Jack Aimes and the Serpent's Kiss

Interlude (Part 2)

Three Months Later

Observing the camp from the conning tower of the U-boat, Fischer wondered if his crew would ever leave this barren landscape that had become their world. Every two weeks, his submarine would head out to open water to rendezvous with a ship for resupply, only to once again return to ice that served as their base camp.

What are we doing here? he wondered. War is on the horizon. Yet, here I am tending to cultists instead of fortifying the waters outside our Fatherland?

The Fuhrer, Rosenberg, and yes, even Heinrich Himmler, had their heads filled with fantasies of Übermensch and the master race. Hitler and his Nazi party led them closer to global engagements. That was evident even to the blind. War Fischer understood he could see, smell, hear and touch it. The search for a mythical lost land in the middle of Antarctica bordered on lunacy.

"Bah," he spat. "I hope Weber and his team are swallowed up by the ice, and it will put an end to this madness."

He was about to re-enter his sub when a radio operator rushed over to Fischer nearly out of breath. The man, his skin as pale as the artic snow that surrounded them, took deep lungfuls of the frozen arctic air as his words tumbled out.

"The expedition team... There's been an accident sir."

"What kind of accident?"

"The ground gave way under Professor Weber," the radioman explained.

Perhaps there is a God, after all, the U-boat commander thought, grinning inwardly, before asking for more details.

***

Five Miles Outside of the Artic Basecamp

Across the harsh polar plateau, frigid winds blew up to 327 km/h, and it took a great deal of time to reach the expedition team. They found the crewmen that accompanied the cultists had already begun their rescue. On the far side of the opening in the ice, ropes wound through an improvised pulley built from sleds and the equipment they carried. When Fischer got closer, he leaned in and peered over the edge of the deep crevice in the Earth.

"What happened?" he called to his crewmen.

Kruger, her face completely swallowed by a woolly hood resembling that of a lion's mane, stepped beside him and grasped his arm. Even through his thick coat, he could feel the pressure of her grip.

"The professor went ahead to take a bearing reading when the ice cracked beneath him. He fell into the crevasse," she said, sounding more excited than worried.

Confused, Fischer stared down into the hole, seeing only darkness. Voices were rising up, though they sounded distant. He glanced back to Kruger. "Is he still alive?"

"Yes," she replied excitedly. "You must come and see for yourself." Without waiting, she rushed off.

Kapitänleutnant Fischer followed her around the ice to the makeshift contraption. His crew worked frantically, but it was not determination on their faces, but fear. Before he could inquire as to their reactions, Kruger once again gripped his arm.

She pulled him toward the hoist and stepped lithely onto a wooden platform that hung underneath, gesturing for him to follow. "This you must see for yourself."

Stalling his question for the time being, he gingerly stepped upon the suspended planks that dangled precariously over the edge of the ice. He firmly took hold of one of the ropes that maintained the sled in place.

As the Subcommander and his eager companion were lowered into the darkness, he saw one of his men making the sign of the crucifix. Fischer tried not to read anything into the crewman's actions, but between this and the overall looks of dread, he could not help but wonder what awaited him.

All he saw was darkness as they descended deeper, then suddenly lights from torches materialized, and hushed voices grew stronger. The platform had passed through the dome of an ice cavern, and the shadows from the torchlight grew and danced along the walls. The hoist had not been long enough to reach all the way to the bottom but ended at an outcropping. Testing the ground with a foot, he stepped off the sled and onto the icy ledge. He retrieved his electric torch and flashed it down to his feet. Fischer stood at the top of a flight of stairs carved into the ice wall.

"Impossible." His voice reverberated back to his ears.

Slowly, carefully, he followed the steps down, Kruger following directly behind. Soon, he could differentiate between the voices. Fuch barked orders, while Professor Weber spoke with the enthusiasm of a child, though his words were edged with pain, "The Fuhrer will be very pleased indeed."

Has Weber actually found Atlantis?

Fischer reached the last step and made his way to the others. Several times he nearly slipped on the ice, wondering if he would fall victim to the crevasse himself. He found his men working frantically.

"What is happening here," Fischer demanded.

"Very pleased indeed!" Professor Weber's voice boomed from a corner where the U-boat commander hadn't noticed him. The man rested on his back, his leg bound by a splint. The huge grin on his face nearly masked the signs of pain that etched his features. Staring up at something out of sight, Weber was oblivious to Fischer's arrival.

Following the curve of the wall deeper into another ice cave, he found what captivated the professor's attention. Fischer guided the torchlight up the length of the object. A gasp of horror escaped his mouth once he'd reached the top. A giant snake stood erect, frozen in mid-strike, fangs glistening, poised for the kill, holding him in rapt attention.

Breaking the trance, Fischer's gaze slowly traveled upward. In the snake's eye sockets were two shimmering large green emeralds that stared straight into the sub commander's very soul.