“George, we’ve told you about getting too close to the patients here.” It was Doctor Henderson, Chief Resident at Tahquamenon’s Mental Institute. He was a mousey little man, efficient and personable and most of the staff liked him, George Reston included.
“Is someone complaining?” George asked back. George on the other hand was tall and in good shape. His janitorial duties kept him trim. Much younger he respected Cliff Henderson and liked his easy manner.
“No, it’s Jacob Pean.”
“I like Jake. He’s very respectful. Got a lot of stories to tell also. We get along fine.”
“I know that, George. Jacob has passed away early last week. You were on vacation so we didn’t want to bother you with the news at home. He had a very powerful fit which he never recovered from.”
“Oh!” He entered the administrator’s office and slumped down into a cushioned chair. “I liked Jake,” he repeated emptily.
“George, I see this happen to you time and again. You get to caring for someone and when they pass away you’re devastated.” Henderson was being sympathetic. “You’re an educated man. Why do you work here anyway? Didn’t you attend university for business or something?”
“Yeah, I have a Masters in business administration management.”
“Why didn’t you stay in that line?”
“I didn’t like being responsible for others. I didn’t like management. This job pays my bills and gives me time to myself. I get to visit with all these interesting people, hear their stories and histories. I find the work captivating.”
Henderson was diverting Reston’s mind from the loss. He had to bring it back though and that made the doctor feel bad.
“George, even though taken with fits now and then and uncontrollable shakes, Jacob showed remarkable traits of sanity. He liked you very much too. You made a very good impression on him. He mentioned you in his will and left you something. It is a manuscript.” The doctor slid a large tin box across the desk to the janitor. There was a key in the lock but by the dust and rust it appeared not to have been opened for quite some time.
“This box has been in the back of Pean’s closet ever since he signed himself into this institution. It was there when I first started here. He would pull it out and fit the key into the lock every now and then but he never opened it. Eventually he left it to sit back there as if he had overcome his compulsion to worry over it. No one has seen the contents yet his will states there is a manuscript within it.”
George was surprised. He reached out tentatively and grabbed the box with both hands. He slid it from the desk into his lap. It was a heavy box and looked to be insulated. Whatever was inside would have weathered the years in fair condition.
“That’s all, George. Your shift was almost over so I thought to tell you of this now. You can leave early if you want to. I know how much you liked old Jacob Pean.”
“Thank you, Dr. Henderson,” George said and rose to leave. “Funeral?”
“We laid him to rest last Wednesday. I can tell you, though I’d really be interested to see what is in that box. I won’t deny it,” Cliff Henderson admitted.
“Let me see first,” George said as he stopped at the door. “If it amounts to anything I will let you be the next to read it.”
“Fair enough,” the doctor replied and the janitor was out of his office.
The radio in the lounge was the local station out of Marquette and some politician from down state who had traveled three days to get there was at the station telling of the area’s growing economy. Soon work on the bridge between the two peninsulas would be underway. He was forecasting a century of growth and prosperity for the U. P. as new veins of copper were being discovered daily in the Porcupine Mountains, one of which a very beautiful alloy that made the metal brittle as glass but scientists felt they could work with it. Once the five mile suspension bridge, the longest in the world, was open getting appropriate equipment to harvest these resources would not depend on the mercurial moods of the lakes and the shipping conditions.
George only paid half attention as he changed out of his coveralls and gathered his lunch box and Pean’s tin with the manuscript. Coat and gloves in place he headed out into the chill of the winter’s evening and hurried to his truck. He unplugged the block heater and tossed the power cord up onto the sidewalk out of the snow. Key in the ignition he hit the starter on the floor with his boot and the engine turned over sluggishly. Once, twice and then it caught and began to run. He feathered the choke to make sure it wouldn’t stall, then sat impatiently while the engine heated up. It would be nice to park in the heated garage like the doctor staff but being housekeeping he only ranked a parking slot next to the back entrance.
Finally heat began to kick out of the defrosters and the windows began to clear. He put the vehicle in gear and as the tires crunched loudly against the packed snow he eased out of the parking lot and headed home and as the roads were relatively clear do to the temperature he made it there with hardly any other traffic to worry about.
He rushed to get inside, promising to plug in the block heater before going to bed. The dogs and cats were there to greet him as usual. Three dogs and four cats kept him and each other company. They all got along except for the occasional squabble between the cats. They were excited to see him and took all of ten minutes to get their share of attention. That chore done he looked to his supper of grilled liver and onions with a tall mug of home brewed beer. Satisfied that his stomach could fit no more he finally moved to his easy chair and the table next to it where he had placed Jacob Pean’s manuscript.
He held the battered tin reverently for several seconds before even looking at the key. It rested in the lock. It was loose and he pulled it out to examine it. It was a simple key, one that came with the box itself. He refitted it into the slot and turned it gently. Surprisingly it turned without a grind or sound. The release clicked loose and the lid was ready to open. He lifted it and tilted it back on its hinge to look inside. A sheaf of papers yellowed and aged lay within and on top of them was the strange ring George remembered Jacob wearing religiously. He could picture the old man even now sitting by the window, fingers subconsciously rubbing at the metal of the ring. George lifted it and slid it on his index finger. It fit perfectly. It was a curious metal he was hard to place. Copper perhaps or some strange alloy of it? He turned his attention to the pages within. In a spidery thin handwriting Jacob Pean had scribed a history. Intrigued George pulled out the first page and read.
It is with great reluctance that I let my mind travel back through the years to that terrifying episode under the shores of Lake Superior on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I am ever tempted to let my mind pretend that the whole thing never happened, that the incident was a product of a fevered breakdown and now I fear more and more a relapse of that breakdown incapacitating my mind so that I will never do that which I ought. I get a fit of shakes like an ague at times when the memories overwhelm me.
It is a matter of record that the surveying trip undertaken by my two comrades and myself was not successful. The files are kept at the Chase Copper Company of Chicago, Illinois but I fear much has been edited due to my nervous state when the report was made. I fear the authorities doubt my tale and still suspect me of wrong doings but the fact remains that they could find no evidence against me or incriminating testimony as to the whereabouts of my friends. All interrogations I had gone through were almost as upsetting as the ordeal itself. It is now, after learning of other expeditions to the same area that I fear other copper and lumber enterprises may uncover more of what we had encountered there and I fear the outcome of such a meeting. It is this fear that prompts me now to break my long silence of fifteen years to try and warn those out there who may be placing their lives in danger with their endeavors without even realizing it.
I am not a great man of words but perhaps the vehemence and conviction of my tale will be enough to dissuade further foolish ventures involving those inaccessible and mysterious, those time haunted areas of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula into which I was unfortunate enough to stumble into. I only pray that my sanity prevails enough for me to get this to proper hands as this information is vital to the development of the Upper Peninsula.
It was an idyllic summer, warm, almost balmy. Towards the end of July we arrived in the area. We almost regretted carrying along the heavy coats and blankets in our packs but we had heard about the nights in the U. P. and thought it better to be prepared. This was the fourteenth day of our excursion, after our arrival in Escanaba by ferry, where we had rested two day before outfitting ourselves and embarking.
The previous night we had spent in a small town nestled deep in the valleys and ravines that scour the Porcupine Mountains. It was near this town where the first copper load was discovered here in Michigan. The people there were sullen and not too trusting or outgoing. It was as if they shared some fear or distrust of outsiders and strangers. Perhaps they resented our presence. If we were successful at our endeavors their lives would be changed forever. The majority of the citizens made their living logging. We didn’t pause long enough in their company for me to find out what their reticence towards us stemmed from, but it nagged at me and festered in the back of my mind. The three of us were likable fellows.
We three were all surveyors, hardy individuals who were used to doing without the comforts of civilized environs. This came in handy as we traveled for the planking along their roads was intermittent at best and more than once we were force to get out and push our transportation along their tracks and trails. Our narrow tires had a tendency to cut deep into the clay that covered the majority of their byways.
Early this morning after leaving the village a few hours behind we had to abandon our sedan. The paths which we traveled were now not much more than ruts cut through the forest by lumberjacks and our vehicle would certainly bog down and bottom out. We pulled off the trail onto a flat bit of bare rock and loaded our gear for foot travel.
Our assignment from the Chase Copper Company was to find as of yet unexploited veins and claim them for the home office. Leaving our car behind we followed the clues that were leading us further and further into the unexplored depths of the Porcupine Mountains. It had come to a point where we were wasting too much time trying to get the vehicle through the clutching soil and we would make better time on foot. The signs we were following led us on a course that roughly paralleled the southern shore of Lake Superior. It traveled through the rocky and mountainous terrain.
We were acting on advice more feely given by the local Ojibwa and Chippewa than that of any lumberjack. The lumber men we had found to be resentful if not outright hostile towards our employment. Apparently there was a lot of hostility between our two professions.
We three of the Chase Copper Company were all out of Chicago Illinois or the surrounding areas. There was Jan Jarlssen, a big sturdy Swede. His family had come from the “old country” while he was but a boy and he still retained a heavy accent. Jonathan McCleary was an Irish second generation American. Both these men were broad shouldered and thick arms. I was no slouch of a man myself. I stood shorter than these two, probably five foot eleven back then but I had heft to my arms and strength to my shoulders. Our lives kept us fit and trim but standing between the two of them I always felt like I was in a depression or hole, they towered above me so.
When he had left our car we strapped everything on our back that we thought we might have a need of. We had no idea how long we might be away from our sedan so in our packs were the warm coats and blankets, cooking utensils, provisions, and of course the tools necessary in our trade. The summer sun beat warmly upon us as we made our way from one rocky ravine to the next. Sometimes we were forced to use rope and grappling hook to scale or descend the terrain. We had stripped to the waist as soon as these exertions began and were by now perspiring freely. On his arms and shoulders Jan still bore the bruises of his encounter with an irritable lumberman two nights prior. Jan upheld the profession of surveyor with pride and the lumberjack was forced to back down from his argument as his buddies carried his unconscious form from the tavern. I like to think that it was the attitude and clean living that surveyors hold in contrast to the way of life the lumberjacks embrace that led to Jan’s victory.
It was about midday when our efforts brought us to the top of a small plateau. It resembled not in small part a mesa of the southwest. The serene blue of the Lake Superior waters was visible not too far distant and we could see the curve of the earth on its distant horizon. All evidence near at hand suggested that close to this summit lay a large deposit of copper. It was just waiting to be discovered. Excitement quickened our blood and our spirits rose. Yet, as we searched the table top surface we began to become aware of some disturbing features to this plateau.
Up the sides of this hillock ran lines that we had at first taken to be caused by the natural weathering of the stones. But looking down on them over the sides we discovered them to be carvings, ancient carvings. Artificial as they were they seemed incomplete. They were of large bestial faces or muzzles but as they ascended the side of the hill it appeared as if they had been sliced off half of the way up as if in shearing the tops off their images this level feature had been created. Deep groves and scraping marred the surface which gave further evidence that the original summit had been painstakingly removed for some purpose.
The area left was roughly eighty feet in circumference and this could only give us a guess as to what height the original rock face had climbed. That the carved images predated the habitation of the Chippewa and Ojibwa was evinced by the fire pits that had been hollowed out in near symmetry next to a deep cleft toward the center of the leveled area.
In the charred leavings could be found napped arrowheads, decaying hides and animal carcasses abandoned ages ago. They had succumbed to the weather and were barely discernable from the ashes. There were three such fire pits on the eastern side of the cleft and they formed an almost perfect isosceles triangle. On the west side were two more. They followed a line that ran to true north as was attested to by our compass. McCleary and I assumed them to be normal fire pits which were used for cooking but Jarlssen voiced some vague doubts of which he could not be certain. Something, he said, was gnawing at his memory in the layout of these pits. Their positions were too precise for mere food preparation by the Indians and the height was near impossible to scale without proper climbing equipment. He insisted that the pits had to have been for some other purposes.
Using the chemicals in our tool cache we did some mineral testing of the area surrounding the cleft and were please to discern that a rich copper vein possibly accessible through the cleft to reaches below was highly favorable. We began to set up the paraphernalia that would allow a descent. A jubilant fervor seemed to color McCleary’s and my efforts but there was a hint of reservation from our Swedish friend. It was late afternoon by the time we had our derrick constructed over the crevice so we decided to postpone a full journey below ground until the following day. Instead Jarlssen would make a cursory foray into the cleft while we waited above.
We sent Jarlssen down first because as a lad he had done a considerable amount of spelunking during visits to Europe. He had thought of making a career as a geologist or volcanologist before he turned to surveying. He did study quite extensively in that area, though, and liked to keep up on this school of thought. He wasn’t certain what might have caused this opening in the stone and the subsequent cavern below. His normal almost boyish enthusiasm for entering a new cavern or cave seemed to be replaced with a professional detachment now but he lowered himself down by the derrick and we followed his light as he descended. It disappeared as it followed a course he found below and was gone for a while as he explored the cavern.
Upon his return he told us that the break in the stone sunk down for about a hundred feet before leveling off. Here a cave system began. He was now even more uncertain what could have caused this opening in the stone and the wormings he found below.
“I’ve never seen the like,” he told us later as we sat around a small fire, eating a supper of tinned meats. “Not in any of my studies or journeys have I seen this!” His heavy accent was tinged with a sound of confusion. “It is almost as if whoever chopped off the top of this mount did so to get to the opening we see now. As if they knew the cleft was already here.”
“This cleft looks to be natural, though,” McCleary interjected.
“Ya, ya, but the caves below, they look almost like they were carved by hand, they do. Carved, perhaps, by the giant hand of God and not the shifting plates and geological pressures.”
“Jacob?” he asked me as he gave a questioning look but I could only shrug my shoulders.
“Guess we’ll all see tomorrow.” I finally said.
We set up out camping gear that night just a short distance from the opening. The moon was full and the evening was warm but silent. As the northern lights crackled and moved in the heavens with the fluid grace of ballet no frogs or birds called into the still air. Even the persistent and annoying mosquitoes left us alone. Yet for as still and quiet and warm as the night had been each of us professed the next day that we all had trouble finding sleep. Once there disturbed and disquieting dreams and images and shapes paraded before the mind’s eye and kept us from having a restful night.
McCleary brushed it off with his typical Irish enthusiasm and attributed it to our excitement over what may yet be found beneath the Porcupine Mountains. Jarlssen was even more troubled and grew quiet and reluctant to speak this morning. It gave me the impression that he had fallen under the same attitude as had the superstitious villagers we had met at the last village.
That morning we enjoyed a hearty breakfast, during the course of which McCleary and I spent in animated conversation about the possibilities of this day’s excursion. We were as school boys waiting on the adventure that waited below. The boyish grin was conspicuously absent from our companion however. His appetite was not diminished though and I ascribed his current state of mind to the confusion he must have felt upon finding something he had never experienced before in his cave climbing youth.
Jarlssen had said that it was much cooler at the bottom of the crevasse so once again we were forced to load our packs with warm weather gear and with their constricting bulk upon our backs we lowered ourselves by rope and derrick down into the dark hole that waited below.
The Swede had understated exactly how much cooler it was on the floor below. Perhaps since he spent a good deal of time in more northern climes than we were accustom to he hadn’t felt it as keenly. McCleary and I were quick to don our coats once we reached the floor of the cave system. Not much of the morning sun found its way down to the depths where we were. Also was forced upon the use of our electric torches for illumination. Their batteries were fresh and we carried a number of spares should we need them. We were none too worried about our lighting needs.
The cave system through not of enormous vaulting seemed extensive. The height of them was enough to allow a tall man to walk upright but didn’t rise much higher than that. The ceiling, walls, and floor were all more or less smooth indicating there had been an action that had polished them slightly. No stalagmites or stalactites were in evidence so the caves appeared to be sealed from any ground water seepage. They ran northerly, the south wall the end of the crevice running almost vertical upward to where we had entered. As we made our way forward I was struck by Jarlssen’s remark of the day before about the giant hand cleaving in two this adamant rock that closed us in. There seemed to be no breaks or fissures in the walls around us to mar their surface. The walls were smooth and shiny but did not seem wet or slick with moisture. I reached out and ran a finger along them and they were like volcanic slag. Yet it was quite dry in the caves so we found our footing to be quite secure.
The walls themselves were a dark, almost a black onyx and they put me in mind of basalt. Yet only Jan could probably tell what their mineral content might have been and he was reluctant to speak. His quiet reticence had even increased after breakfast until now it seemed an obstinate silence.
After we traversed about forty yards the cave took a decidedly downward slant. The decline was about twenty five degrees. It looked to remain constant so we continued on. The grade neither rose nor fell and this left the impression that this too had been sculpted into the living stone. It was also borne upon me that McCleary and I had lost a bit of our enthusiastic garrulousness as this impression played upon our minds.
Jarlssen passed his light all around as we made our descending way forward. The illumination from McCleary lamp and mine we cast downward as we watched our footing. Thus it was the Swede who first noticed the carvings on the walls. They were crude, scrapings more than carvings actually.
“John, Jacob!” he said excitedly. “Look, someone has scratched symbols into the walls!” He played his fingers over the surface as a man might strum the keys of a piano or the strings of a harp. Then he said, “Look! Here! These carvings probably date to the same time as those on the mountains side. Perhaps now we can see what may have been destroyed when the top was leveled off.”
We paused and played the wane lights upon the walls. The symbols were astounding. Some were taller and any of us, some were barely the size of a thumbnail. Some were the intricate weave that brought to mind the lace interweave of Celtic art, scored with deliberate intelligent hands. Some were crude, almost brutish in their execution, an obscene contract to the fine detail next to them. Although alien and incomprehensible the cruder symbols seemed to be trying to tell a story but in a simpler hand as if the author tried to copy those more intricate marks left before but had not the intellect to grasp their construction. We asked Jan if he had ever seen their like before. He replied that he had never come across their like. “They seem serpentine!” he said, his voice trailing off.
By now the air in the cave had grown considerably cooler and we could see just barely the silver plume of air as we breathed and spoke yet we did not stop nor consider going back. We had still to find even the smallest trace of copper that our tests above said should be in abundance here but our curiosity had been piqued in other ways and the thought of returning above ground did not enter our minds.
We had totally lost track of time but for the several minutes we had stopped to admire and ponder the carvings, had been constantly moving. Glancing at our watches we realized that we had been going on nonstop for the better part of an hour and a half. Our travel had always been in a straight line almost due north. By our reckoning we figured that by now we were approximately a mile north of the mouth of the crevice and as such were approaching the shore of the great lake. At this depth, however, we were probably well beneath the floor of the body of water.
Barley fifty feet further we discerned a lightening of the stygian gloom that surrounded us. It was barely noticeable at first but gradually we became aware of it. We all looked at each other with surprised glances. What could this be attributed to? McCleary extinguished his light to see just how much illumination was coming in and from where. Jarlssen and I followed suit and found that the glow was strong enough to save the batteries in our torches.
A short stretch in the distance we could discern a dark shape that formed a ring around the wall of the cave. As we approached it took on a jagged, uneven appearance. In the brightening illumination, as our eyes grew accustomed we could also see debris lying on the floor in chunks of varying sizes. We were presently standing before what had once been a wall at some point in the past. It formed a barrier between the cleft behind us and whatever lay ahead.
Beyond the now shattered wall was a large fissure that ran along the eastern wall of the tunnel roughly paralleling the floor. It continued on until it was lost in the dim distance. The destructive force that destroyed the barrier was probably the same force that caused the fissure leading to this network of caves. I stooped to examine the debris that littered the floor. It appeared at first to be more volcanic slag, shiny and brittle until I touched it. It was metal, smooth and polished. McCleary studied the barrier itself while Jarlssen looked about with an almost dazed or confused expression on his face. McCleary’s grunt of surprise mirrored my own findings. I withdrew a vial from my pack and poured a drop of its contents on a fragment of the metal. This simple test concurred with what the Irishman obviously discovered. The metal that had formed the barrier was a copper of an almost pure form. There was some alloy or flux to the metal that I could not identify with the supplies I had at hand. Yet I was sure I would be able to isolate it once I got back to a more complete laboratory. Whatever the metal was, it bonded with the copper and made it as brittle as glass. The pieces that lay on the tunnel floor were shards like those of a broken, thick paned window or mirror. We gathered several shards apiece and deposited them within our packs. Such an anomalous find as this needed to be brought back and studied further.
Beyond the remains of the barrier the feeble green glow increased dramatically. It was brighter than twilight. It reminded me of the verdant illumination found beneath a high canopy of jungle giants. Sun was reaching us but filtered though some medium I couldn’t guess at just yet. A few steps further and we found the source of the glow. More accurately I should say we found the sources. Nestled in the ceiling of the tunnel spaced several yards apart were set apertures, openings that had an almost organic appearance about them. The openings led upward to what looked from below like blisters that protruded outward into the waters of Lake Superior.
As I was the smallest of us three my two comrades lifted me up so that I could pass through the aperture to the area above. Gaining entry was no problem as the inner surface was as dry as the tunnel and had hand holds which I utilized to my advantage. The existence of this convenience was lost on me at first. The opening led into what resembled a domed affair hollowed out into the stone above but even more astonishing than the hand holds was the enclosure’s roof. It was a large transparent shield that looked out onto the floor of the great lake above. Through the thick substance the sunlight that filtered through the water was the origin of the greenish glow below in the caverns. There were large bench-like constructs that lined the walls but these were of a scale a little larger than human dimensions.
I know not how long I sat spell bound by the vista that was before me. The dark indistinct forms of large fish swam lazily before me. Fronds and water grasses waved in the water’s currents. What flights of fancy that played through my mind I can only now dimly recall as I sat there marveling at the vista before me. A call from below brought me out of my reverie.
“Jake?” McCleary sounded impatient. “How about lowering a rope?”
I did as he bid, securing it to one of the benches and presently was joined by the other two. They sat next to me and stared out the dome. They were as awestruck as I was. This structure reminded me of the crystal of a pocket watch. We were in a concave area on the floor of the lake and as such we could discern other such blisters ahead along the line that the tunnel followed.
“Surely this points to a past civilization that was far in advance of the natives of this area.” I exclaimed to my fellow surveyors. “This is far beyond what the German Navy is even capable of right now. Even with their skilled craftsmen.” The two could not refute my claim and they simply nodded in bewildered agreement.
The three of us were scientific, indeed adventurous enough to realize that a find like this would rock the community of scholars around the globe. We decided to take extensive notes and to make sketches. We regretted not having enough foresight to carry along any photographic equipment.
Through the murky twilight of the waters we could see that ahead about a hundred yards was an enormous blister. Jarlssen thought it might have been for a large gathering of whatever had scooped out these pods, as we were want to call them, or perhaps it was a meeting place, a conference room or arena. We decided to descend back to the tunnel and make our way forward. I was especially curious to see the view from this large pod.
They looked to be of alien origin. They stood upright like man but there the resemblance ended. They were very insectile looking. The arms, legs, torsos seemed to be covered by chitinous armor yet there were areas that were exposed and seemed to show the musculature beneath. The arms ended in paws or claws of deadly efficiency. Its feet were just as dangerous looking, ending in massive talons. A large scorpion-like tail hung limp from behind the creature’s pelvis and it was tipped by a barb or stinger that was as frightening as the rest of the statue. Most startling of all however was the appearance of the creature’s head. It resembled more the body of a squid than anything insect in origin. Tentacles covered the area of the mouth, hanging more than half way down the front of the torso. One large eye centered the sloping forehead which receded back to the bulbous, rounded head. The eyes of all the sculpted horrors were closed and for some reason I was tremulously relieved. I did not want such a monstrosity, even in stone sleep gazing at me.
In all there were seven alcoves but only four were occupied by the carved images. Even these were not left untouched by the vagaries of geologic forces. The fissure that interrupted the cavern wall and had breached the barrier behind us also ran through the alcoves. The forms that were carved within and seemingly out of the same stone as the tunnel walls were broken and marred where the crack ran through them. Their hideous beauty and symmetry disfigured by the only force of nature evident in the cave system.
The three alcoves that stood empty were a puzzlement to us. We speculated on their vacancy. Perhaps the artisans had not finished sculpting their occupants. Or what seemed more likely may have been that they had survived the fissure and had been later moved by their authors away from their injured relatives. What hand had carved them we could only guess. The detail and workmanship rivaled anything Michelangelo or Di Vinci had ever done. But to what purpose? Were these some elder gods or beings worshipped by ignorant yet remarkable talented savages? We highly doubted this, for the craftsmanship bespoke of a civilization far above that of any aboriginal people indigenous to this area. None of us voiced the terrifying thought that disturbed all of our minds. Were these the representation of actual beings, caught and frozen in stone by some horrible supplicant’s hand?
One startling feature we did accept was that the height of these creatures roughly seven and a half feet tall matched the dimensions of the benches in the pod we had just left behind. Perhaps this was an indication as to who may have created the tunnel and pod system. Maybe for all their ferocious appearance these statues were a memorial to the selfsame civilization. Maybe they were as intelligent as terrifying. This was an inane futile fantasy on our part to give these stone beings a peaceful nature. Perhaps we would never know the secret to the mysteries of this discovery. Everything about these beings hinted at a vicious predator which was not encumbered by emotion or conscience.
I took out my torch so that McCleary who was a bit of an artist could make sketches of our find. The detail was unbelievable. Even those that had been marred by the fissure seemed to have been returned to and sculpted upon so that at the break the stone showed the muscles and organs that might have lain beneath the chitenous armor. Jarlssen moved ahead at this time, just a little way. He said he didn’t want to lose his night eyes. When McCleary had sketched the beings from enough angles to satisfy himself I extinguished my lamp and we moved ahead.
It took several minutes for our eyes to grow accustomed again to the green light but Jan moved ahead confidently so we followed without worry. The larger blister that we had seen held three openings leading into it. They were almost set in a pattern reminiscent of the isosceles triangle as the three pits above. Applying ourselves as before we entered the apertures. It was apparent that this had been constructed as a meeting place as we had surmised. The benches were carved into the wall of the pod instead of up from the floor. They ringed the circular enclosure in much the same way as seats in an arena. The center was leveled out and rose slightly above the rest of the floor forming a kind of podium. Through the expansive dome we were afforded a much more panoramic view of the floor of the lake. Boulders and roots of the mountains reached arthritically up from the hoary surface. Large lake trout and other fish lazed about in the waters. A silver curtain of smelt shimmered by, catching the light from above like so many animated diamonds. A gar, with its disquieting prehistoric look cruised by in a predatory manner much like its distant cousin the shark.
We spent only a small amount of time in his chamber, the wonder still inspiring yet we had much more cave to explore. Also the day was speeding on. We returned to the cave below and made our way forward.
Not much further on we came upon another alcove that proved more a storage room than a mere niche in the wall. Once again we had to light our lamps as this room did not have a source of illumination. Inside was what at first looked like a pile of refuse but upon further examination turned out to be a mound of remnants from the builders of this subterranean world. Objects that must have been tools of some design lay discarded. They defied any logical attempt to discover their use. Other startling objects proved to be bones and emptied armor of beings similar to the statues. There were bones and partial skeletal remains of other unidentifiable living beings.
There were no ornaments or remnants of clothing, no clasps, no broaches, no medallions that so many civilizations had used and wore as a gauge of their standing in the social community. Indeed this pile, the more we studied it, began to look more like the refuse pile we had first taken it to be. Behind this first pile there stood another that was a shock to us one and all. It was a collection of human bones.
Yet it did not lie in disarray as had the first mound. With near clinical exactness each bone was laid out with corresponding bones from other bodies. How many individuals went into making such a cache was impossible for us to tell. The deliberate grouping of skulls with skulls, femurs, and the like was what disquieted us the most. It would take an expert pathologist sifting through the numerous remains days to discern how many and who these people may have been.
Our enthusiasm much subdued we backed out of the alcove and slowly made our way forward again. I know I was fearful of what the next step may unfold before us and I can only imagine that my two companions felt the same. There was a total cessation of conversation about our discoveries. Indeed I was even beginning to doubt our decision of proceeding and entertained thoughts of returning to the surface world and the warmth of the summer sun. Of letting it burn the memory of this cave system from my mind.
Yet continue on we did. We were scientists at heart and if not very brave, we were at least pragmatic. We knew we had to see the end of this tunnel no matter what. It wasn’t so much out curiosity as it was a sense of duty to the world to find out all we could about these tunnels and who created them.
As we journeyed further into this growingly nightmarish world I became aware of a clicking sound. How long it had been present I don’t know but I became aware of it gradually. Once I was certain it was there I motioned silently for my two comrades to pause and listen. McCleary’s nod and the intent look on Jarlssen’s face told me that they heard it also. With as much quiet as we could muster we removed our packs and retrieved the firearms we brought along. Initially these were included in our stores to discourage wolf attack, which we heard was a common occurrence in these north woods. Once their comforting weight was felt on our fists our courage was bolstered. We moved forward with a little more confidence.
A dimming of the green twilight showed that we were leaving the blisters behind, or were going further down away from the light. The tunnel still sloped downward at a gradual angle. Not much further on we came to a peculiar arch that had a bloated wart like feel to it as if it had been grown into the cave wall instead of having been carved out of it. The organic look was very similar to the blisters. It led into what I can only term as a round house it so resembled its railroad counterpart. The roof of the chamber was an ingenious groin vaulting, the seams of which separated all of the openings. The floor leveled out and was vacant of furnishing and carvings. As we stepped into the space we noticed that the clicking sound had either stopped or we could not discern it from this region. We were momentarily reassured so we felt it was safe to split and each explore a tunnel.
Jarlssen entered the one that lay straight ahead, McCleary the one closest to the right and I, the one on the left. The hall through which I was walking grew warmer and I could no longer see my breath plume into the air before me. The pods and blisters reappeared but the climb up to them was now of a greater height and I don’t think I could have attained it even with the help of my companions. I felt no need to explore them as they were probably much the same as the ones we had already entered. I hadn’t gone very far when I heard the sharp staccato of shots echo through the confining walls around us. The sharp retorts were followed by a hideous scream.
I sprinted back to the central chamber where I was met by Jarlssen. We both skidded to a stop. We took only scant seconds to assure one another that the shots did not come from us. We glanced toward the hall which McCleary had entered.
With pistols at the ready we hurried down the hall only to find the steaming remains of McCleary slumped lifeless upon the floor. The condition of the body was horrible to view. The skin about his face looked as if something relentless had been forced up beneath it. It was pulled away from the skull around the mouth, leaving stark bone and ligament visible. The skin itself hung limp as if it had been stretched beyond its allowable elasticity. McCleary’s lower jaw had been removed with almost surgical precision. Even though we did not want to, we peered into the empty cavity of the Irishman’s torso. All of his internal organs had either been scraped or sucked out.
Everything about his body had been gone over as if it had been examined minutely by some questioning intelligence. Clothes and limbs had been moved about as if they were tested for their strength and purpose. Surprisingly nothing about this pack had been touched. I flipped the cover over and saw that the copper alloy shards lay undisturbed at the top where they had been placed. A vague fear touched its icy fingers to my spine as I realized that the shards were probably what had kept the pack from being molested. Also untouched was McCleary’s pistol, as if that which had caused this destruction had not known it for what it was.
Jan removed and transferred to his back the copper that the luckless Irishman had been carrying. I picked up his pistol and told the Swede I was going to follow the hall further to see if I could discover what had killed our friend. His death had been quick and there was hardly any blood anywhere so I felt the murderer had continued down the tunnel.
Jarlssen was almost beside himself with fear. His ever present reluctance was being put to the test. He felt like he was being smothered by all of this. It took several assurances from me to convince him that I would take all precautions in my endeavor.
It was with trepidations approaching a nervous breakdown that he finally agreed to wait in the round house chamber. I promised to go on for only ten minutes before returning. If I found nothing the most he would have to wait would be twenty minutes. I told him that if I didn’t return after that time then he was to return to the surface and make his way back to civilized surroundings.
He stammered, “What should I do about the cleft?” I could see sweat beading at his hairline.
“If I don’t make it back then blow the thing up. We have blasting charges with us. But make sure you wait. I don’t want to get trapped down here.”
He promised that he would so I turned. I continued on, glancing now and then at my pocket watch. The floor and walls which I also kept in sight, showed no signs of foot or nail prints, claw marks, or scrapings of any kind to mar their smooth surface. I was unable to find anything to shed any light on the death of the Irishman. Ten minutes lapsed. My time had passed and I was forced to turn back disappointed.
Far back I could see the lighter area of the round house through the doorway. I had traveled quite a ways from it in my ten minutes. About half of the way back I heard a horrendous scream that I recognized as Jarlssen. I broke into a run, sliding to a halt just at the entrance. Peering cautiously through I was paralyzed by the sight of one of the statues come to life bending over the Swede. I fear I lost all conscious will over my body by the horrendous spectacle. I was unable to move, unable to yell, I must confess that I even lost control of bladder and bowel. Such was the scene I beheld.
The tentacles of the creature were forced into Jan’s face through his mouth yet they did not continue down his throat. Instead I could see that they wormed their way upward over his skull yet still beneath the flesh of his face. Even as I watched a sharp beak became visible beneath the tentacles and moved forward lightning quick to tear off the lower jaw. It continued on to reach the esophagus. A long barbed tongue appeared in the opened beak and it began to scoop out the internal organs from the writhing figure of the man in its grasp.
I gasped involuntarily and that hateful head turned in my direction, focusing me with its baleful cyclopean eye. Control returned to my body and I scrambled back as the nightmarish monster rushed toward me. The fact that I held a pistol in each hand dawned on me in a realization of discovery. I raised and fired with both but the bullets did not slow the beast at all. They either ricocheted of its chitenous armor or where they were able to sink home were unable to do any discernible damage. Still scrambling backward I stumbled and fell. The force of my fall knocked the pistols free from my grip and also dislodged the pack from my back, spilling its contents to the floor about me.
The creature loomed over me, menacing and waving its claws, tentacles, and tail before me, yet it held itself away at some invisible radius. I glanced down at my spilled pack and saw the gleaming sheen of the copper. Forcing bravery that I did not know I had, I picked up a long sharp fragment and waved it toward the fearsome being before me. It gave ground grudgingly yet did not turn and flee. It moved deliberately trying to keep me within the hall where McCleary died. Fear and determination turned the following long moments into lifetimes as I was threatened and I in turn threatened back. The feinting and sparring was done in complete silence. The only noise was my harsh, labored breathing and the clack and click of the creature’s talons on the stone floor. Gradually I became aware of a clicking as soft hooting approached me from behind and realized why the monster was seeking to detain me. One or more of its kin was joining the attack from the rear.
Fear and an almost desperate hysteria fed determined strength to me as I lunged with the shard and stabbed upward at the creature. The strange copper alloy had some special property to its makeup. It cleaved through the tough ligaments that held the armor tight against the creature’s torso and slicing through the alien flesh sunk deeply into its chest area. The scream that issued from its beak and echoed in my ears told me that I had injured the being. It quickly turned and stumbled off in pain down another tunnel. Intermittent screams and whistles issued from that tunnel and were later copied from the one in which I stood. Other calls began to echo from other tunnels and the terror and battle were finally too much for me.
The mad, blind panic into which I sunk mercifully blurred the retreat and frenzied escape up the tunnels. Vaguely I was aware of being pursued up the sloping grade through the cave system toward the vertical exit but pursuit only went as far as the damaged barrier. I did not consciously ponder my escape but some unconscious will, some survival instinct took over.
I did not fully regain any sanity until what I surmised was late the following day. After returning to civilization, however, I found that I must have wandered the wood of the Porcupine Mountains for three or more days. How I survived without stores or protection must lie in the realm of Providence. I only know that once I again became rationally aware of my surroundings I was back at the automobile we had left behind. Sunset had already claimed its holding on the land as I climbed upon the bench seat and sunk exhausted in the cab. All that had transpired I now began to doubt. Defensively my mind tried to convince myself that my two friends would return and that it had all been a base dream of delirium. Yet still my mind would not let me forget.
I noticed my pack on the ground beside the car and with a shaking hand I reached for it and lifted the flap. Reluctantly I peered into it and there lay the evidence which I had inwardly dreaded seeing. The copper alloy lay on the top in plain sight. The stark memories came rushing back. Looking about the car I saw the stores we had left behind as being too cumbersome. I thought of the loss of my friends which I was powerless to prevent yet filled me with an overwhelming guilt. Revenge was in my mind but taking steps to prevent the further loss of life weighed upon me also. I realized that I had to return up the ravines and bluffs to ensure that the opening was sealed forever.
I will not presume to bore you with the return trip or how I used the dynamite from our stores to seal that vertical wound in reality. The dust that billowed out from the crevice did tell me that my efforts had been fruitful. I was convinced that the tunnel had collapsed. I did ponder the horrendous life that we had found below. What manner of being was this and how long had they lain dormant before the fissure breached the copper barrier to let in fresh air to awaken them? Where had they originated, were they an older race that preceded man on this world? Did they arrive here from some distant hostile planet far beyond the firmament? In my human conceit I believe that the Earth could never spawn such an abomination. Yet, as I have said this probably stems from a homo sapien -centric view point.
This episode had cost me years of my life. I also fear it has loosened my grasp on the tenuous reality we know of this world. I never relinquished the copper alloy to the Chase Company. Instead I had some of it melted down and cast into a ring which I constantly wear on my finger. Is it a reminder? Well, yes, in a way, but it is also a talisman of sorts; a talisman to help protect me from those half imagined darker creatures that may walk the unexplored paths of this planet. A gut wrenching emptiness cramps my stomach whenever I gland at the ring yet as I am over come with trembling and shudders the likes of which medical science cannot explain. I haven’t told anyone this tale so the cause of my fits will remain undiagnosed. I can tell you though it is from the thought of removing the metal band from my finger that gives me the shakes.
