Lift.

The lift shudders like an old man as it descends, the light from above slowly dwindles, and the metal door and fixtures vibrate with every inch moved.

With both arms held fast by strong hands Gestalt watches the steady stream of rock glide past the slow moving conveyance, between him and the wall Änderson smiles that benevolent grin, always its true intent hidden.

“You’re wondering how you can escape and warn your friends?” The words fall like autumn leaves from his moist lips, “Don’t you dare deny it Mr Gestalt!” smiling he continues, “You’re wondering how you can race back to the upper levels and free your comrades, then somehow find your way back to the volcano kingdom and warn your king of our plans.” Tutting through his lips he wavers a finger at Gestalt.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking Mr Änderson.”

“Oh I think I have a fair idea.” The elevator shudders and the cables twang as if being strum.

The two men stand facing each other, their eyes betraying their intent.  The hands holding Gestalt tighten as if the threat of escape has increased, the strength in each double that of Gestalt’s, calloused and frayed.

Evermore the lift drops, great veins of rock slide past. Rainbows of earth, red, yellow, blue, each a wave of solid earth.

Here and there Gestalt fancies he can see faces in the stone, the skeletal remains of lost beings, the hollow eyes looking deep into his soul. Each one but a glimpse displayed for a moment as the carrousel of stone moves past ever upwards.

“You know we’re below the streets of London?”

“I was aware of that sir.” Gestalt whispers pointedly back to his captor.

“Many hundred feet now.”

Nodding in agreement Gestalt continues to watch the cavalcade of rock.

“It would take man an age to drill this deep, in fact I hear they’re starting such a hole in northern Russia. Although it wont be recognised for many years, likely it’ll take that long to reach the mile or so they’re aiming for.”

“What are they drilling for?” Gestalt asks, showing sudden interest.

“Hell!” Änderson yells with a strangled laugh, his voice carrying up and down the colossal hole.

Gestalt looks at the man with puzzled eyes, “Hell?”

“A mythical afterlife for the damned, people like me and my friends. The Russians wont find hell, they’ll release a demon, but not from hell.” Bending forwards he looks down towards the floor, the grating gives them a clear view into the darkness below. “Hence their interest in our little venture.”

“My home isn’t a place for the damned Mr Änderson, its just another world.”

“Yes that’s it Gestalt, that’s it! The thing your world shares with the myth of hell is its strange and vicious wild life, apes, lizards, giants and beasts, all there for the taking, all there for the ruling.” He raises his hand into the air and suddenly closes it into a fist.

“And this is what your benefactors lust after, beasts?”

“What the beasts can achieve for them. You see my benefactors are very few in numbers, and although quite powerful they are unable to master this world alone. But the savages below,” he points to the floor, “in them they see a chance, they see a way to take this planet and use it for their own ends.”

“And you want to help them?” Gestalt says shaking his head. “Help them enslave my world to dominate your world? That’s madness.”

“Yes it is.” Änderson smiles back, “but there is some sort of sense to it you know.”

The lift clatters and groans as it merges over a protruding rock, the edge lights up with sparks, the blazing flair for moment lights up the faces, each one grins back at Gestalt.

Turning his head he looks to the floor, a pinprick of light glistens below. It grows slowly until eventually consuming the whole floor, and with that the lift shudders to a stop.

Behind Änderson a long tunnel extends, bore out of the earth the walls are smooth and moist with heat. Every ten feet electric lamps light the way, each globe encased in mesh.

Änderson takes Gestalt by the arm and the two goons automatically release him, stepping from the lift the floor squelches under foot, all of the wall moisture gathers on the floor to make thick slurry.

The two men walk the hall, their foot falls and the squelch of boots the only sound. Änderson draws Gestalt this way and that, some tunnels are man made, cut by hand, rough with gouge marks, and others look natural.

Caverns lost in time.

After several minutes of twists and turns they emerge into a smooth walled cave, roughly circular in shape, in the centre of the dome a single lantern lights the room. The light cast by the globe shimmers and wavers as the power fluctuates yet it never fails.

Opposite the entry a rectangular door, similar to what you may find in a bank vault, stands. Its face steel and marked with three dozen rivets around the periphery to strengthen its structure. In the centre of the door a single spoke wheel rests, roughly the diameter of a bicycle wheel but more robust.

“Now what you will see in here is our plan, in seeing this you are agreeing to never leave this structure.”

“I’ve never agreed to any of this sir, and you will not tell me what I can and can not do.”

“I think we already have my friend.” He says pushing a finger into the bandaged wound on Gestalt’s side, the fresh stab screams in agony, Gestalt grits his teeth and bears it with as much grace as he can.

Leaning forwards Änderson grips the large wheel and turns it around, seven rotations. On the final one a loud clunk echoes down the corridor, no doubt carried all the way to the top floors and the streets of London.

Änderson pulls the wheel and releases in a single movement, a smear of Gestalts blood stains the diameter.

As the door settles against the apposing side a blast of hot air throws the men’s hair backwards, and a blinding light fills Gestalt’s vision, ahead a massive cavern glows like the sun.

⚅⚀thoughts