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toddyboy · 22-03-2020, 12:04 AM

CHAPTER 2

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Michel and I were both well aware that we were in a precarious situation here. Although we werenât yet sure of what weâd got our hands on we were both of the opinion that it was definitely unusual and could quite possibly be very lucrative. We could declare our find to the world and quite possibly become rich and famous from doing so but that was risky. Questions about how we found it and where it came would be asked. If it truly was made up of what we thought it was itâd create a shit storm. Better that we leave the sphere with Gerard and continue with our clandestine excavations back in Kfar Hazir to see what else was down there. That severed pole or cable or whatever it was led down to something, but exactly what that might be or how deep it went neither of us had any clue. It would definitely be unwise to tell anyone else about it any of this. The sphere and the silo had to be kept a total secret.Â Â Â 

Â Â As it happened, Gerard wasnât even there. When I called him he was away on business in Amsterdam and wouldnât be back for another week. However, he told me I could leave whatever it was I wanted him to take a look at in the basement of his flat. His basement was pretty big, more of a workshop where Gerard messed about with all and sundry. Bit of an eccentric wizard was Gerard, but a more honest and trustworthy guy you couldnât find. He lived in Battersea, only ten miles or so from where we were. His house was one of those old three story Victorian buildings which heâd converted into a two story flat on the upper levels and a workshop on the ground floor and basement. If you didnât know how to get to it youâd never know it was there as it sat at the end of one of the myriad backstreets in the area.Â 

Â Â Â We stayed at Michelâs house in Chiswick that night. It was a fifteen minute taxi ride from Twickenham. The house was empty. His mother had died several years ago and with his father now deceased Michel had inherited it. The place was a bit cold and damp when we entered. Michel, turned the central heating on and brought some logs in from out back to get a fire going. Before long we were comfortably warm, sitting in the lounge and discussing our next plan of action. It had been a long day and we were tired so we agreed to get some sleep and work out the details the next day.

Â Â Â The next morning I hired a van from a local company and we drove back to the boat, loaded the crate into the van and forty five minutes later we pulled up outsideÂ the back of Gerardâs place. I knew where the key was, so Michel and I lugged the crate out of the van and shoehorned it down into the basement and left it there. On the ground floor,Gerard had a garage where he kept his pride and joy, a lovely Yellow and grey Yamaha TDM 850 motorbike. Iâd helped him buy it and do it up a few years back and he absolutely loved that bike. Heâd always let me have a go on it when I was in town and I have to admit, it was a hoot to ride. The keys to it were hanging up in the kitchen and I pondered whether I should give it a whirl then thought better of it. We had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Maybe some other time.Â 

Â Â During the drive back to Twickenham we both agreed that we should return to Lebanon pretty sharpish. That hole in the ground needed to be properly concealed before anyone else found it and started nosing around down inside it. Michel also voiced one major concern heâd had since weâd left: âI know secrecy is paramount but we canât do this on our own any more, Tod,â he proclaimed. âWe are going to need some more expert help.â

Â Â Â This was news to me. âHelp? What kind of expert help?â I asked.

Â Â âThe kind that deals with underground exploration, priceless artefacts, that kind of expert help,â answered Michel, emphatically.

Â Â Â I looked at my friend a bit bemused. âAnd what exactly do you mean by that? I enquired. âI thought weâd agreed this needed to be kept under wraps. Weâre going to have to bring Gerard into it because we havenât got a clue what this thing we found is. All we know is itâs some kind of machine that generates sparks, i.e. electricity, and Gerardâs the only person I know of, and more to the point, who I can trust, that might just be able to figure it out. So, who else are you thinking of involving in this?â

Â Â Â There was a moments silence while Michel formulated an answer.

Â Â âJean Roulard, an experienced deep caves explorer and archaeologist,â he said. âI met him once at a dinner my ex-employer gave at the manor in Sussex where I worked as head chef. Heâs from Quebec, Canada. He was a very nice guy, extremely communicative and knowledgeable in his field. This is the kind of person we need if we are going to get to the bottom of what that silo is really all about.â

Â Â Â âI wasnât so sure. âOkay, so youâve met some bloke once and you think you can trust him to keep his mouth shut once he gets wind of what weâre up to? What makes you think this wonât go to his head? Heâll probably want the Worldâs Press to be there as weâ¦..â

Â Â Â âNo!â Michel said curtly, not allowing me to finish. âHe wouldnât do that, Iâm sure of it. He is a good man, a trustworthy man and exactly the kind of person we need to help us with something like this. His credentials are impeccable and I am certain if I asked him to keep quiet about this he would. I am a good judge of character in such matters.â

Â Â Â I was getting slightly agitated by this point. âLook, Michel, weâre already up to our necks in it. Weâre now effectively thieves and smugglers of what could very well be a priceless artefact. If the Lebanese authorities get wind of what weâve just done, not to mention British Customs & Excise we could quite possibly find ourselves in some very hot water! Bringing another unknown person into the fray is too risky. Thereâs already too much at stake here. I donât like it one bit.â

Â Â Â âBut Tod, we canât orchestrate an archaeological dig underground, and in secret,Â not just the two of us. You know that as much as I do,â Michel protested. âNeither of us have the first clue of what might be down there. Something else is though, I think you canât disagree with that fact. For instance, where does that pole, or cable, or whatever it is go to? How deep does it go and what does it connect to? You know what Iâm talking about here. We need someone who knows his way around underground; someone who has the expertise and experience to deal with what we might find.â

Â Â Â I just sighed, looked down at my hands and shook my head. Michel was probably right, we would most likely struggle tackling something like this on our own. However, I was at a loss as to what to say next.

Â Â Â âSo thatâs settled then,â Michel asserted.

Â Â Â I just shrugged and said âwhatever! Youâre the boss.â

Â Â Â

Jean Roulard was indeed a formidable exponent of underground exploration, as Michel had stated. He was also well known for his radical views on the genus of ancient civilisations apparently, i.e. that civilisation didnât begin with the Greeks or Egyptians but that it began much further back in time. To this end he was considered a bit of a maverick in archaeological circles, shunned by the recognised mainstream institutes yet revered by those who harboured similar ideas, the âastro-archaeologistsâ as they were sometimes called.Â 

Â Â Â Roulard lived in London. Michel made contact with him and we met him at a pub in Chiswick that had a beer garden overlooking the river. Jean was an affable kind of guy. It was easy to warm to his easy going nature and he was fascinated to hear about our discovery. By the end of the evening he was on board. Two days later the three of us were on a plane heading for Beirut. Â Â 

Â Â Â

Three weeks had elapsed since our return to Kfar-Hazir. No one else was aware of the âsiloâ other than Jean, and more importantly weâd been able to continue secretly digging down from where weâd discovered the sphere.Â 

Â Â Â The severed pole, or cable, or whatever it was, seemed to go down interminably. We had by now managed to dig out another five metres of earth and rocks around it but still could see no end to it. What we did find however was another opening on one side of the silo that was jammed with rocks and rubble. As we started to excavate it we began to realise it was some kind of entrance to another subterranean chamber for it had a set of steps that led downwards. This was an exciting development.

Â Â Â These steps were odd though. As we dug further down we noticed that each riser was three times higher that of a normal step, almost as if they were built for giants. It took us another two days to fully uncover this new opening and a day more to excavate the landfill inside it to a further depth of two metres.Â 

Â Â Â There was only room for one of us to work at what we called the âpit faceâ so we each took it in turns to be the lead digger while one of us pulled the debris out bucket by bucket and then the one above hauled it up to the surface using the electric winch. It was hard going.

Â Â Â We had descended almost ten metres into the original silo and were now a further three metres down into this new opening when Michel, whoâs turn it was to be digging at the face, noticed that the rocks and rubble seemed to be becoming looser. Unfortunately for him, he found out why that was - the hard way!Â 

Â Â Thrusting his spade into the rocks and soil for the umpteenth time, there was a sudden movement and before he could react the whole lot gave way beneath him. Michel disappeared, swallowed up into the hole that had appeared. He fell another three metres or so, bumping down a series of hard steps and landed awkwardly on more rocks while more debris showered down from where heâd just fell from. When the landslide had abated he just lay there dazed and confused, not knowing whether heâd broken anything. He could move his arms and his legs and after a bit of effort found he could sit up. Miraculously, apart from some serious bruising and a few scratches he realised he wasnât badly hurt.

Â Â Â I was panicking. Michel had literally disappeared into the bowels of the earth and taken half a ton of rocks and earth with him! I shouted down into the darkness below and to my utter relief heard Michelâs faint voice calling back.

Â Â Â Jean, who was up on the surface, looking down through the opening, shouted down desperate to know what had happened, but I didnât answer him. I was too preoccupied with what had happened to Michel.

Â Â Â After heâd recovered from the initial shock, Michel clambered to his feet, dusted himself off, tapped his head torch and looked around him. This new chamber was different. It had a ceiling, whereas the silo only had walls. This ceiling was also curved, and like the walls of the silo was made of the same plastic/metallic type of material, but it was the size of the space that astounded him. It was some thirty metres across by the looks of it. The âfloorâ that he was standing on was a mixture of earth and rocks but he soon realised this was probably not the actual base of the room. He was standing on what must have been a landslide or cave in that had occurred long ago. He was sure that this large chamber was actually much bigger than he could currently see, almost as if he were standing on top of several feet of rocks and earth. Though it was difficult to see much with just the miners light strapped to his forehead, he could make out what looked like the top of arched openings at the far end of the room.Â 

Â Â Â âMichel, are you okay?â I yelled.Â 

Â Â Â âYes, Iâm fine, Tod. Come down here. This is amazing!â he replied.Â 

Â Â Â I clambered down over the lower steps and rubble and joined him. âJesus! This is a turn up for the books,â I said, looking around me in awe.

Â Â Â âI told you there was more down here. Letâs take a look over there,â said Michel, pointing towards the arched openings heâd spotted.

Â Â Â Holding on to each other to steady ourselves, we clambered and stumbled over rocks and earth and reached the other end of this strange half buried chamber where we found two large openings. Cautiously, Michel led the way through the one on the left. On the other side we found ourselves standing in what looked like a large tunnel that stretched either way into the darkness.

Â Â Â âWhat the hell is this?â I said in a hushed tone.

Â Â Â âIf we werenât twenty metres down in the middle of the Lebanese desert Iâd say we were in a disused subway station,â Michel replied.

Â Â âYou know what, Michel, youâre not wrongââ I agreed. It does look just like that. This is insane.âÂ 

Â Â Â So, here we were, in an underground tunnel that led to who knows where and was also god knows how long. The tunnel, as with the connecting chamber must have been subject to a huge cave in some time in the past by the looks of it.Â 

Â Â Â âWhatever it is, it hasnât been used for a bloody long time, but youâve sure brought home the bacon this time, Michel me old mate,â I said, patting my friend on the back, then immediately regretting doing so as he winced with pain.

Â Â Â âOops, sorry mate. Anyway weâre really getting somewhere now. Where do you suppose this tunnel leads,â I asked, peering either way into the inky void.

Â Â Â âNo idea,â Michel said emphatically. âBut we better get up top and report to Jean, or heâll think weâre dead or something.âÂ 

Â Â Â We could both hear Jeanâs muffled cries from up above and so we made our way back through the arched opening as quickly as we could, gingerly clambering back over the landslide and up the large steps till eventually we made it back out into the base of the silo.

Â Â Â âWeâre okay, Jean!â I shouted, looking up at the small concerned face ten metres above us. âWinch us up will ya?â

Â Â Â Keeping the underground excavations and the existence of the silo a secret had, up to this point been relatively easy. But then two old men, claiming to be old friends of Michelâs father turned up unannounced and started asking all kinds of awkward questions. They were friendly enough but they gave the distinct impression that they were looking for something. They knew of Michelâs fatherâs death and were overly profuse in their condolences as only Arab people can be. In turn, Michel was polite and courteous to them, though he was at a loss as to who they really were.Â 

Â Â Â The older of the two, a man named Rashid seemed very interested in what exactly Michel was doing here. He and his brother Hashim told Michel how they and his father were best friends when they were children but that his father had surprised everyone when heâd simply upped and gone to England whilst he was only a teenager. They said they had tried to contact him on several occasions but Jerjy, as they called him, never responded. Instead, he just sent money in lieu of communication, which, although generous in the extreme, they would still have preferred to have spoken to him in person. They said they could never understand how Jerjy had become so well established in London in such a short time. To their knowledge he never had any wherewithal when he lived here in Lebanon. They were interested in how heâd came about his good fortune.

Â Â Â Questions, questions, questions! Michel couldnât answer any of them. They were also the same questions he had asked himself many times which made it even more difficult for him. It seemed to him that these old men were implying something, but he couldnât figure out what it was. They spoke in such veiled terms and their English wasnât very good either. His father had never spoken of these men but they seemed to know a lot about him, at least of when he was a child.

Â Â Â However, after several hours they seemed to lose interest and eventually left.

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CHAPTER 3

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Now totally focused on further exploring our bizarre find down below, weâd made a couple of sorties along the tunnel either way but had turned back after a couple of hundred metres having found nothing else of interest. The tunnel seemed to go on and on and strangely, went down either way at a very slight incline, though to where exactly we had no clue.Â 

Â Â Â All was not well on the surface however. Up to this point things had been pretty unstable politically but now it was going from bad to worse. The Syrian border had recently been closed and the news bulletins were abuzz with alarming information that all diplomatic relations between the current Syrian regime and Lebanon had ceased.

Â Â Then we received a visit from two men from the local authorities who told us that because the property was no more than eighty miles from the border with Syria and with tensions rising, it was suggested that we leave Lebanon altogether and go back to our homes abroad. They were aiming their requests at Michel mainly, he being the legal owner. He wasnât happy about this state of affairs but also realised that the authorities werenât really concerned for his or our welfare, they wanted a kick back!Â 

Â Â Â After a good deal of haggling he got permission to be allowed to stay but only after handing over a substantial bribe. That placated the two officials but they also warned him that he and his Western associates were risking our lives staying in Lebanon. Things were about to get much worse in the coming weeks, they warned.

Â Â Â And they werenât wrong! It was only 48 hours later that things did indeed begin to take a severe turn for the worse. The first indication that something untoward was about to happen was when we spied a disturbance in the distance; a convoy of troops driving Eastwards across the desert come under aerial bombardment. The lead vehicle, a Humvee, suffered a direct hit. Then the shells began exploding closer to the property. Minutes later, shells and rockets began to rain down and were exploding only fifty metres or so from the house.Â 

Â Â Â Michel and I had been watching through the window as the scene of carnage unfolded and decided it was time to take cover. Jean was still below ground and we figured it was time to join him. Rushing out to the entrance hole, I climbed down the makeshift rope ladder first and made it to the base of the silo. Michel followed suit. We then made our way down the steps of the side access door and entered the large underground chamber where we found Jean standing there with a shovel in his hand, looking upwards with a decidedly worried look on his face. At this depth the shells impacting above sounded like elephants stomping around on the ceiling.

Â Â Â âDoesnât sound too good up there,â Jean commented.

Â Â âDoesnât look too great either,â replied Michel. âsomeone is bombing someone else. This is getting messy. We may have toâ¦â¦.ââ¦â¦ He didnât get to finish the sentence.

Â Â Â A tremendous explosion, followed by a shock wave literally threw us all backwards through the air a good six feet. Plumes of dust and flying debris followed in its wake. The three of us could do nothing but keep our heads down and shield our mouths and noses with our shirts, not knowing what was going to happen next. Â Â 

Â Â Â Then the explosions on the surface stopped as suddenly as theyâd begun and it went eerily quiet, save for the pattering of bits of airborne debris settling to the ground. As the dust began to settle it became apparent that whatever had just occurred was major. When we were sure it was over, we got up, brushed ourselves down, grabbed a torch each and with our faces still masked with the cloth of our shirts we looked up to discover the situation we were in was about to get even more dire.Â 

Â Â Â The entrance hole to the silo on the surface must have received a direct hit, for the side entrance opening into it was completely blocked with rocks and earth.

Â Â Half an hourâs digging proved fruitless. The compressed earth and rock had securely blocked our way out. We were well and truly trapped. For a while we just sat there looking forlornly at the blocked entrance. None of us spoke much. We were all lost in our own thoughts, each contemplating what to do next; none of us coming up with anything.Â 

Â Â Â At first it didnât sink in but then it began to dawn on us that there was only one thing for it; we would have to take our chances in the underground tunnel. Almost instinctively, and without speaking a word, all three of us began foraging around for food, water and anything else that resembled survival kit. There wasnât much, a few tins of sardines and some bread, half a bottle of water, two shovels and some rope. That was about it.

Â Â Â âThereâs no point in waiting around. The quicker we get going the better. You guys ready?â I asked, looking either way down the black tunnel.

Â Â Â âWhich way?â asked Michel.

Â Â Â None of us could decide. Both ways looked as dark and mysterious as the other.

Â Â Â âWeâll toss for it then,â I said. âHeads is North, tails is South. With three of us there has to be a decision, one way or the other.âÂ 

Â Â Â Michel and Jean agreed.Â 

Â Â Â Jean went first. âTails!â he said.

Â Â Â I flipped the coin.

Â Â Â âTails it is. My turn; I say heads,â I announced.

Â Â I flipped the coin. It landed on heads.

Â Â Â âYour turn Michel.âÂ 

Â Â Â Michel took one last look either way and said, âtails!â

Â Â Â The coin landed on tails.

Â Â Â âSouth it is then,â I said. âGet your walking shoes on boys.âÂ 

Â Â Â It was inky black in that tunnel and when we reached the furthest point weâd gone before we stopped and waited for a moment. None of us said a word but each knew what the other was thinking. There was something very foreboding about going any further into that malevolent darkness ahead. We had no idea how far it went or whatÂ we would find along the way. Nevertheless, we unanimously agreed that going back was pointless, so we got going.Â 

Â Â Every step we took led us further into the unknown, a dark all enveloping unknown with only a torch each to show the way. After a few hundred yards more weÂ decided to use just one torch, just in case the tunnel was longer than we thought. Actually, none of us had even contemplated how long it might be.Â 

Â Â Â As we progressed we noticed the ceiling was becoming higher. The earth and rocks were thinning out as we went. After travelling for a few more minutes there were only a few scattered boulders under our feet. The remnants of the cave-in way back when was diminishing and before long we found themselves standing on the base of what had now become a huge tunnel with curved walls encircling us and the top section so high that the torch beam could hardly make it out. Steeling ourselves for what might lay ahead of us, we trudged on warily with Jean leading the way.Â 

Â Â Â For hours on end we walked along the base of the tunnel. Jeanâs torch had ran out of battery a ways back so I had started using mine but this too was now beginning to dim. When it finally reduced to a mere glimmer Michel turned his on.Â 

Â Â Â On and on we went, step after laborious step till we had no idea how far weâd gone. After about another two hours Michelâs torch finally gave out and now our only light came from our mobile phones but eventually the batteries in those died too. Fortunately, Jean wore a Corum divers watch which mercifully gave off a bluish hue when the adjust knob was pushed. Eventually, it was this, and only this, that we could use to check our progress along the way.

Â Â The tunnel seemed endless. It went on and on, but always at an almost imperceptible incline downwards. We couldnât see the top nor the sides now due to the lack of light but by the sound of our steps we knew it was a very large space we were in. The odd thing though was that the air seemed to be fairly clear and fresh, which none of us could quite understand, but it definitely helped.Â 

Â Â Â Only Jeanâs trusty watch gave us any idea of how long weâd been walking, and when he informed Michel and I that weâd been on our feet for almost eight hours we all agreed that weâd have to stop and rest. We were exhausted.Â 

Â Â Â Jean announced that based on our walking speed weâd probably covered somewhere in the region of thirty kilometers so far. Those words hung in the air like a nasty smell. If weâd travelled that far just how much farther would we have to go? Weâd brought all the food rations we could find in the underground chamber at Kfar-Hazir but they didnât amount to much and weâd already eaten more than half of them. All that was left was one unopened can of sardines and the remainder of the stale pitta bread which we decided to half ration between us.

Â Â Â Most worrying though was the fact that Michelâs water flask was nearly empty with not more than three mouthfuls of liquid left in it. Mine had maybe a couple of mouthfuls more than that and Jeanâs bottle was less than half full.

Â Â Â There was no indication that the tunnelâs end was near, or even that it actually did end at all. It was just total darkness in front and behind us. The thought of continuing on was daunting, the concept of going back pointless, so we agreed to try to get some sleep and recoup some energy for the next âdayâsâ hike into the unknown.

Â Â Â Attempting to fall asleep when your surroundings are pitch black is not as easy as you might think. Something about the lack of spacial awareness sends warning signals to the brain to stay alert. Adrenaline is pumped into the blood system and the slightest noise is magnified a hundred times. In conditions such as this hypertension easily manifests itself and for quite some time we just lay there, senses stretched to the limit; lost in an endless black void of uncertainty and trepidation.

Â Â Â The faint light from Michelâs watch was our only anchor point with reality. It was also our only gauge of the passing of the hours. The total darkness eradicated all concept of time.Â 

Â Â Â Jean woke first. He recalled checking the time and then checking it again, only this time it was nine hours later. He realised he must have nodded off at some point but couldnât recall when. When he roused Michel and I and tried to explain weâd slept for that long neither of us could believe it. I for one didnât feel at all refreshed. Allowing ourselves one small gulp of water and a few bites of the pitta bread each we staggered to our feet and set off down the inky black tunnel once more.Â 

Â Â Â For a further eight hours we walked, like mindless, blind zombies, onwards and ever downwards at a slight incline till we could finally go no further and had to stop and rest again.Â 

Â Â Â Jean had remained impassive throughout the ordeal but Michel was now inwardly beginning to panic. The lack of light, food and water was starting to have a severely adverse effect on him. I was suffering too but neither of us dare let on to the other. When we finally lay down on the hard, smooth surface of the tunnel to sleep again our morale was ebbing away. What the next âdayâ would bring, none of us knew.

Â Â Â Three hours into the next âdayâsâ walking saw the end of our meagre food rations and with only a mouthful of water left between us we were now all becomingÂ dehydrated. Signs of delirium were setting in. Our steps were becoming erratic and several times we stumbled and fell, mainly due to exhaustion. Then something changed. I noticed it first; a tiny pinprick of light that seemed to hover in the darkness, almost like a tiny star. At first I dismissed it as an illusion, but then Michel and Jean noticed it too. Either it actually was a light or we were all going mad.Â 

Â Â Â As we trudged onwards the tiny dot of light continued to hover there in the otherwise pitch black void as if it were some mirage devised to taunt us. There was definitely something there though, and it did appear to be growing in size.

Â Â Â On and on we went for what seemed hours. We were literally on our last legs now but the thought that there might actually be an end to this purgatory drove us forward. With superhuman resolve we forced our shattered, hungry and thirsty bodies to take one more step in front of the other, and slowly but surely the tiny dot of light began to grow larger. The ghostly silver speck of light now seemed to be flickering almost as if it really were a star.

Â Â Â Eventually, we came to realise that we were indeed coming to what must to be the end of this damnation of a tunnel, and spurred on by the concept that we might actually reach the end alive our pace quickened a little.Â 

Â Â Â Then I smelt it â water!

Â Â Â Several hundred metres further on, we stumbled out of the endless dark recesses of that fucking tunnel and were met by a sight that defied all belief. A huge reservoir of water as far as the eye could see stretched out before us, its blue/grey surface shimmering and twinkling like a million stars. But that wasnât all; to our right in the distance was a massive complex of what appeared to be ruined buildings nestled against the far shore. The strangest thing of all though was the light. None of us could work out where it was coming from. It just seemed to pervade the entire â¦ what was it actually â¦ the entire cavern. But what a cavern! It must have been about a quarter of a mile high and at least two miles across.

Â

To be continued .................................

This post was last modified: 22-03-2020, 12:11 PM by toddyboy.

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