Pimedas koopas laternat hoidva inimese siluett, mis loob salapärase atmosfääri.

Teine osa: Suletud tunneli saladus

Veepiisad langesid nüüd meie tõrvikule. Tuli oli kustumas.

Me seisime kitsas tunnelis – nii kitsas, et professori õlg oli vastu kivi kriimustanud ja Hansu selg lõi pidevalt vastu lage. Mu hingamine muutus ebakindlaks. Hapnik maitses selles tunnelis teistmoodi – justkui kuuluks õhk teise aega.

Siis juhtus midagi... midagi, mis saatis meile jääd mööda selgroogu.

Tunneli suue meie selja taga oli sulgunud.

Ei mingit heli ega värinat. Käik, millest me just läbi tulime, oli nüüd kive täis, justkui poleks rada kunagi olemas olnudki.

„Kuidas… kuidas see võimalik on?” pomisesin ma.

Professor tõstis taskulambi kõrgemale ja selles virvendavas valguses nägime midagi – kriimustusi tunneli seinal. Justkui oleks keegi – või miski – püüdnud naelte või küünistega välja kraapida.

Hans ütles väriseval häälel: „Need jäljed… need on värsked.”

Astusin seinale lähemale ja puudutasin seda – kivi oli niiske ja kriimustused olid tõepoolest värsked. Keegi… või miski… oli üritanud siit põgeneda.

Professor hingas sügavalt sisse. „Need pole lihtsalt looduslikud moodustised, Axel. Need rajad… nad mõtlevad.“

„Nad arvavad nii?“ küsisin ma šokeeritult.

„Jah… vahel nad avanevad, vahel sulguvad. Mingi jõud siin all juhib meid – ja tahab, et me kuhugi läheksime.“

Võtsin taskulambi ja astusin sügavamale tunnelisse. Vesi loksus mu kanna all ja õhk oli täis kummalist lõhna – midagi mädanemise taolist... või ehk midagi ammu maetud olevat.

Siis me kuulsime seda – nõrka, pidevat sahinat… nagu roomaks midagi tohutut, kaugel meie all.

(Tagasivaade)
Kaks nädalat tagasi olime saabunud Reykjavíki. Islandi pealinna – pealtnäha rahulik, aga me teadsime, et olime seal vaid mõnepäevased külalised. Pärast seda pidi meie teekond minema allapoole – kaugele, kaugele alla.

Olime pakkinud kaasa vaid kõige hädavajalikuma: kuivtoidu, vee, tõrvikud ja kaardi – sama kaardi, mis osutas kustunud vulkaani suudmele, mida peeti meie teekonna võtmeks.

Professor oli rahul. Ta ei ajanud taga ainult Maa saladusi – ta otsis tõestust oma teadmistele.

Mina? Mind huvitas ainult tagasitee leidmine.

Tunnelis kajas jälle heli – nüüd lähemal.

Me kolmekesi pressisime kokku. Taskulamp virvendas. Hinge kinni pidades kuulasime.

Ja siis… nägime liikuvat varju.

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Episode Two: The Secret of the Sealed Tunnel
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Beneath the Depths of the Earth
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Abdul Jabbar
Drops of water were now falling onto our torch. The fire was on the verge of going out.
We were standing in a narrow tunnel — so narrow that the professor’s shoulder had scraped against the stone, and Hans’s back kept hitting the ceiling. My breathing became erratic. The oxygen in this tunnel tasted different — as if the air belonged to another time.
Then something happened… something that sent ice down our spines.
The mouth of the tunnel behind us had sealed shut.
There was no sound, no tremor. The passage we had just come through was now packed with stones, as if the path had never existed.
“How… how is this possible?” I muttered.
The professor raised the torch higher, and in that flickering light, we saw something — scratch marks on the wall of the tunnel. As if someone — or something — had tried to claw its way out using nails or talons.
Hans spoke in a trembling voice, “These marks… they’re fresh.”
I stepped closer to the wall and touched it — the rock was damp, and the scratches were indeed fresh. Someone… or something… had tried to escape through here.
The professor took a deep breath. “These are not just natural formations, Axel. These paths… they think.”
“They think?” I asked, shocked.
“Yes… sometimes they open, sometimes they close. Some force down here is guiding us — and it wants us to go somewhere.”
I took the torch and stepped deeper into the tunnel. Water squelched under my heel, and the air was thick with a strange smell — something like decay… or perhaps something long buried.
Then we heard it — a faint, constant rustling… like something massive was crawling, far beneath us.
(Flashback)
Two weeks ago, we had arrived in Reykjavík. The capital of Iceland — calm on the surface, but we knew we were only guests there for a few days. After that, our journey would lead downward — far, far below.
We had packed only the essentials: dried food, water, torches, and a map — the same map that pointed to the mouth of an extinct volcano, said to be the key to our journey.
The professor was content. He wasn’t just chasing the secrets of the Earth — he was seeking proof of his knowledge.
Me? I only cared about finding the way back.
A sound echoed in the tunnel again — closer now.
The three of us pressed together. The torch flickered. Holding our breath, we listened.
And then… we saw a shadow move.
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