twenty feet from the bank. She watched it for a moment. A large bug alighted on it, and then flew away. Everything was still and quiet. An optical illusion or I’m just tired, she thought.

Cate placed another foot in the water, and stared down, frowning again. It was no use, the darkness made even the shallow water difficult to see. She pulled her flashlight, flicked it on, and pointed the beam down. She crouched.

Life, lots of it. Things whirled and whizzed past her circle of light. There were crustaceans, but unlike anything she had ever seen living or from any fossil record. Long bodies, spines on their backs, and jagged claws held out stiffly before them. A tiny eel wriggled past, and then something like a salamander with a wedge-shaped head momentarily investigated the light before twisting away.

Cate stood slightly bent over and leaned out further. From the new angle she could see something bumping along in the shallows. She moved quickly, spear poised, but then smiled and turned to toss the spear up onto the bank behind her. She bent over to scoop up the creature.

“Hello, beautiful.” She grunted from the weight and turned the foot-and-a-half long thing around to look into its face. It was some sort of tortoise, with a bony head and heavily clawed toes. Its shell was oval and the huge plates overlapped almost like giant scales that had been welded together into its armor.

“Hmm, Pleurosternon, maybe, or something new?” The thing hissed in her hands, its beak snapping at the air. “Easy there, fella. I’m not going to eat you.” She looked at the patterning on its back — more like wood grain than the usual tortoise coloring. Tortoise were long-lived creatures, and as everything else here had a nice coating of moss and algae, the tortoise’s shell should too.

“How did you avoid getting covered?” She put it down on the bank, and flipped it over, eliciting another round of furious hissing as the thing bicycled its legs in the air.

“Oh, hell.”

The answer became clear — because it hadn’t lived long enough — yet. The creature was a juvenile. The pond water surged slightly up on the bank in front of her. Cate’s head whipped up, alert now. The small island was even closer, only a dozen feet from the bank… and from her.

She flipped the baby tortoise back into the water, and rose slowly to her feet.

“Sorry mama, no harm no foul.” She started to back away from the water. Alex Hunter’s words run again in her ears: Everything down here wants to eat you, eat you, eat you…

Cate reached down for her spear. “Okay, we’re a-aaall good here. Saying goodbye now.”

She held the spear out in front of her as she backed away. One foot after another, easing back until her next footfall came down on something soft that wriggled furiously under her foot. She shrieked and leapt to the side, landing hard on her ass and elbow.