The Descent

Faces  flushed.  Lips  cracked.  Those  still  carrying  Chap-stick  even  used  it  on  their splitting cuticles. By the thirtieth hour, they  knew what it was like to be roasted alive. Head  draped  with  a  red-and-white  checkered  cotton  scarf,  Ike  warned  them  to keep covered.  The  NASA survival  suits were  supposed to wick their sweat  to  a  second layer  to  circulate  and  cool.  But  the  humidity  inside  their  suits  became  unbearable. Soon  everyone  had  stripped  to  underwear,  even  Ike  in  his  kayak.  Appendix  scars, moles,   birthmarks   all   went   on   display;   later   the   revelations   would   fuel   new nicknames.

Ali had never  known thirst like this.

'How much longer?' a voice croaked from the line. Ike  grinned. 'Drink,' he said.

They  moved  on,  mouths  open.  The  batteries  of  their  boat  motors  had  run  down. They  paddled listlessly, spooning at the river.

At  one  point  the  tunnel  wall  became  so  hot,  it  glowed  dull  red.  They  could  see  raw

magma through  a  gash  opened  in  the  wall.  It  arched  and  seethed  like  gold  and  blood, roiling  in  the  planetary  womb.  Ali  dared  one  glance  and  darted  her  face  away  and stroked  on. Its  hush was like a great  geological lullaby.

The  river  looped around and through the volcano's searing root system.  There  were, as always, forks and false paths. Somehow, Ike  knew which way  to go.

The  tunnel  began  to  close  on  them.  Ali  was  near  the  end  of  the  line.  Suddenly screams issued from the very  back. She thought they  were  under attack.

Ike  appeared, his kayak  scooting upriver  like a water  bug.  He  passed  Ali's  raft,  then stopped. The  walls had plasticized and bulged  in  on  the  tunnel,  confining  the  very  last raft on its upriver  side.

'Who are they?'  Ike  asked Ali and her boatload.

'Walker's guys,' someone answered. 'There  were  two of them.'

The  shouting on the far side of the opening was anonymous. The  hemorrhaged stone made a noise like a ship's ribs cracking. The  outer sheath of stone  splintered,  throwing shrapnel.

Walker  and  his  boat  of  men  came  paddling  from  lower  down.  The  colonel  assessed the situation. 'Leave  them,' he said.

'But those are your  men,' Ike  said.

'There's  nothing  to  be  done.  It's  already  too  narrow  to  get  their  raft  through.  They know to retreat  if they  get cut off.' The  soldiers in Walker's  boats  were  lockjawed  with fear, veins snaky  from wrist to shoulder.

'Well, that won't do,' Ike  said, and shot upriver.

'Get back here!' Walker shouted after  him.

Ike  darted  his  kayak  through  the  narrowing  channel.  The  walls  were  deforming  by the minute. Part  of his checkered  scarf  touched  the  walls  and  caught  fire.  The  hair  on his head smoked. He popped through the maw at full speed.

The  sides bloated in behind him. The  bottom ten feet  of  the  opening  fused  shut  with a kiss.  A  gap  remained  open  near  the  ceiling,  but  it  was  easily  nine  hundred  degrees Fahrenheit through there.  No one could conceivably climb through.

'Ike?'  called Ali.

It  was as if he had just changed into solid rock.

The  new  wall  quickly  choked  back  the  river.  Even  as  Ali's  boat  of  people  sat  there, the  river's  bottom  grew  more  exposed,  inch  by  inch.  The  corridor  was  filling  with steam. It  was going to be a race to keep  ahead of the deprivation.

'We can't stay  here,' someone said.

'Wait,' Ali commanded. She added, 'Please.'

They  waited  and  the  riverbed  drained  lower.  In  another  few  minutes  their  raft would be sitting upon bare  stone.

Ali's cracked lips parted. God the Father,  she prayed.  Let  this one go free.

It  was  not  like  her.  True  devotion  was  not  quid  pro  quo.  You  never  cut  deals  with God.  Once,  as  a  child,  she  had  pleaded  for  her  parents'  return.  Ever  since,  Ali  had decided to let be what was. Thy  will be done.

'Let him live,' she murmured.

The  walls did not open. This was not a fairy tale. The  stone stayed  welded.

'Let's go,' said Ali.

Then  they  heard  a  different  sound.  Dammed  on  the  far  side,  the  river  had  built height. Abruptly,  a jet of water  shot through the molten aperture  at the top.

'Look!'

Like  Jonah  being  vomited  from  the  whale,  one,  then  two  men  came  blasting  from the  hole.  Sheathed  in  water,  they  were  protected  from  the  scalding  rock  and  thrown clear into the lower river.

The  two soldiers staggered  downstream  through  the  thigh-deep  water,  weaponless, burned,  naked.  But  alive.  The  raft  of  scientists  returned  and  pulled  the  two  bleating,

shocked men onto their floor. 'Where's Ike?'  Ali yelled to  them,  but  their  throats  were too swollen to speak.