“I’ll take the fifth on that question, if it’s all the same to you.”
O’Donnell laughed. “Fair enough.”
“You researched anything about that door in the cavern yet?” Aston asked.
Dig sat up, put the book down on his knee. “Not really. I thought I might let my lunch go down first, then hit the books. It’s a weird thing, though, don’t you think?”
“It is.” Aston was reluctant to offer too much. He wondered how much Dig might know.
Dig pursed his lips for a moment, then, “You saw one before.”
“Who told you that?”
“Sol Griffin. He only mentioned it in passing, but I’ve seen Slater’s film about Kaarme, so I know all the broad details. It’s not a hoax, is it? Her film, I mean.”
Aston sighed. “No, it’s not. It’s all real, but no one seems to want to accept that.”
“People are experts at refusing to accept things that challenge their sure knowledge of the world. Then there are others who will believe just about anything, no matter how ludicrous.”
“And where on that scale do you fall?”
Dig grinned. “Maybe somewhere in the middle.”
Aston looked down at the book on O’Donnell’s lap. H. P. Lovecraft’s short novel, At The Mountains of Madness. “Is that the best book to read given where we are?” he asked.
Dig barked a short laugh. “Can’t think of anything better!”
Aston frowned. “If I remember correctly, it’s the story of an Antarctic expedition that goes horribly wrong when they discover mysterious ruins and inexplicable creatures in a huge range of mountains?”
Dig nodded. “Pretty much. The whole yarn is related by a geologist, William Dyer, who’s a professor at Miskatonic University in Arkham. He’s telling the story in the hope that it will prevent anyone else from going back there.”
“And yet here we are,” Aston said.
“Yes. And we found an inexplicable door.”
“I think the door was put in there by the expedition back near the turn of the twentieth century,” Aston said. He was almost certain that he in fact did not believe that, but he wanted to test the theory on O’Donnell.
“No,” Dig said. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“Why so sure?”
“The rock. It’s not mined from those mountains. Or at least, not nearby. Why and how would those explorers have mined rock from so far away and taken it there in these conditions?” He gestured out the window at the seemingly endless snow. “I’d postulate these weren’t the conditions when that door was built. Perhaps all of Antarctica was more temperate then, yes? And why would that expedition construct such an elaborate door anyway? If they wanted to shore up the entrance to that passageway, they would have used the nearby rock and made a much more utilitarian, less aesthetic, framework. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” Aston said honestly. “It’s exactly what I thought, to be honest.” His eyes fell to Dig’s book again.
Dig tapped the cover with one forefinger. “This is all incredibly fanciful, of course. In the story, Professor Dyer and a graduate student named Danforth fly over the mountains and see a vast abandoned stone-city, one that is alien to any human architecture. We know from Google Earth that doesn’t exist.”
“But doesn’t the bulk of the story happen in subterranean tunnels and caves?” Aston asked. “It was years ago that I read this, but I remember giant blind penguins and formless, multi-eyed blobs.”
“Shoggoths,” Dig said.
“That’s right. We wouldn’t see those from satellite imagery.”
O’Donnell laughed. “Nor the intricate hieroglyphics the characters found, telling the story of interstellar Elder Gods and their fighting. But let’s assume that’s as fanciful as the giant alien city, shall we?”
Aston paused, lost in thought.
“Thinking about that door again?” Dig asked.
Aston nodded. “You have to wonder just how fanciful that stuff is,” he said, gesturing to the Lovecraft book.
“Well, there are a number of weird conspiracy theories about Antarctica, aside from this rather far-fetched story. At The Mountains of Madness was written in the 1930s, after all. But there are a number of suggestions that there could be living beings of some description, even ancient aliens, living beneath the Antarctic.”
“You think that’s likely?”
Dig shrugged. “Do you?”
“I’m not sure what to think. Recent experience has taught me that I know next to nothing in the grand scheme of things.”
“Spoken like a true scientist!” Dig said.
“But it is interesting, don’t you think,” Aston said. “You being here.”
“Is it?”
“Well, sure. An archeologist in the most uninhabited place on Earth.”
Dig raised his hands, palms up. “Uninhabited now. Perhaps it was inhabited once before. I guess maybe they brought me along just in case we do encounter a vast alien city under the ice.” He laughed, gesturing with the tatty paperback, one eyebrow raised.
Aston laughed too, but couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the strange door so far beneath their feet.
8
Aaron Steele, privately contracted security guard, leaned against the cool stone of the strange door, metallic blue fidget spinner whirring almost silently on the tip of his finger. Almost silent, but the huge empty cavern was so quiet he could have heard a mouse fart. But for the scattered and muffled drips of falling water and the smooth bearings of his spinner, the space was devoid of all sound. He didn’t understand why the company wouldn’t let him bring ear buds down, listen to music. But they wouldn’t even allow him to bring his phone. He could play tunes, tap away at a handful of cool mobile games he had downloaded, even read an ebook. Anything would be better than the mind-numbing boredom of standing around all day. But company policy was company policy, and the pay was pretty great. It was easy money in that respect, though he looked forward to eventually returning to civilization. And his fiancée. He missed those pleasures far more than he missed his phone.
Aaron glanced at his watch, sighed. Another hour until shift change. Almost time to go back topside. Downtime would be good. Hopefully no one would be hogging the PS4 up there.
Something scraped behind him. Frowning, he turned to look at the closed door. He must have imagined it. Or maybe it was his own utility belt rubbing against the stone as he moved. But he didn’t remember moving. The sound came again, quiet, followed by a rapid series of taps, almost a ticking, beyond the door.
Had some of those geeks been left down there from earlier? No, that was ridiculous. He’d have noticed, or at the least he would have been told. Maybe one of the other security crew had been posted inside. He shook his head. He would know that too if it were the case, and the three armed goons with the scientists had all come back too. You couldn’t miss those guys.
He stilled the fidget spinner, gripped it lightly between thumb and forefinger, and turned to face the door, listening hard. He heard no more noise, save for the softly echoing drips for so long he had just about given up and decided he was imagining things when it came again.
scraaaape-tic-tic-tic
Then once more after only a couple of seconds. Something was definitely moving around back there. Suddenly Aaron wished for boredom and long, empty shifts on his own. He would have to investigate. It was his job, after all. Besides, it might turn out to be the only useful thing he’d done since he got here. But he didn’t like it.
He opened the door, flicked on the bright LED light he wore on a band about his forehead, and played the white beam around the walls of the dark tunnel beyond. Nothing but smooth, slick, slightly damp stone. He knew another cavern lay beyond the long passage, but he hadn’t been there. He just needed to watch the elevator and the door, he was told. He looked into the dark, saw only the faint glow of a tiny patch of the of the strangely luminescent fungus and his light making stark shadows. He moved and his headlight cut through the shadows like a sword blade.