Карин Тидбек - Amatka

The tunnel smelled of cold earth and stale air. The walls absorbed the beams of their flashlights and the sound of their footsteps. After what felt like a long time, something in the distance reflected the light: a plain door with a handle. Vanja grasped the handle and cautiously pushed it down. The door opened inward with a low creak. On the other side the darkness was virtually solid. Behind her, Evgen’s breathing was rapid and shallow. Vanja realized she’d been holding her breath. “Can you see anything?” Evgen whispered.

Vanja shone her flashlight into the murk. A broad staircase led downward, rough-hewn steps covered in a layer of dust. Vanja descended, keeping her beam of light fixed on the steps.

Behind her, Evgen shone his flashlight upward. “I can’t see the ceiling.”

He was right, the ceiling was out of sight. It either absorbed the light completely or was beyond the reach of their feeble beams. The echo of their footfalls was faint and scattered. The air gradually became warmer.

Vanja halted. She should have noticed earlier. “There are no footprints.”

Evgen stopped next to her. “There are no footprints on the stairs,” she repeated. “Ivar said he climbed a staircase. But there’s no trace of him here.”

“Maybe he came from the other direction. Maybe we should have walked the other way when we came down the ladder.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. It leads away from Amatka.”

“If you got the direction right, sure. And if the tunnel is completely straight.”

Vanja clenched her teeth. “Just a little farther. We can always turn back.”

The staircase ended in another door. When Vanja pushed the handle down, it opened outward with a groan. Judging from the echo, they were now standing in a very large space. Something was dripping in the darkness.

Vanja shone her flashlight on the floor. “How far did we walk, d’you think?”

“We could very well be underneath Amatka now,” Evgen replied. “We would be under the mushroom farms, in that case. It smells… it smells like metal in here.”

He made a small sound of surprise. The room grew darker. “Turn off your flashlight, Vanja.”

“Why?”

“I want to try something. Turn off your flashlight.”

Darkness rushed in. Vanja fumbled for Evgen, got hold of a corner of his coat, and hung on to it. A tug at her anorak told her he’d done the same. Then she realized that the darkness wasn’t complete. A greenish glow emanated from the walls, brightening as they watched. Silhouettes emerged.

Beside her, Evgen let out a laugh. “Gleam lichen. I thought I saw something.”

They were standing in a large chamber. In the middle of the floor sat a huge contraption, partly covered in the luminescent lichen. It looked at once both mechanical and organic, its details distinct from one another but with rounded edges and surfaces that seemed to have pores. Vanja could make out what looked like pistons, plungers, vents, an enormous cylinder. High above their heads, sheathed in the soft light, rose the arch of a spoked wheel whose highest point seemed to have merged with the ceiling.

“It’s a machine.” Saying it sent a chill down Vanja’s spine.

Vanja and Evgen walked a full lap around it. Liquid bled from the ceiling and dripped onto it, settling in hard patches that choked the organism growing on the surface.

“Once when I was a boy, we went to Essre,” Evgen said. “We visited the Pioneer Museum. They had a steam-powered machine there, a small one. Someone had brought it from the old world. It looked a bit like this.” Evgen gestured at the wheel looming above them. “The wheel went round and round. Have you seen it?”

Vanja nodded. “Once. Then they removed it.”

“Did Ivar say anything about a machine?”

“No,” Vanja said. “I wonder if we went the wrong way. Or if it wasn’t here before.”

Evgen shone his flashlight at the walls. “I wonder if there are more exits.”

Vanja took a mitten off and ran her hand over the machine’s hull. It gave off a slight vibration at her touch. “That little machine in Essre was supposed to power other machines. I wonder what this one is for.”

“I don’t like this place,” Evgen said. “We should get out of here.”

There was a circular plaque on the cylinder’s hull. It reminded Vanja of a clock, but the symbols inscribed on the face looked unfamiliar. She tried to make out the symbols, but they kept drifting out of focus; she could almost read them, but not quite. If she could just concentrate for a moment.

“Vanja!” Evgen said it loudly, right behind her. She realized he’d called her name several times. “Can’t you hear me?” His voice was thin. “I can’t find the door.”

Vanja straightened reluctantly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I can’t find the door.”

His face appeared next to hers, eyes wide between the hat and his dewy beard. Vanja took her hand off the machine and turned on her flashlight. She aimed it at the wall but couldn’t see anything at this distance. She glanced at Evgen, who looked back at her. They slowly walked over to the spot where the door should be. The wall was unbroken and black.

“Let’s follow the wall,” Vanja said. “We just missed it.”

They followed the gentle curve of the wall. After a while, Vanja spotted tracks in the dust in front of them: two pairs of footprints, starting at the wall and leading to the center of the room. Another set of footprints returned from the center. No door. She stopped short. Next to her, Evgen grabbed her hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt. The pain cleared her head.

Vanja took a deep breath. “The door is here somewhere. We’re just a little scared and confused.” She squeezed Evgen’s hand back. “Aren’t we, Evgen?”

“Yes.” Evgen’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Vanja spoke more loudly. “The door is exactly where we last saw it. The door is still there.”

“The door is still there.”

“Do you remember what it looks like?” Vanja said. “It opens into the chamber, I remember that.”

“It’s gray. And has a plain handle.”

They continued around the room. The colossus in the middle of the chamber constituted a very insistent presence.

Evgen clutched Vanja’s hand even tighter. “How many hinges does the door have?”

“Two hinges,” Vanja said. “And it’s a matte gray. Not shiny.”

Further ahead, Vanja could see their footprints again, the ones leading toward the machine. And there, in the wall, where the footprints started: the door. She let out a long breath.

Evgen pushed the door open with a faint squeak. On the other side, the broad staircase rose up into the darkness. He rushed upstairs, two steps at a time. Vanja took one last look over her shoulder. It was as if the machine made a noise, a note so deep she could only feel it as a vibration in the pit of her stomach.

The steps felt much higher than when they had descended. Vanja’s thigh muscles burned every time she heaved herself upward. It was with relief she saw the door at the top of the stairs—both because she’d reached the top and because the door was still there. Evgen leaned on the door and pushed it open. They jogged down the tunnel, Evgen’s breath like tortured groans behind her.

Finally, a row of rungs broke the smooth wall. Vanja clambered up the ladder, almost slipping a few times. Cold, fresh air was blowing down the shaft. No light made it this far down, but she could hear the wind whistle across the opening. When she finally made it up, she heaved herself over the edge, fell down on the grass, and stayed there. Evgen collapsed on the ground next to her. They lay like that, staring up into the night sky, until they could breathe again. Eventually, Vanja stood up on unsteady legs. Evgen held out a hand, and she helped him up. Amatka’s lights gleamed on the horizon. They started walking.