Atlantis

too wide to be a pool of oxygen caught against the ceiling of the tunnel.

His lungs began to spasm as he scraped with increasing desperation through the narrowing folds of rock. As he pushed beyond the lava and broke surface he almost crashed his head against the rock ceiling. He gasped repeatedly, then staggered out of the water. He had reached sea level but was still deep within the volcano, the passageway ahead showing no sign of an exit as it continued to rise.

It had only been three minutes since he had left Costas and Katya but it seemed an eternity. As he fought unconsciousness he focused all his energies on the orange tape that emerged behind him, pulling again and again until it slackened in his hands and he lay still.

There was a huge eruption of spray as Costas hove into view, his body welling out like a surfacing whale. Katya followed seconds later and immediately began inspecting Jack’s wound, her face etched with concern as she saw the crust of blood which had oozed through the gash in his suit.

Costas ripped off his mask and breathed heavily, his dark hair matted to his forehead and his face puffed and red.

“Remind me to diet,” he panted. “I had a spot of bother with that final section.”

He struggled to the edge of the pool and kicked off his fins. Jack had recovered enough to raise himself on his elbows and was unscrewing the beam projector on his flashlight so the exposed bulb would cast a shadowy candlelight around them.

“Join the club,” he replied. “I feel like I’ve been through a meat grinder.”

Their voices sounded rich and resonant after so long on the intercom. Jack eased himself further up the slope and flinched with pain.

“I stowed Katya’s backpack just inside the tunnel,” Costas said. “There’s enough trimix left for two of us to buddy-breathe back to the submarine in case we need it. I also tied the end of the tape to the lightstick in that air pocket. If we have to go back we just remember to turn right at that fork.”

The water was peppered with tiny bubbles fizzing to the surface. They stared at it as they caught their breath.

“That’s odd,” Costas said. “Looks like more than just the remains of oxygen from the regulator. Must be some kind of gas discharge from that volcanic vent.”

Now they were all safely out they were able to look around their new environment. Up the slope was another rectilinear rock-cut passageway leading inexorably upwards, yet the view was oddly different.

“It’s algae,” Costas said. “There must be just enough natural light for photosynthesis. We must be closer to the outside than I thought.”

Now that the commotion in the pool had died down, they could hear the steady sound of dripping.

“Rainwater,” Costas said. “The volcano will be saturated after the storm. There’ll be a vapour plume the size of a nuclear explosion.”

“At least Seaquest should have no trouble finding us.” Jack’s words were laboured as he raised himself to his knees. The rush of oxygen had sustained him through the tunnel but now his body was working overtime to flush the remaining nitrogen. He staggered as he stood up, careful to avoid the slippery patches where the rainwater spattered around them. He knew his trial was not over yet. He had beaten the clock on his air supply but would now have to face much greater pain without the numbing frigidity of the water.

Jack saw the looks of concern. “I’ll be all right. Costas, you take point.”

Just as she was about to move, Katya glanced at Jack.

“Oh, I almost forgot.”

Her olive skin and sleek black hair glistened as the water trickled off it.

“That inscription on the lintel,” she said. “I had a look while we were waiting for you to get through. The first symbol was the Mohican head, the syllable at. I’m certain the second symbol was the sheaf of corn, al or la. I have no doubt the complete inscription reads Atlantis. It’s our final waymarker.”

Jack nodded, too groggy to speak.

They began to make their way up the slope. Now that they had discarded their breathing apparatus they no longer had the headlamps which formed part of the helmet assembly. The hand-held torches were designed as emergency strobe beacons, and using them continuously quickly drained the batteries. As they worked their way up the slope, the lights began to waver and fade in unison.

“Time for chemical illumination,” Costas said.

They pocketed their torches and Costas and Katya cracked open their lightsticks. Combined with the faint beginnings of natural light, the sticks produced an unearthly aura, a glow chillingly reminiscent of the emergency lighting they had activated in the submarine’s shattered control room.

“Keep close together,” Costas warned. “These things may last for hours but they barely light up the floor. We don’t know what to expect.”

As they rounded a bend in the passage, the acrid odour which had irritated their nostrils since surfacing suddenly became indescribably foul. A warm draught carried with it the sickly-sweet smell of decay, as if the dead of Atlantis were still putrefying in their sepulchre far below.

“Sulphur dioxide,” Costas announced, his nose crinkling slightly. “Unpleasant, but not toxic if we don’t stick around for too long. There must be an active vent nearby.”

As they continued upwards they saw where another lava tube had broken through, gushing its contents like spilled concrete over the tunnel floor. The lava was jagged and brittle but did not restrict their passage like the previous flow. The hole where it emerged was rent with a honeycomb of cracks and fissures, the source of the unholy wind that intensified with every step of their approach.

“These two lava tubes we’ve encountered are relatively recent,” Costas said. “They must have broken through since the flood, otherwise the priests would have had them cleaned out and the tunnel repaired.”

“There must have been similar eruptions during the time of Atlantis,” Katya said shakily. “This place is far more active than geologists ever suspected. We’re inside a time bomb.”

Jack had been fighting the pain, a pulverizing sensation that had grown as the numbing effect of the cold wore off. Now every breath was a vicious stab, every step an agonizing jolt that pushed him to the brink of collapse.

“You two go on. We must contact Seaquest as soon as possible. I’ll follow when I can.”

“Not a chance.” Costas had never seen his friend concede defeat, and knew Jack would force himself on until he dropped, whatever the odds. “I’ll carry you on my back if it comes to it.”

Jack marshalled his remaining strength and slowly, agonizingly, followed the other two over the lava, picking his way carefully across the jagged formations. Progress was easier as the sloping floor became a series of shallow steps. About twenty metres beyond the lava, the passageway curved south, the dimensions gradually losing their regularity as the walls gave way to the natural shapes of a volcanic fissure. As the tunnel constricted further, they began to climb single file, with Costas in the lead.

“I can see light ahead,” he announced. “This must be it.”

The elevation increased sharply and they soon found themselves scrambling on their hands and knees. As they approached the dim aura of light the algae made each step progressively more treacherous. Costas slithered over the final shelf and turned back to give Jack a hand.

They had come out beside a conduit some three metres wide by three metres deep, the sides smoothed by millennia of erosion. At the bottom was a shallow stream that seemed to plummet down a narrow canyon, the distant roar of water audible but their view completely obscured by a sheen of mist. To the right the conduit headed into the rock face with a glimmer of light beyond.

Costas peered at his console to check his altimeter.

“We calculated the height of the volcano before the flood at three hundred and fifty metres above sea level. We’re now one hundred and thirty-five metres above present sea level, only about eighty metres below the tip of the cone.”

Having penetrated the volcano on the north side, they were now facing due west, the shape of the passageways reflecting the incline of the upper slopes. Ahead of them the dark mouth of the tunnel seemed set to plunge back into the labyrinth, yet it could only be a short stretch before they reached open air.

“Be careful,” Costas said. “One wrong step and this chute will send us straight to hell.”