On the High Road to Oblivion

Chapter 16—Land of the Dead

“Everyone! Go through that hole,” Dodge shouted.

“We don’t know what’s on the other side.”

In the urgency of the moment, Dodge couldn’t tell who had lodged that protest. “We know what’s on this side. Go! Now!”

He spun the wave projector around, aiming it into the mass of approaching creatures, and turned it on.

The vibrations filled the cavern once more, but this time the sensation was marginally more tolerable. Although they were surrounded by adamantine ore, most of the wave energy was expended on the flesh of the bestial swarm. Several of the creatures in the center of the group simply dropped as their bones were pulverized. The rest peeled away, shrieking like the damned, but were nevertheless momentarily rendered helpless as the invisible waves reverberated through the metal walls of the cavern and permeated their bodies.

Dodge did not linger to survey his handiwork, but turned to see Vaughn squirming through the hole in the “gate.” Nora, Fiona and Barron had apparently already gone through. Hurricane was at Dodge’s side, his pistols drawn and ready.

“Your turn,” Dodge said, turning the wave device to sweep the tunnel with its invisible energy. “I’m right behind you.”

Hurricane holstered the guns and clapped Dodge on the shoulder. “You’d better be.”

As soon as the big man stuck his head and shoulders into the opening, Dodge made one final adjustment to the projector, tilting it back so that its energy pounded into the rock overhead. The vibrations immediately increased to a fever pitch and fine particles of sand began to pour down from the ceiling, but Dodge had no intention of turning it off now. He gritted his teeth against the near-paralyzing agony, and thrust himself into the hole with such force that he shot out the other side and tumbled into the darkness.

Before Dodge could even raise his head to take stock of his surroundings, the earth groaned and a different kind of tremor shuddered through the stone beneath his feet as the ceiling above the abandoned wave projector collapsed in a thunderous cave in. The vibrations ceased instantly, as did the screams of the enraged creatures.

Hurricane aimed a flashlight and one of his pistols into the hole, but the only thing that came through after them was sand, pouring through the opening like water from a pipe. The flow trickled to a stop within seconds, but there was little doubt that the other end was completely covered in debris.

Dodge sagged back against the wall, struggling to shake off the effects of the vibrations and the post-adrenaline fatigue. It’s not over, he reminded himself. “Is everyone okay?”

“Where’s Erik?” Barron asked.

Erik. The crewman from Majestic. Dodge felt sick as an image of the man’s horrible demise flashed in his mind’s eye. “He didn’t make it.”

“Dodge. Look.” Nora stood nearby, shining her light away from the wall, into the darkness of the cavern, and Dodge groaned as the expectation of some new and probably much worse threat sent a new surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

What now?

He took in his immediate surroundings first: the huddled group of explorers; Hurricane with flashlight and pistol, bracing for another attack; Barron, clutching his rucksack full of adamantine ore; Newcombe, Fiona, Vaughn… unhurt, confused, with just one electric lamp between them. Nora was closer to Dodge, but he now saw her wrapped in a strange mist that shimmered in the diffuse light. The cloud was thickest near the cavern floor, which was almost completely obscured, but whorls of vapor filled the rest of the vast chamber. The beam from Nora’s lamp looked like a solid glowing shaft as it stabbed out through the misty darkness.

His other senses began transmitting a rush of information as well. His skin registered a strange tingling, like the mild burn of mentholatum oil or a freshly sliced onion. He tasted and smelled it too; the sharp odor of sulfur, but something else that he couldn’t quite pin down. After only a few breaths, he realized that he was starting to feel lightheaded.

Poisonous gas?

If the air was toxic, then it was already too late for all of them, but for the moment, the effects seemed mostly benign.

His gaze finally reached the objective Nora was illuminating. He had half-expected to find another group of the strange pale creatures advancing toward them, but this was nothing like that.

“My God!” Fiona exclaimed as she turned her light onto the distant target. “It’s amazing. We’ve found the city of Hades.”

The tiny circles of light could barely capture the grandeur of the subterranean necropolis, but everywhere the beams touched, they revealed elaborate staircases and columns, hewn out of solid rock. The nearest of the structures was only about fifty yards away — a bridge that spanned the acid river as it wended into the heart of the strange city. Its arch joined with the rock on either side of the river, well above the corrosive flow. The furthest extent of the city lay far beyond the reach of the flashlight beams. Yet, the architecture was not the most fantastic aspect of the place.

“Turn off the lights,” Dodge said. He heard grumbles of protest. “Just for a moment.”

One by one, the beams switched off, plunging them into darkness. The sudden loss of visual cues triggered a mild wave of vertigo, probably intensified by the omnipresent fumes.

“Is this really a good idea?” Vaughn asked.

“Give it a minute.” Dodge strained his eyes, willing his pupils to dilate, wondering if he had really seen what he thought he had.

“I’ll be damned,” Hurricane whispered. “It’s glowing.”

Dodge recalled that his friend had always possessed exceptional night-vision, but after a few more seconds, he too saw it: a faint orange light spilling from walls of the cavern all around them.

“Phosphorescent lichens,” Newcombe explained. “It makes perfect sense. There would have to be an entire biological system down here to support those creatures.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vaughn said.

“A food chain. Those beasts were obviously carnivores; you saw their teeth. Carnivores have to have prey. The prey animals — insects probably, or small rodents — would also have to have a food source. On the surface, it would be plant life, but down here, plants can’t grow… not ordinary plants at least. Plants need energy to live and produce. These lichens must get their energy from chemical reactions instead of sunlight. I think we’ve found an entirely new type of ecological system.”

“Well, hooray for us,” Hurricane said sourly.

As the scientist spoke, Dodge’s eyes continued to adjust to the point where he could make out some of the outlines of columns and temple roofs.

Suddenly the image evaporated in a blaze of artificial light as Fiona switched on her lantern. “I’ll leave you to look at the local flora,” she said. “I simply must explore the city.”

“Wait…” Dodge’s protest fell on deaf ears. Fiona was already forging ahead, striding toward the bridge. He turned to the others, shaking his head. “She’s probably right. If we’re going to find a way out of here, we need to look around. But we should stay together.”

The remaining members of the group assented and quickly hurried to join the intrepid archaeologist. Dodge waited for Newcombe to pass and fell into step beside him. “What do you make of this mist?”

“It’s probably a mixture of evaporating acid and the byproduct of the chemical reaction that sustains the lichens. There might be some volcanic gases in the mix as well.”

“Is it poisonous?”

“So far the effects seem mild. Nevertheless, it goes without saying that it’s probably not the best thing for us to be breathing. The longer we’re exposed to it, the more likely we are to experience more dramatic consequences. Fatigue, hallucinations perhaps.”

“Getting out is pretty high on my list of priorities,” Dodge said. “This ecological system you mentioned… if it’s part of the food chain for those creatures, then that means they can get in here, right?”

“Ah, I see what you mean.” The scientist nodded enthusiastically. “If the creatures can move on both sides of the gate, then there must be another way out. Of course, their prey might be very small animals that can get through miniscule spaces in the rock. But yes, it’s quite probable that there is a network of passages running through the entire underground complex.”

“Meaning we ain’t seen the last of those things?” Hurricane asked from behind them.

Dodge didn’t answer. Instead, he quickened his pace and caught up to Fiona, just as she passed between two enormous columns that appeared to reach all the way to the ceiling of the cavern, evidently marking the entrance to the city.

“What have you figured out about this place?” he asked her. “Can you tell who built it?”

“No, and that’s what’s so fascinating.” She directed her light to a series of columns that lined a staircase that ascended to another tier of the city. Swirls of fog rolled off the structures at the touch of the light, creating ghostly shapes that danced and cavorted in the periphery of Dodge’s vision. Just a trick of the light, he thought, but then he recalled Newcombe’s warning about hallucinations resulting from exposure to the strange vapors. He shook his head and tried to concentrate on what Fiona was saying.

“Cumae was settled by Greeks in the seventh century BC, but most of their building projects didn’t really get underway until much later. During that period and in this region, they employed the Doric style of column building — columns assembled out of smaller pieces, stacked one atop another, gradually tapering toward the top, with a broader capital supporting the roof. The Etruscans who occupied most of northern Italy, and some of the area surrounding modern Naples, used a similar style of architecture, though they worked mostly in wood.”

“But this is different?”

“These columns don’t utilize the Doric tradition. They’re a single piece of stone, and perfectly straight.” She laid a hand on the nearest upright. “Smooth. No tool marks.

“This entire city, from what I can tell, appears to be carved from out of solid volcanic rock. That, in itself, isn’t so strange. The cities of Petra and Cappadocia were carved out of rock by ancient peoples, so the idea isn’t that outrageous. What’s different here is the level of detail and workmanship. There are false columns in Petra — facades, really — that are modeled after Roman and Greek styles, but the oldest parts of the city, the parts dating back to the same time period as the Greek settlement here, are square and much more utilitarian. This…” She gestured at the city. “This is a masterpiece. It would have taken a hundred years to carve this out, and thousands of laborers and craftsmen. And yet here it is, buried and forgotten. Why?”

“Didn’t Egyptian Pharaohs build elaborate tombs, and then bury them in the desert to keep them safe?”

“Nothing on this scale.” She turned to him, a look of awe in her eyes. “I honestly have no idea how, or even why, this place exists.”

“There will be time aplenty for you to uncover that secret,” Barron interjected, joining them. “But first we must accomplish our mission. You have led us to Tartarus, Miss Dunn. Now you must lead us out again.”

With palpable disappointment, Fiona nodded, and resumed her trek into the city. Newcombe caught up to Dodge a moment later and pulled him to the side of the path. Dodge expected to hear more biological observations, but the scientist had something else on his mind.

“Dodge, when I was in Antarctica, I had a… a glimpse of the past. I saw the ancients — the ones who built the Outpost. Their city looked just like this.”

“I wondered about that. This must be where they mined the adamantine to make their devices.”

Newcombe frowned as if Dodge had missed the point. “Their reach extended across the entire globe. I believe that may explain the similarities in the myths and legends of different cultures around the world. But their civilization was centered in Asia, far from here. It was their technology that enabled them to explore the rest of the world. They would have needed their devices to find this place and carve out the city.”

“So it’s a chicken-or-egg question.” Dodge tried to ponder the paradox, but his mind felt sluggish, mired in a mist-induced fugue. “Maybe they found a different source of the metal somewhere else, and then after getting established, used the technology to find and create this place.”

“Possibly. But I have another hypothesis. Some scientists theorize there is a network of connected caves that run throughout the earth’s crust, like the pores of a sponge. I think that may be how the ancients were able to find places like this. They must have extensively traveled the roads of the subterranean world.”

Hurricane, who had been listening from a few steps away, joined the conversation. “Do you mean there’s a tunnel here that leads to India?”

Newcombe nodded. “Or rather a tunnel that connects with another tunnel and another. And not just India. There are vast cave systems on every continent. Africa, South America… If we started walking, we might eventually reach Mammoth Cave, in Kentucky.”

“That’s a bit further than I’m prepared to travel right now.”

“You and me both, Hurricane.” Dodge said. “So, wandering around exploring the cave could get us lost forever. What are our other options?”

“The way we came in is the only sure pathway back to the surface.”

Hurricane scowled. “In case you hadn’t noticed, Doc, there’s a small army of ugly beasties between us and the exit door. And from what I can tell, Dodge’s little trick with that gizmo of yours brought the roof down, which is the only reason why those critters didn’t come in after us.”

“If there are other passages that connect this cavern with what’s on the other side, then those creatures may already be on their way here.”

Dodge studied the scientist’s face, looking for some small seedling of hope. “He’s right, Hurricane. Like it or not, our best chance to get out of here is to find a way to get back through that gate.”

Hurricane sighed. “I suppose digging is as good as walking. Won’t be easy though.”

“Maybe there’s a better way.” He glanced up the path and saw that the rest of the group was getting spread out. He called out to them, mindful of the fact that his shout might attract attention from the unseen denizens of the cavern. When they were finally assembled, Dodge led them all back to the bridge where he quickly explained the situation, leaving out Newcombe’s revelation about the link to the builders of the Outpost. “We can’t afford to spend hours looking for an exit,” he concluded. “And digging through the cave in could take even longer, but I think there’s another way through the gate. The river has been eating away at that wall for centuries. The gate is thinnest there, and there are already cracks that the river flows through. We might be able to break through to the other side.”

“Not to rain on your parade,” Vaughn countered. “But you do remember that the river is made of pure sulfuric acid, don’t you?”

Dodge nodded. “That river has been here a long time. It was here when they built the city; that’s why there’s this bridge. We need to look around and find something we can use to build a platform or a causeway.”

Hurricane leaned over the side of the bridge and cast his light down onto the fog shrouded surface of the river. “How ‘bout a boat?”

It was, in retrospect, ridiculously obvious.

The ancient architects had built their subterranean city long the banks of the river Fiona had dubbed “Acheron” for a reason. While the acid flow could not sustain life or facilitate agriculture, there was one trait the stream shared with its freshwater counterparts on the surface; it was a natural means of easy transportation.

In legends of the underworld, a mythical ferryman — Charon, in both Greek and Roman mythology — bore the souls of the dead into the afterlife, guiding his boat along the river that separated the living from the dead.

Of course, both the city and the river existed firmly in the realm of the real, and the usefulness of the latter to the long forgotten citizens of the former was almost certainly banal in nature, but whatever their purpose, the ancients had left behind one of their boats.

Dodge and Hurricane made their way cautiously down to the craft, which appeared to be made completely of adamantine. It resembled a flat-bottomed canoe, about fifteen feet in length, and had been left on the bank just downstream of the bridge. Jutting out of its interior was a long pole of the same metal. A quick inspection revealed that the hull was sound, and given its composition, Dodge was confident that it would not spring a leak. Nevertheless, he wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea of venturing out onto the deadly river.

“I’ll do this,” Hurricane said. “Remember, I’m pretty good at breaking through walls.”

Dodge shook his head. “If those creatures show up, your guns are about the only chance we’ve got of holding them off.”

The big man simply nodded, and gripped the prow of the boat as Dodge climbed aboard. “Hang on,” he said, and when Dodge was situated, he gave it the craft a sturdy shove, launching it into the stream.

The river was almost completely hidden in a blanket of mist, and as the boat splashed into it, vapor spilled over the sides, filling the bilges. The gentle current immediately tugged at the boat, drawing it further away from the bridge, but Dodge extended the pole cautiously into the river finding the bottom only a few feet down, and pushed back. As he punted the craft under the arch of the bridge, he glanced up into the expectant eyes of the rest of the group. “See you back at the gates.”

The task of propelling the boat upstream was not particularly arduous, but after just a few minutes of exertion, Dodge felt lightheaded. The river course was the lowest place in the cavern and the concentration of vapors was greater here. The giddy sensation was not much different than the effect of a couple pints of beer, but he made a conscious effort to avoid abrupt movements that might cause him to lose his balance.

He will….

Dodge froze at the sound, tightening his grip on the punt. The current pulled the boat back, curling it around the pole, but Dodge remained statue still for a moment.

“Hearing things,” he muttered. “This mist is getting to me.”

He shoved the boat forward again.

He will destroy….

Dodge tried to ignore the whisper — the auditory hallucination — and continued methodically pushing the little craft through the fog.

He will betray you. Don’t trust him.

This time, the sound was no mere whisper, but a stern warning, delivered by a voice that was eerily familiar.

“That’s helpful,” Dodge said, under his breath. He knew exactly what the warning meant — a warning that surely originated from his own subconscious. Deep down, he knew that Von Heissel was plotting something terrible, and that he would betray Dodge as soon as he had what he wanted.

He will destroy everything.

I know that voice, Dodge thought. But from where?

He tried again to focus on the immediate goal, all too conscious of the fact that every moment spent breathing the poisonous air surely brought him closer to the point where hallucinations would give way to delirium and unconsciousness.

He will betray you.

The mist directly ahead of him coalesced into a face, a ghostly image repeating the warning, now amplified to a stentorian roar.

He will destroy everything.

The face dissolved as Dodge punted the boat through, but the brief glimpse was enough for him to recognize the phantom his subconscious had conjured to give voice to his misgivings about Barron. Though they had met in life only briefly and under extraordinary circumstances, he nevertheless felt an intimate connection to the man.

“Captain Falcon. I guess this really is the land of the dead.”

The mist poured into the boat, taking on form and texture, and suddenly Captain Zane Falcon was sitting before him. He looked exactly as Dodge described him in the stories; handsome, with a strong aquiline nose, wearing a slightly faded military uniform, with his signature hatchet tucked in his belt. His piercing eyes commanded Dodge’s attention as his lips began to move. Baron Von Heissel is evil beyond redemption. Do not trust him. He will betray you. He will destroy everything.

“I kind of got that the first time you said it.” Dodge shook his head. Stupid. Don’t waste your breath talking to hallucinations. Get to the gate.

Falcon’s specter evaporated as Dodge gave the boat another push, and the gate came into view. The fog was thinner here, and he could see the surface of the river, trickling through the hanging tooth-like stalactites of naturally refined adamantine that hung down into the acidic water. One more thrust brought the prow up against the metal spikes, and he took hold of them with one hand to hold the boat in place.

He scanned the bank for the rest of the group, but saw no hint of their presence. Even the glow of their flashlights was concealed by the pervasive mist. He pushed down the lump of concern that was rising in his throat, and bent himself to the task to prying apart the bars of the naturally occurring portcullis. He carefully laid the punting pole in the boat, and gripped the protrusions with both hands experimentally pushing and pulling to see if there was any give. There wasn’t; the stalactites didn’t budge.

“Dodge.”

This time, the voice caught him unaware. Startled, he jumped almost jumped back, and only the fact of his grip on the spikes saved him from completely upsetting the craft. He felt the boat rock beneath him; the gunwales dipped perilously close to the acid surface.

“Dodge,” the voice repeated again, not Falcon this time, but someone even closer to his heart.

“Just another hallucination,” Dodge whispered, but this time he wasn’t convinced. Even as he told himself to ignore the voice, his found himself twisting around to look back into the fog.

“Padre?”

Father Nathan Hobbs stepped out of the dense vapors, walking it seemed on the surface of the acid river. He looked exactly as he had the last time Dodge had seen him, but his face was twisted with worry. Or was it pain? “Dodge. The prisoner has returned.”

Dodge shook his head, but his attempts to dismiss the phantom were futile. The Padre kept advancing. “You must prepare. The prisoner has returned. He will destroy everything.”

“The prisoner? Why would you call him that?” This is a hallucination; why would my subconscious call him that?

The Padre stepped over the boat, passing so close that Dodge thought he felt the whisper touch of Hobbs’ cassock brushing against his leg. The priest turned to him, commanding Dodge’s full attention. “You must be ready. The time is near.”

“What…?”

The Padre then reached out and grasped the stalactites, just below Dodge’s hands. The metal grew warm and soft in Dodge’s grip, and with almost no effort at all, he spread the spikes apart, creating a gap wide enough for the boat to slip through.

“Thank—”

Hobbs was gone.

Of course he’s gone. He was never there at all. It was a hallucination.

But the stalactites had moved, and the way out was now open.

A light flashed in his face, and Hurricane’s voice reached out to him. “Dodge, are you there?”

“I’m here.” He picked up the pole and punted the boat closer to the bank where his companions were gathered. “It’s open. I think we can get through.”

He studied their expectant faces. Nora’s eyes gleamed with admiration. Newcombe looked hopeful, while Fiona’s face expressed faint disappointment at having to leave yet another ancient wonder behind. Vaughn and Hurricane wore stern, wary expressions; they knew from experience that the battle was not over until the troops were safe at home. Barron, with his rucksack full of adamantine ore, could not hide his eagerness.

Evil beyond redemption… He will destroy everything.

Dodge shook his head, trying to banish the whispers of doubt and paranoia. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

But the Padre’s warning continued to echo in his head. The prisoner has returned… You must be ready.

What did that mean?

Like the antithesis of mythical Charon, Dodge ferried living souls up the Acheron and out of the underworld. It required three trips. Hurricane went in the first trip — along with Nora just in case the pale creatures were still there, poised to attack. The caution was thankfully unwarranted. There was no sign of the fierce animals; they had even taken away their dead. Dodge left Hurley and Nora on the bank, and threaded the small boat back through the opening to pick up Barron and Newcombe. Fiona and General Vaughn went in the final trip.

It wasn’t until he abandoned the boat and climbed up the riverbank that Dodge got a good look at the aftermath of the earlier attack and the cave-in he had triggered. A head-high pile of gritty adamantine-rich sand was heaped against the gate, completely blocking the hole through which they had passed. Somewhere beneath it lay the wreckage of the wave device.

“A pity it’s gone,” Barron said, but that was his only comment.

As the nominal authority on the paths of the underworld, Fiona led the way, with Hurricane close at her side, guns drawn to meet any threat. The rest of the group followed behind them, two by two when possible, with Dodge bringing up the rear. They moved quickly, without complaint, especially when passing beneath shadowy recesses that they knew might harbor the cavern’s pale denizens.

They reached the junction with the first tunnel much sooner than Dodge expected and soon were threading their way through the cramped passage. Although the narrow cave hampered their progress, the knowledge that they were almost free of the underworld’s embrace filled them all with a sense of urgency, and seemingly in no time at all, a glimmer of natural light greeted their eyes. At the rear of the pack, Dodge felt a growing impatience as the group seemed to hit a bottleneck at the exit. Finally, his turn came and he pushed free into the open air.

His joy was short lived. As he blinked against the harsh glare of the sun, he saw that they were not alone. Four men, Sorensen and three others wearing the uniforms of Majestic’s crew, stood in a line facing the hillside. Even before his eyes could adjust to the brightness, he saw that they were armed with Thompson sub-machine guns, and that the weapons were trained on his friends.