Al awoke, rolled over, and slowly sat up. He took a deep breath to determine how he felt. His head felt better and with his flashlight confirmed that no bones were protruding from his legs, which was a good start. He then slowly got onto his knees and stood up.
Hips, legs, and feet check. Everything seemed to work. He glanced back at the walkway and took note of the pile of rocks he landed on. The walkway was roughly ten feet above it so he definitely had painful bruises to look forward to.
As his conscious mind returned, he looked around and realized that he was standing on the edge of a water channel that exited through a tunnel inside the cave wall. The water rapidly flowed past him and continued off into the distance beyond the reach of his light. He figured that the flowing water had to be coming from Jackson Lake, but then decided against it due to the sheer amount of water and speed at which it was moving. It would drain the entire lake in just a few days. He thought briefly about the underwater rock he had seen with the laser beams aimed at it. Water was definitely draining into the gap underneath it. Maybe it was another entrance into this river system. Oh well, he thought, let Ed figure it out.
Al re-filled his canteen and began following the channel. After a short distance, he reached another tunnel through another cave wall. The sides of the tunnel were so close to the edge of the channel that if he wanted to continue, he would have to jump in. He leaned over and aimed the light inside and noticed an opening a short distance ahead.
There was a slight rim, maybe two or three inches on the top edge of the channel, that gave him an idea. He could use his rock-climbing skills, climb in the water, and scale along using the edge as a grip. If it worked, he could make it to the other side and climb out. The flip side of that idea: It would most likely be a one-way trip. If he happened to slip, he’d be swept away with little chance of getting out. He glanced down at the rushing water and put his flashlight in his mouth. Before he talked himself out of it, he carefully twisted and lowered himself in. He adjusted his grip to the rapid-flowing current as it pulled on him and his pack. The drag was intense on his fingers but he was able to hold tight. If nothing else, the cold water felt amazingly good. Once in, he established his rhythm and began moving sideways several inches at a time.
Little by little, he made his way along, being careful not to slip or drop his flashlight. Before he knew it, he reached the other side and with one good yank, pulled himself out. He and his backpack were now soaking wet and he sat there for a minute to rest while looking around. Directly behind him was a stone wall, and on the other side, the same thing. He turned the flashlight ahead and something glittered back at him, so he quickly stood up. He took a few steps towards the source and was surprised to see a metallic bridge crossing the water channel. Or, more accurately, a metal girder type with a slight arch to it. It was modern-looking and definitely not something that would compare to that old castle back there. He took this as a good sign.
Al stepped onto it, shook a bit—testing it—and then walked to the center. Glancing down at the water, which was black as oil, he realized that this was the third or fourth water channel he had found. Up to this point Ed had not figured out what the water channels were for, or at least hadn’t said anything. Come to think of it, nothing they had found made any sense...yet.
From the center of the bridge he aimed his light around, illuminating both sides of the channel, and noticed some objects about thirty feet from the side he had just come from. He stepped back off the bridge and noticed something else odd. The wall looked burnt. He stepped up to it and ran his hand along the stone; a fine, black soot covered his palm.
He smelled it and it was almost odorless with just a faint burnt smell. He wiped his hand on his pants and did more exploring.
Lying at the base of the wall were several blackened objects scattered about. Contrasted with the black walls, they looked like shadows. As he got closer, Al noticed smeared footsteps on the ground. He focused his light directly at the ground observing several trails going in different directions. Many of them appeared to be barefoot, tracking through the black powdery soot. The tracks led to and from the area where the items were. As he approached, the first thing he noticed were several piles of coiled rope. One rope appeared attached to a spike crudely hammered into the wall with the other half leading off the edge into the water. It was moving slightly as the water pulled at it. He stepped over and pulled it in. He continued pulling until the end came out. It felt hard and slippery and once he inspected it saw why. It was black and burned. He tossed the rope down and glanced around. It was obvious by the black walls and burned rope that this place had been on fire once. He thought back at the bizarre destruction of the stone castle walls and now this old fire scene. He aimed his light ahead and wondered what could have caused this all the way down here?
He stood over the coils of burned rope and began separating each of them. No matter what situation he found himself in over the years, rope always came in handy. As he did, he saw something that appeared wrapped in cloth, also burned black. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a large binder or book wrapped in the remains of a flag. He pulled the edges up and unfolded the tattered book. Yes, the cloth was definitely a flag but the markings were burned beyond recognition. He then carefully fingered the leather cover and the interior pages, except for the singed outside edges, were in good shape. He pried them apart and saw penciled handwritten notes in German. He could not read German so he quickly turned the pages. As he did, he noticed several envelopes between the pages that had the typical German World War Two black eagle stamp on them. He lifted one up and analyzed it. “The German military was here?” He lowered it and glanced around, “Why would the Germans be here?”
He tossed the envelope, continued flipping the pages and paused at a rough hand-drawn map. It covered the entire left- and right-hand pages of the book. The map looked detailed and labeled in sections, but he did not recognize it. He closed the book, laid it aside, and stood up. He was more interested in what lay ahead and began walking in the direction of the flowing water. He followed the footprints for a moment and suddenly stopped. “Damn,” he said out loud. “Did I just turn away from a perfectly good map?”
He turned around on his toes in a skidding fashion and went back to it. He dropped to one knee, flipped the book open, and reviewed the hand-drawn map again. It struck him immediately what it might be. How could he be so stupid? “This is a map of this river,” he muttered. He traced with his finger the lines in pencil that he determined represented the river. He stopped at a spot that he recognized as the tunnel he swam through. He followed it back to the next tunnel he also recognized where he got his water. Next to the tunnel, on the left, was a drawing that had to be the castle. “So these German explorers found it,” he said, “so what else is down here?” As he traced back through several spots that looked like tunnels, he picked up where it stopped on the next page and ended at an X.
Could that be the entrance?
He turned the map in different angles attempting to decipher it. It reminded him of old Taliban maps he would find in the mountains of Afghanistan during the war. So he pondered the question; Did they find a way down here or did they simply discover a hidden river into this mountain range and decided to explore it? He could not exactly tell from the map although a squiggly line led to a large circle that could represent Jackson Lake. He stood up, stepped to the river’s edge, and aimed his light in the water. The river flowed fast and powerfully. Even with a powerboat there was no way anyone could go against the flow—it was simply too strong. He thought about how salmon would do it but, then again, he wasn’t a fish. Solves that problem, he thought, so his only option was to go forward.
Al re-examined the map to see what they discovered ahead before the fire got them, if that is what happened. With his finger on the map, he followed the river straight, past his position. It continued for a short distance, then entered a square within a series of concentric squares. The image of the squares reminded him of the inverted pyramids he found in Iraq and Lebanon. That would be unusual, but he didn’t discount it as a possibility. Nothing surprised him anymore. He looked closely at the writing next to the squares. It was in English, so he read it aloud,
Of the rivers of Dante’s inferno.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He tossed the book down, careful to leave the page open to the map, and began walking along the river. The map indicated something was ahead, so he was just going to have to find out for himself. Moving his light slowly back and forth, he continued following the footprints. They ran along the edge, clearly tracking in the black soot. The pads and toes of the feet were clear, making some prints almost perfect. After a short distance, he could hear the water splashing as if it was hitting something solid. He stopped and carefully aimed his light around. The absolute last thing he needed right now was to step off the edge accidentally into the water. He continued walking, using the stone wall to his right to guide him along. After several steps, it ended and he got a view of where the sound was coming from. The river flowed into a large, square pool. With his light, he could partially see through the water to a step that ran below the top edge of the square. He looked a little closer and was able to make out another step below that.
It was another inverted step pyramid. It was much smaller, but still a pyramid, except this one was filled up with water. He stepped to the side and analyzed the scene a bit more. The water seemed to evenly flow into the pyramid, swirl around a bit, and then continue on. The other side remained beyond the reach of the light, so wherever the water flowed was a mystery because the map didn’t show beyond the square pool.
Al made a right turn and walked along the edge until he reached the next corner and turned left. He now traveled along the right side of the square and as he did, his light reflected off the water, revealing odd reflections like flowing shadows. He aimed his light side to side looking to see where the black shadows were coming from, but didn’t see anything and figured they were just coming from the water turbulence.
Overall, with the black walls, he had the eerie feeling of being on the inside of a fireplace and that someone was watching him. As he continued onto the next corner, he still realized the flowing water could not cause black shapes. He kept jerking his light at the shadows, because his mind kept registering something was there. He walked along the edge and stepped into the water onto the first step. He leaned in closely and looked inside the water to see if anything was in there. Nothing but water, so he raised the light up. As he did, the shadows reflected from the water and danced along the black stone wall.
Where are those shadows coming from? Am I beginning to hallucinate?
He stopped and aimed his light directly at the wall again and it was black and smooth. He then stepped back onto the top edge and faced the water. He raised his light up at the ceiling, or at least what he thought was the ceiling. It took a second or two for his eyes to register what was reflecting above him, but when they did, an electric shock went through him, and his reflexes forced him down as if he was ducking a deadly barrage of bullets.
“Holy shit,” he screamed out. Screaming, terrified, black faces were looking at him. As his eyes and mind continued to focus and register what was above him, he became frightened for the first time since this expedition began. “No way,” he said, as he aimed his light back and forth across the ceiling above.
They were so close he could almost touch them. They looked like the suspended bodies of demons falling out of the ceiling. They were reaching down and screaming as they fell in terror.
He shot his light back and forth at hundreds of demonic torsos. All burnt black with blackened red eyes. As his initial shock subsided, he realized that it had been a long time since he had been frightened like that, and his emotional well-being was not prepared. He found himself shaking.
“What in the hell is this place?” he said, moving his light back down. The shaking turned to trembling so he shut off his light and stood there in the dark, his fists clenched tightly to try to steady his nerves. He cleared his mind of the demon faces and focused on the sounds around him. All he could hear was rushing, splashing water that soothed him.
He had seen his share of mangled, bloodied bodies torn to pieces over the years, but he had never in his life seen such a frightening image as what was looming above him.
It took several minutes, but the nervous shaking subsided and he unclenched his fists. Clicking his light back on, he continued walking along the first step to the next corner. As he did, he resisted the urge to look up and focused on what was ahead. He was now on the far side of the square pool and could see where the rushing water flowed. As he reached the center, there appeared to be a rectangular hole cut into the steps allowing the water to continue flowing. The channel looked to be one-half the width of the river. As he approached the channel, he noticed two metal spikes hammered into the stone near the edge. He reached the corner and carefully stretched his head and light around to see where the water headed. He was able to see where the tunnel ended but not much else, so he pulled his head back.
He made his way back to the German map book and looked at it again to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He steadied the light on the map and turned the page. It showed the river in fact did continue beyond the pyramid into another series of channels. The author had drawn circles and shapes, indicating something lay ahead. If the proportions on the map were correct, then he could proceed and possibly find a way out.
He closed the book, grabbed the two bundles of rope, and headed back to the channel.
Using the spikes as an anchor, he tied the ropes down. He figured that is what they were for in the first place, so why not. As he did, he thought about the other burnt cut-off rope and wondered what happened. What were the German dudes doing here in the first place? Were they looking for something in particular, or just screwing around? Something bad must have happened or they would have come back to grab their book. Fortunately for him, they left it—or forgot it. Either way he was moving on.
He steadied his nerves, tied the ropes together, and tossed it in the water. The current quickly took it away. Next, he gripped the rope and lowered himself into the water. There was not an edge to grab onto this time so his only support was the rope. Once he adjusted to the water current splashing onto him and his pack, he slowly began moving through the channel.
Inch by inch he moved as the rushing water splashed up and over him. As he moved, he wondered again what the Germans were doing here, and when? Were the German explorers searching for the castle, the phoenix statue, nuclear bombs, or girls?
It had to be girls! More importantly, what the hell were those demons doing here? Even the thought of those screaming black faces unnerved him. A recurring thought kept gnawing at him: Why am I even here?