Prologue…

The first sign that something wasn’t quite right came a few days before Christmas, sometime around the 22^nd if memory serves me. Most of the scientists and their families had already left for the holidays. Winter came early to Illinois. Frost whitened the landscape long before the sounds of “Trick or Treat” echoed throughout the countryside. In a cluster of brightly colored buildings, more reminiscent of Disneyland than that of the world’s center for particle physics, a most astonishing discovery was about to take place. Questions that had eluded theologians and theoreticians alike were about to be resolved.

This discovery might just as easily have been made at Cal-Tech, or Stanford, or any of the prestigious European Universities. The Japanese had been at the forefront for years. The Russians too were searching for the Rosetta Stone, the skeleton key that would unlock the secrets of creation- secrets that until now had belonged to the Almighty alone. Even so, it seemed almost predestined that this discovery would take place in the United States. After all, the world’s most powerful proton accelerator, Fermilab’s super-conducting synchrotron, was located there. Nicknamed the Tevatron; from deep within its womb the key that would unlock the secrets of the universe was patiently being forged.

Prominent scientists in the fields of quantum mechanics and cosmology had been coaxed from their respective universities to work solely on this project. They came from all over: Steven Tyco from the CERN Laboratory for Particle Physics near Geneva, Maxwell Bruiner from the DESY Institute in Hamburg, William Scott from the “Brain Trust” at Stanford’s Linear Accelerator in Palo Alto. Even Professor Yamamoto, now in his 80’s, the founder of Japan's famed Fifth Generation AI Lab, had seen fit to join this hallowed assemblage. After years of research and over a billion dollars in funding, the triumph these men so diligently sought was finally at hand.

Why was Tim Collins associated with such intellectual giants? Probably because his article “In Search of the Illusive Monopole” had won last years coveted Pillanger award. Nova’s turning it into a PBS documentary hadn’t hurt either. In any event, as the science editor for Future Technology magazine, it was going to be his job to chronicle the discoveries taking place at Fermilab as they unfolded. He would bear witness to nature’s hidden wonders, observing the obliteration of protons, as they smashed into their component particles- quarks, gluons, tops, bottoms, color, charm, spin and all the other yet to be discovered particles- born of massive collisions at relativistic speeds, swimming in fields of synchrotron radiation. He would record the merging of new technologies, the marriage of matter and anti-matter, the quest that would lead to the conformation of the Theory of Super-symmetry and the key to creation. Like a scribe in the days of the ancient Pharaohs, he would chronicle events whose shear prominence would carry them forward into the new millennium.

At least that was his intention. Had he had any idea of what really lay ahead of him, he would have run as far and as fast as his spindly legs could have carried him. Never looking back. Never stopping to catch his breath. Never once turning his head to chance a glimpse of whatever it was that was making those God-awful moaning sounds behind him. And when he could run no more, he’d walk. When he could walk no farther, he’d crawl. If nothing else, he’d just fall forward. Anything that would put one more inch between him and images that would dwell in his mind and haunt his memory forever.

Truly, the light of discovery was burning brightly at Fermilab, but some things are better left in darkness. Some doors should never be opened; they should be bolted shut, forever! That giant accelerator not only unlocked the secrets of matter and energy, it punched a hole through the very fabric of space and time. What emerged from that hole was not of this world, maybe not even of this universe.

The trouble with having a skeleton key is that you can never be sure of what’s standing behind the door it unlocks. And as that door creeps open, you may just find that no matter how hard you push, something on the other side pushes back- just a little bit harder. And there’s nothing you can do to close it again…

Here then are the events as they unfolded, as Tim Collins recorded them, before the demons were unleashed and the darkness fell…

1^st Corinthians 1:19 “For it is written. I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and will bring to nothing the understanding of the prudent.”

In this chapter, Bill (who loves to fish) has caught a very strange looking fish and neither he nor any of his friends at Fermilab can identify it. So he decides to drive into Chicago to see if someone at the Shedd Aquarium can tell him what it is….

Chapter #2 FISHING for Employees Only

By noon, Bill’s curiosity was getting the better of him. He decided he might as well drive on into Chicago and meet with the people at the aquarium. He couldn’t keep his mind on what he was working on anyway. One nice thing about being a big shot is that you can pretty well come and go as you please. His secretary even knew the name of the aquarium. She has a cousin that works there. He had her make a phone call and was immediately given an appointment for three o’clock that afternoon. That’s perfect, he thought; with any luck, I’ll be there and gone before the evening rush-hour traffic and still have time to explore some of the exhibits. Bill had never been to the Shedd Aquarium even though it was virtually next door to the Adler Planetarium, which he’d visited on several occasions. As he was leaving, he ran into Tim again, “I couldn’t wait any longer; I made a three o’clock appointment at that aquarium with a…Connie Baker.” Anxiously, he sorted through the jumble of papers he had wadded up in his pocket. Finding the one his secretary had written his appointment on, he reiterated, “Yes, here it is; Dr. Connie L. Baker, G.O.A. Marine Biologist. Probably a hotshot young lady just out of college getting some experience in the real world. Just as long as she knows her stuff, or can look it up. That’s all I care about. Say, what have you got going on this afternoon?”

“Not much, I’m pretty well caught up on my duties here. I was halfway thinking about revising an article I’ve been working on…but I’m not much in the work mood right now. How about this- Let’s get your fish ID’d, and then we go chow down on some Chinese cuisine at the Baby Panda. If we have time, maybe we can take in some of Chicago’s nightlife?”

“You’re on for the first two, but I need to get back here no later than seven o’clock. Tyco’s group is bringing the Tevatron up to 90% of full power tonight. I’d like to be there when they do. I missed last week’s test. They might even try for full power if everything goes alright.”

“Damn, I almost forgot. I want to be there too. Covering these tests is part of my job, especially a major test like this one. That’s why I get the big bucks!”

“I don’t want to miss any more tests either. We’re getting to the point now where we could start seeing new things show up on the detector. We’ve been testing for months but only the last three have been at powers of over 75%.” As they talked, they walked over to Bill’s car. “I’d better check on the ice,” Bill said, as he stowed his briefcase and jacket in the back seat. “Don’t want a bunch of cats climbing around on my trunk.” He hit the button between the seats and the trunk popped open. Removing the lid, he found the ice had barely melted. Polypropylene, what would we do without it?

“Well, Mr. Big Bucks, are you coming along for the ride?”

“Sure, why not? Be with you in a minute.”

It was almost two by the time they gassed up and pulled Bill’s Chevy onto I-88 heading towards Chicago. It was Interstate all the way once they left Batavia. They took the toll roads as they neared the suburbs but traffic was light. They were both glad to be getting out of the sticks for awhile and Chicago was about as far out of the sticks as you could get. The aquarium was located on McFetridge Drive, just off Lake Shore Drive. Bill was right in his assessment about getting there at three o’clock. It was late enough to miss the lunch hour traffic and too early to hit the evening's. They pulled into the aquarium’s parking lot with about twenty minutes to spare. The cooler was quite heavy between the ice and the fish so they both took hold of a handle and shared the chore of getting it to their destination. Once inside they asked a guard where they could find Dr. Baker’s office. He told them to take the elevator to the second floor, turn left, and it would be the second door on the right.

As they peered into the office they saw a smartly dressed young woman sitting at a mahogany desk piled with papers of every size and description. Bill winked at Jim and whispered under his breath, “What did I tell you!” He knocked on the sill as they entered, “Dr. Baker, I presume?” Looking up, she smiled warmly, “No, I’m sorry, I’m afraid Dr. Baker’s running a little late. I’m Caroline Tanner. You must be the gentleman from Fermilab? Dr. Baker asked me to make you comfortable until she gets here. I might be able to help you while we’re waiting. I’m assisting Dr. Baker in classifying new additions to the aquarium. Your specimen, it’s a fresh water variety, is it not?”

Bill was disappointed that he had been shuffled off on an undergraduate. He was used to talking with the head honcho. But after all, this wasn’t brain surgery; he just wanted to find out what he had caught and get out of here before the rush-hour traffic began. “Yes, I caught it in the lake at Fermilab about eight o’clock this morning. None of us have ever seen a fish like it and we were curious as to what it might be. That’s how we ended up here.”

“Let me have a look; I’m familiar with most of the species native to this part of the country.” As Bill opened the cooler, Tim watched the young girl’s face closely. He wanted to see if she would register any reaction or surprise when she saw what they had nicknamed, “Fessie.”

“Mercy!” she said, definitely surprised. “Are you quite sure you caught it here? It looks more like something that came from the ocean, possibly a Gymnothorax Javanicus.”

Not being used to having his word questioned, Bill straightened up and asked rather sternly, “When do you think Dr. Baker will be back, Miss Tanner?” Sensing the sharp tone of his voice, Caroline realized she’d made a mistake by asking such a doubting question. Now was the time for her best smile, “I’m sorry, Mr. Scott. I didn’t mean to question you like that. It’s just that- I’m completely taken aback by what you’ve brought in. Actually, Dr. Baker was hoping that I would be able to identify your fish and send you on your way without her having to change her busy schedule. But I think she’ll want to see this. I’ll have her here in a few minutes.” With that, she picked up the phone and dialed the number to Dr. Baker’s other office. “Dr. Baker, the two gentlemen from Fermilab are here with a rather unique specimen. Could you please help me in identifying it? Yes, that would be fine. We’ll be right down.”

“Down?” Tim said.

“Yes, Dr. Baker is on one of the lower levels. We have five levels here in the aquarium. The main floor where you entered the building is the only area open to the public. All of our displays are located there. The heart of the aquarium is our display area. We have over 3,500 different species of fish and other exotic marine creatures behind the glass partitions. The lower levels house the things needed to keep the aquarium running…maintenance, acquisitions, security, print shop etc. This level contains mostly administrative offices. We also have a top-notch oceanographic research department of which Dr. Baker is in charge. She’s waiting for us in the large examining room now. If you’ll follow me, we’ll take the service elevator.”

In a matter of minutes, they were standing before what looked to be a large metal garage door. Caroline pressed a lighted green button on the side of the wall and the door silently began to rise. She wasn’t kidding when she said large examining room. The room appeared to be at least forty feet wide by sixty feet long. In the center was a stainless steel platform big enough to hold an elephant. Surgical lights hung overhead on moveable gurneys. There were racks of electronic equipment lining the walls and a bank of video monitors all displaying the same message, “OFF LINE.” The place was spotless. If not for the platform and the over-all size of the room, they could well have been in one of the, “Detection Chambers” back at Fermilab.

“We perform surgery here on creatures as large as killer whales,” a voice said from far off to their left. A little startled, they turned just in time to see the speaker picking up a new pair of surgical gloves. She was dressed in a Doctor’s gown that had what looked to be blood splashed in a narrow arc over her right forearm and upper shoulder. “I’m Dr. Baker, I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you earlier. I thought I’d be finished with my surgical duties long before three o’clock, but I had a few more problems than I’d counted on.”

After introducing everyone, Miss Tanner suggested that they set the cooler on the operating table where they would have plenty of room to examine the creature in detail. Upon opening the lid, Dr. Baker exclaimed, “Oh, my! This is not what I expected at all.” She gently picked up the specimen, laying it fully outstretched on the steel table. “Be careful of the treble hooks,” Bill said. “I couldn’t get them out of its mouth so I just left them there, lure and all.” With a puzzled look on her face, Dr. Baker turned to Bill, “What treble hooks are you talking about?”

Bill was standing a few feet away and couldn’t get a good look at the fish’s head. As he moved closer, he could see that there was no Bomber attached to the fish now. “Well, I’ll be damned! I know it was there this morning.” He looked in the cooler and there, mixed in with the remaining ice, was what was left of his lure. He reached in and retrieved the remains of his Bomber. About a third of it was missing. His first thought was that it had somehow melted. The back part of the lure including the treble hooks was missing. The lure was made of plastic and the hooks were stainless steel. The more he studied it, the more amazed he became. As he ran his finger over the end of the lure, he realized it didn’t look melted after all, it looked- dissolved. As if someone had dipped it in some kind of acid. The whole back section of his lure, hooks and all was just...gone. He handed what was left of it to Tim. “Well buddy, what do you think of this?” Tim, dumbfounded, just stared.

Dr. Baker looked baffled as she examined the specimen. Turning it from side to side, she’d prod and poke, jot down a few lines in her notebook, and then start the whole process over again. After about ten minutes of this she stopped. “Gentlemen, please don’t think me rude, but as I don’t really know you, or if what you’re telling me is true…can I see some identification please?”

Normally, Bill would have been offended by that request, but under the circumstances he didn’t mind at all. He showed her his Fermilab identification and driver’s license. When Tim handed her his press card, she visibly grimaced. “I feel like a fool; I should have recognized your face right away Mr. Collins. I’ve subscribed to Future Technology for years. You look just like your picture. I’m sorry for the formalities gentlemen, but I thought some of my colleagues might be trying to play a practical joke on me. Caroline, would you mind getting my dissecting kit for me please? I don’t know what this thing is yet, but I can tell you a few things about it. Do you see that gray fleshy object at the back of its mouth? It looks like a tongue doesn’t it? It’s not. I think it’s part of the stomach. I’ll tell you for sure when I open it up. With your permission of course, Mr. Scott.”

“You’re the expert; go for it.”

Miss Tanner handed Dr. Baker the scalpel.

“Damn, this is like cutting leather with a plastic spoon. Caroline, there’s a bone-knife in D21- would you mind?”

“Of course not Doctor, I’ll be right back.”

Trying to get a better view of what he had thought was the tongue; Jim pried the fish’s mouth open with his index finger. Quickly pushing his hand away, Dr. Baker exclaimed, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Jim about jumped out of his shoes. “Why not?” he asked, looking at his finger as if he’d just been bitten.

Dr. Baker opened the mouth a little wider with her pencil, “I was just thinking about that fishing lure. Mr. Collins might be right about the acid. Something dissolved that lure, hooks and all. Unless you’re carrying hydrochloric acid around in your cooler, whatever dissolved that lure must have come from inside this fish.”

“Here’s the bone-knife Doctor; I’ll plug it in.” The bone-knife was normally used to cut through bone and cartilage, but it would work equally well on the tough outer hide lying before them. “This is absolutely amazing!” Dr. Baker said, as she peered into the unfamiliar insides of the specimen before her. “I can hardly believe what I’m seeing! Caroline, get the camera. I want to document all of this.” With that she laid open the specimen’s carcass splitting it right down the middle.

“Well, what’s the verdict Doc?” Bill asked, looking over her shoulder.

“To start with, it’s not all here,” Dr. Baker replied. “Most of the organs are missing. There’s no heart, bladder or kidneys. The only thing I recognize is the air sack, and it’s ruptured. The air sack has expanded so much; it must have pushed the vital organs out of the mouth. It is a fish however. But it’s not like any of the fish we have around here. I’ve seen air sacks rupture like this before. When I was an undergraduate at USC, I worked one summer on the, ‘USS Trident.’ The Trident is a deep-sea research vessel. We were investigating the marine life along the edge of the continental shelf, about 60 miles off the coast of California. We used to drag nets along the ocean bottom to capture marine life. The only problem was, as the nets were pulled to the surface, the fish they had snagged were usually dead when we retrieved them. On dissection, we found they all had one thing in common. Their air sacks had ruptured. The sacks act like a float valve. The more air in the sack, the higher the fish rises in the water. It’s similar to ballast in a submarine. As a fish rises to the surface, the pressure diminishes and the sack expands. If it rises too quickly, the sack can literally explode. This rarely happens in nature. Deep-sea divers have a similar problem with nitrogen expansion in the blood. We know it as, “the bends.”

“Are you trying to tell us that this thing died from a change in pressure?”

“Yes, I’m almost sure of it.”

“How deep would this fish have had to have been in order to experience this kind of pressure change?”

“It’s hard to say for sure, but I’d guess somewhere in the neighborhood of eight to nine hundred fathoms would do it.”

“In English Doctor.”

“One mile, maybe more!”

“Dr. Baker, are you trying to tell me that there is a hole in the lake that I’ve been fishing for almost four years, that’s a mile deep? A lake where I’ve never found a spot deeper than ten feet! A small lake that’s not much bigger than a large pond. Have you lost your mind?” Bill was quickly getting perturbed at all this nonsense.

“No, Mr. Scott, I didn’t say anything about your lake in particular. What I’m saying is this…what we have here is a fish of unknown origin, a fish that lives at great depths and pressures and a fish that probably died from a quick change in that pressure. Caroline, would you douse the lights for me.”

“What are you going to do now, show us some home movies of Sea Hunt,” Bill snipped. “I really don’t think we have time for-” as the lights went out, he stopped short.

“Do you see that, Mr. Scott? Almost all the creatures that inhabit the deep oceans have one thing in common. Because of the absence of light at those depths, they are luminescent, they glow.” Sure enough, coming from the table was an eerie glow that resembled the luminous hands on a day-glow watch, though the dimples that were scattered about the fish’s body were many times brighter. They glowed brightly like tiny yellow LED’s.

“Well I’ll be damn. If I hadn’t seen this with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believed it! How could something like this get into the lake at Fermilab?”

“I assure you I haven’t the foggiest idea. And as to what kind of fish it is- I just don’t know. The texture of the skin, the lack of internal organs…there doesn’t seem to be any skeletal structure either, although that’s not necessarily unusual in deep-sea creatures. All these things together add up to one big question mark.”

As Caroline turned the lights back on, Bill looked at his watch. “Four thirty, we’ve got to get back to the lab.”

“Would you allow me to keep the fish here, Mr. Scott? I’d like to run some tests on the tissues. Get a DNA sample. I’m sure that either myself, or one of my colleagues will be able to identify it pretty quickly. If not, I’ll send a picture and description of it to the Woods Hole Oceanographic Research Center. I’m sure somebody there will be able to identify it.”

“Only if you’ll promise to call me as soon as you know anything else about it, anything at all.” With that they exchanged phone numbers, Bill and Tim looking more puzzled than ever. It had been a long day already, and they still had the sequencing test of the Tevatron to look forward to. It promised to be a long night as well.

This next section jumps to chapter 14 where Bill and Caroline get together one morning so that Bill can show her where he caught the strange fish…

Chapter 14 - The Lake

Bill had risen early in order to get the boat and gear ready for the morning’s fishing expedition. He’d loaded his fishing gear into the boat the previous night and hooked up the battery charger. He felt sure that everything had survived the winter though with no problems. The sun was just beginning to rise above the tree line as he backed his Suburban into one of the storage sheds. While fumbling with the trailer’s hitch; he noticed that the trolling motor battery wasn’t fully charged. The charging gauge was still showing two amps. This meant that the battery was close, but not fully charged though this shouldn’t be a problem as they wouldn’t be using it all day today anyway. This trip was just to collect some water samples and see if they could catch a fish or two. A few hours were all they’d need.

One thing he did want to do though was to double-check his depth finder. This was the one item he knew Dr. Baker would be interested in, though he expected her to be disappointed with the outcome. He was sure she suspected to find a bottomless pit while he’d be amazed if they found anything over ten feet. Then again, who could blame her? What he’d brought into the aquarium could hardly have come from a shallow lake in the Midwest, yet it had. The problem was, he’d been over every inch of this lake during the last four years and the deepest spot he’d ever found was just a shade over ten feet. She would soon see first hand that this lake was just like any of the thousands of other lakes in Northern Illinois.

He decided it might be a good idea to bring along a paddle- just in case. If the battery did die, he didn’t want to be setting in the middle of the lake with no way to get to shore. Better safe that sorry. Next, he temporarily hooked up the trolling motor and depth finder. The lights on the finder came on and the propeller turned so they seemed to be fine. He unhooked them. The life preservers and compressed air horn (why the state requires a horn on a 14 foot Jon boat was beyond him) were next on his list. Once he had everything loaded, he dropped the trailer’s tongue over the Suburban’s hitch, fastened the safety clasp, and was ready to go. The boat launch was about a quarter mile away. When he got there, Dr. Baker was already throwing casts from the shore.

“You’re up early,” he called out, as he backed the boat down the ramp. “How long have you been here?”

“I just got here a few minutes ago. This is only my fourth cast.”

“What type of lure are you using? I caught Fessie on a Bomber. It’s a deep-“

“I know what it is…I saw it, remember? Besides, I’ve been using Bombers, Hot-N-Tots and other deep diving lures for years. I am surprised that these fish will hit a fast moving crank bait this early in the year though.”

“Crap,” Bill thought, so much for the macho fisherman. She’s a marine biologist; she’s probably caught more fish than I’ll ever think about catching. “Have you tried a Devils Horse,” he called out.

“What’s a Devils Horse?”

Smiling, Bill thought to himself, “There may be hope for me yet!”

After launching the boat, Bill parked the suburban and came back with a small covered basket.

“Is that lunch or breakfast?” Dr. Baker asked.

“Neither I’m afraid,” I always keep my cell phone, billfold, sun block, etc. in here. But I did pack a snack or two, just in case.”

Bill climbed into the back of the boat. Dr. Baker would have to push them off because he would be running the trolling motor. The rear of the boat needed to stay in the deeper water so the prop wouldn’t drag bottom. She pushed the small boat off of the ramp and jumped into the bow all in one fluid motion, barely making a ripple on the water. It was obvious that she knew her way around a boat launch.

The water was still cool. The air temperature was a chilly 70 degrees but climbing quickly. Bill doubted that the water temperature was into the 60s yet. And though it might be cold, it was clear as glass. When the sun rose to its highest point, you would be able to see the bottom in many places. Bill maneuvered the boat out towards the middle of the lake.

“Are you familiar with this type of depth finder?” he asked.

“It looks like a Lowrance. What’s its range?”

“There are three settings, 25, 100 and 300 feet. I rarely use the deeper settings. I’ve only used the 300-foot setting once when I was fishing Kentucky Lake above the damn. I keep it on the lowest setting here. It’s reading a tad over five feet right now. See the little blips between the top line and the bottom?

“Yes” Dr. Baker said, as she scooted towards the back end of the boat so that she could get a better look at the finder’s display.

“I’m sure you know all about depth finders but this one is pretty new and it might be a little different than what you’re used to. The bottom line represents the lake bottom. The top one represents the surface. For the most part it will stay between the five and six foot mark while we’re in this close to the shore. Those blips that pop into view every so often between the two lines are fish. As a general rule, the bigger the blip, the bigger the fish. This particular unit sends out acoustic waves in a cone shape with the point of the cone located here at the bottom of the transducer. (With that, Bill pulled up the transducer mounting. It was on a swiveling rod that could be lowered in or out of the water by hand. As he did so, the depth sounder’s display went crazy and showed all kinds of blips. Then it went blank.

“How big of an area does the cone cover on the bottom of the lake?”

“Well, I’d have to consult the manual to be sure, but I think it has a cone size of about ten feet at the twenty five foot depth. So I’d guess that at this lakes deepest point of about ten feet, the cone would be about two feet wide. I caught a five pound catfish once and I let him swim around below the boat to see what size blip he made. He was about six feet down and made a blip on the screen almost an inch long. I pulled him up until he was just a few feet under the boat and the blip almost covered the whole screen. It’s pretty hard to tell how big a fish is when it’s close to the transponder.”

“Where were you when you caught the thing you brought into the aquarium?”

“I was on the other side of the lake, near Wilson Hall. I was fishing from the shore though so I couldn’t have been in very deep water. Watch the depth display and we’ll cruise around the lake a while before we go over there.”

Bill made a cast with another one of his Bombers, wedged the fishing pole between the transom and a brace holding the trolling motor, flipped the switch to the #3 position and started trolling. The depth finder never varied more than a few feet in depth as the pulled out farther into the lake. It approached nine feet at one spot, but quickly came back to the eight-foot level. They trolled for about fifteen minutes zigzagging as they went. Bill wanted to cover as much of the lake’s bottom with the sounder as he could, so that Dr. Baker would realize just how shallow the lake really is.

“Here, let me show you something that’s pretty neat about this finder.”

With that, he reeled in his lure, stowed his fishing pole and turned the switch on the trolling motor to the, “off” position.

“Keep your eyes on the display” he said, as he fiddled with the rod holding the transponder. The rod had a lever at the top. He pulled the lever to the 45 degree position and several new blips appeared on the display. Then he changed the finder’s depth setting to the maximum of 300 feet. At this point, dozens of blips appeared on the display.

“What did you do?” asked Dr. Baker, trying to figure out what was going on.

“The transponder is mounted on a holder that allows me to aim it at any angle. By lifting the lever on the transponder’s mounting, I turned the direction of the acoustic cone to a horizontal position. Then I set the power to maximum. What you’re seeing now are the blips caused by echoes from fish up to 300 feet away. I have the transponder aimed in the direction of that large tree over on the other side of the lake. By swiveling the control rod, I can look for concentrations of fish in any direction. Any big blips, especially those in the farthest depth positions, are BIG fish. Look, there’s a pretty good size one now out about 80 feet.”

“That is a nice feature; I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone do that with a sounder this small before. I’ve used side-scanning radar when looking for anomalies on the ocean bottom many times. I remember finding the wreck of a Spanish galleon off the coast of Venezuela a few years ago using a similar technique.”

With that, Bill switched the transponder back to a vertical position and reduced the power back to its lowest setting of 25 feet. “Eight feet as usual,” he announced.

As they trolled out to the middle of the lake, Bill noticed a slight change in the color of the water. It reminded him of the way water looks when a drop of oil is mixed into it. It took on a shinny rainbow appearance.

“I brought several plastic jars to collect water samples in. Let’s stop here for a minute; I’d like to get a sample of this water. It looks like it’s contaminated with something.”

“Sure,” Bill replied. “While you’re getting your sample I’m going to make a few casts.”

But before Bill could make his first cast, the finder’s alarm went off.

“What the…” Bill said, as he stared at the depth finder’s display. “This doesn’t happen very often and never this early in the year.” But almost as soon as the alarm sounded, it stopped.

“What is it, what brought on the alarm?”

“Well, for a moment there, the finder was reading a depth greater than its selected range. When that happens, an alarm goes off. Then, as we coasted a little farther, it came back to the usual eight foot level and the alarm turned off.”

“That may be the hole we are looking for.”

“I doubt it.” Bill said, suppressing a laugh. “What probably happened is that we passed over something that’s a poor reflector of the finder’s acoustic signals. So the finder doesn’t get a return echo, thinks the bottom is out of range, and sounds the alarm. It was most likely a patch of moss. I’ve seen this happen a lot in lakes father south, especially in the summer months. Moss usually doesn’t grow much up here though; it’s just to cold. Let me back the boat up and I’ll see if I can find it again.”

Bill put the trolling motor into reverse and retraced their path through the water. Sure enough, they’d just backed up a few feet when the alarm went off again. Then, before he could bring the boat to a full stop, silence.

“That’s got to be moss! It’s soft and slimy and doesn’t reflect sound waves worth a damn.”

“I’ve got my sample, let’s go on to where you caught your fish and do some fishing.”

“Ok, we’re off. Go ahead and cast out to your right and I’ll cast to my left. We may as well troll on the way over there. We might hook into something out here in the middle.”

Again, Bill turned the trolling motor to the #3 position. This was about as fast as a brisk walk. The battery didn’t seem to be down at all. He figured they could run at this speed all day if they wanted too. It was the #5 position that really zapped the power.

They had only gone about a 100 yards when the alarm went off for a second time. This time things were different. The alarm stayed on. Bill again brought the boat to a standstill. The alarm blared.

“It’s hard to believe that there could be this much moss on the lake bottom so early in the year. Let me crank up the power and see if that won’t find the bottom. Even if only a small part of the signal gets back, it will at least shut the alarm off.”

So he clicked the switch to the 100-foot level. The alarm still blared.

“Ok, I give up. I could get a reading off of a piece of carpet at 8 feet at full power, so here goes.”

The second he flipped the switch to the 300-foot setting, the alarm fell silent.

“That must have done it, I don’t hear that raucous noise anymore,” Dr. Baker said.

“You’re not going to believe this but I’m still not showing any bottom. It’s still flashing, OUT OF RANGE.”

“But the alarm went off.”

“There is no alarm on the 300-foot setting. Otherwise, it would never shut off when you were using it in the ocean or somewhere where there’s a lot of deep water such as around the damn at Lake Barkley. What I don’t understand is…where the hell is the bottom?”

Then all at once, there it was. But on this scale (300 feet) the space between the surface marker and bottom marker was hardly readable.

“Now wait just a cotton pickin minute. Something’s screwy here.”

Then he realized that while they had been talking, and he’d been fiddling with the depth finder, the boat had drifted about thirty feet in the slight morning breeze. He put the trolling motor into reverse and slowly started backtracking.

Sure enough, the finder’s display flashed the, OUT OF RANGE message again. But this time, there was more. This time, he could see other blips, some big, some small, dozens of them. Hundreds maybe? It was hard to tell. And these blips were mostly very deep. Starting at the 125 foot level and going on down until they were, “out of range.”

“This can’t be right. I must be picking up some kind of temperature inversion. That’s got to be it. This time of year, the water on the bottom of the lake is a lot colder than water near the surface; the finder must be picking up a thermo cline.”

“Well there’s an easy way to find out.” Dr. Baker said, bringing Bill back to the present.

He’d been so enthralled with the mystery provided by his depth finder that he’d completely forgot she was with him.

“Sorry,” he said. “I got carried away. What are you going to do?”

With that, she opened her tackle box and brought out what looked like a jumbo red sinker. And this in fact, was what it was. It weighed eight ounces, which is huge for a sinker! Then she picked up a fishing pole that looked like it might once have belonged to Billy Barty. The pole was only two feet long but the reel could have been made for catching sharks. It looked enormous on that tiny pole.

“That,” Bill said, “looks like the kind of equipment they use to catch giant catfish below the damn on Kentucky Lake.”

“This isn’t a fishing rig. This is what we use to measure water depth when we’re not sure our sounders are working properly.”

“How much line is on that thing anyway?”

“There’s seven hundred feet of ten pound test on this particular spool, but I have others. It changes color every hundred feet. There are other markers at the five and fifty foot intervals. I’ll be able to tell within a few feet the exact depth of the bottom by converting these colors to feet. Actually, if we were in the ocean, we’d be converting feet to fathoms.”

“I see you came prepared, but I’m sure that we’re just going over some moss or detecting a thermo cline.”

“We’ll know soon enough.”

Dr. Baker attached the weight to the line with a swivel. Bill could see why the pole was so short and stiff now. There was no need to do anything other than let the line out. The pole only had to be long enough to get the weight over the side of the boat. You didn’t have to cast it, just press the release button and let it drop. A longer pole would droop with the weight of the line and sinker.

“Here goes nothing.” Dr. Baker said as she pressed the release button. The sinker dropped immediately. “This will fall at a rate of about one foot every 3.5 seconds initially. As more line leaves the spool, it will speed up a little, but not much. The weight of the line in the water helps to pull it down, but the resistance of the water on the line cancels out some of that pull, so it stays within the foot every three to five seconds rate most of the way down.”

Before she had finished talking, the line passed the first ten-foot marker.

“Bill, try to hold the boat in this exact position.”

“I’ll throw out the anchor. There’s hardly any wind, we shouldn’t drift much in this light breeze.”

With that he dropped the anchor, its twenty foot of rope became taught in a few seconds as it failed to touch bottom.

“What the- that’s a twenty foot anchor rope! We really are in a deep spot!” Bill said, astonished.

“You don’t know the half of it. I’ve got 60 feet of line out now and it’s still going strong.”

“Let me see if I can find your sinker on the depth finder’s display.” He looked but he was pretty sure that the sinker wouldn’t have enough surface area to bounce a signal back to the boat. Not at that depth anyway. But he did see the reflection of the anchor clearly. There it was, hanging straight down about twenty feet under the boat. On this scale, it was much harder to tell small distances.

“One hundred feet.”

They both set there stunned as the reel continued to play out line at a slowly increasing rate.

“One hundred fifty. Bill, get in my bag and get me a sample of the water here, would you please?”

That suited him just fine. He needed something to do besides watch that spinning spool lowering a chunk of lead into who knows where? He fumbled in the bag she’d brought and finding an empty sample bottle, he filled it, and returned it back to her bag. All of this killed a few minutes.

“Two hundred fifty.”

“What happened to two hundred?” Bill said, as if he really wanted to know.

“We passed it fifty feet ago.” Dr. Baker said, smiling at him.

For the next thirty five minutes, neither of them said a word. Bill could see the colors change as the line played out until finally-

“Six hundred feet!”

With that, Dr. Baker clicked the windup crank forward putting the spool into the retrieve mode and stopping the falling weight. Even so, the weight would continue to fall another few feet as the 600 feet of line stretched. This line was very much like spider wire. But at this length, there was still a little give in it.

“Why did you stop?” Bill said.

“I don’t know. I think I’m a little frightened. This isn’t right. We’re not off of the continental shelf; we’re setting in a Jon boat in northern Illinois. This can’t be happening.”

“It can’t be, but it is. How, I don’t know. Maybe there was an old mine shaft that’s been here all along. Maybe the fish I caught lived at the bottom of it.”

“Mine shafts don’t go straight down.” Dr. Baker said, “For a little bit maybe, but then they go out in a horizontal direction.”

“A well would go straight down, but for 600 feet?”

“An oil well could easily,” Dr. Baker replied. “But oil wells are never more than a foot or so wide. What’s the chance that when this place was built, they might have drilled some kind of test hole, an exploratory shaft for some reason? I mean, this place is run by the government isn’t it?”

“I don’t know why they would have done something like that, but it is possible I guess. There has to be some explanation for it. Maybe someone was thinking of using this lake as a dumpsite for nuclear waste. A hole in the bottom of the lake would be hard to find. Everything at Fermilab is under the supervision of the Department of Energy. We work with nuclear materials all the time though they’re mostly just low grade radioactive isotopes. Maybe someone was afraid that we might discover some exotic new form of matter and this hole was bored as a precautionary measure…a safe place to hide something in.

But how could it be so wide? It must be twenty to thirty feet across. How could I have never found something this big before? I’ve been over this lake dozens, probably hundreds of times and I always have the sounder on. Though I don’t know why? There’s no structure to speak of.”

Without even thinking about it, Dr. Baker pressed the trigger on the reel again and the line began playing out. Five minutes later.

“Six hundred fifty feet.” She said in a monotone voice. Then after what had seemed like an eternity- the spool stopped spinning and the tip of the pole bounced ever so slightly as the line tightened. They had reached the end of the line.

“Seven hundred feet.” They both said the words in unison. Then, Dr. Baker repeated it, as if that would change something. “Seven hundred feet, and still no bottom.”

Between the sinker, the line, and the reel, the pole was beginning to feel rather heavy. Dr. Baker had long ago laid the pole across the bow next to one of the ore locks. At this point there was nothing left to do but reel it back in.

“Here, let me do that.” Bill said, offering to trade places with her. “Take over the motor and I’ll spell you on the fishing pole.” But just as Bill started to trade her places a look came over Dr. Baker’s face that caused him to stop dead in his tracks. She was staring at the display on the depth finder. Along with the dozens of small blimps flashing like fireflies, there was one huge blimp. It covered an area almost an inch long and it was close to the bottom of the display.

“What is that she said?” pointing towards the back of the boat.

The way in which she said it startled Bill even more.

“What is what?” Bill said, looking out over the water, half expecting to see the protruding neck of some gigantic sea monster at any second.

“That she said!” this time pointing more vigorously at the depth finder while still holding the fishing pole tightly in her left hand.

Finally, Bill realized that she was pointing at the depth sounder. The display was showing dozens of blips, almost all of them in the deep water. But there was one blip that shouldn’t be there. At least one not as large as this one was. How could it be so large and yet so deep? As they watched, they realized that blip was rising quickly towards them. It was now in about 225 feet of water.

“Let me have that pole.” Bill said.

With that, he grabbed it out of her hands and started reeling in the line furiously. After about thirty seconds, he stopped.

“Why did you stop? Dr. Baker asked.

“It won’t come up anymore.”

“What do you mean, it won’t come up anymore?”

“I mean, it’s hung up.”

“But there’s nothing for it to get hung up on.”

“Well it’s stuck on something. Look!”

With that, he pulled up on the pole as hard as he dared, afraid that if he pulled any harder he might break the line. The pole, stiff as it was, bowed about six inches. Sure enough, the line had caught on something- something very deep down in the hole. All he was doing was stretching the line; the sinker wasn’t coming up at all.

“Oh my God!” Dr. Baker gasped. This time, she not only looked scared, she sounded scared. And like a yawn, he caught her fear. “Look at the display now!”

The blip was much closer now and it was getting bigger as well. It was only about 160 feet from the surface and moving upwards with ever increasing speed. Fifteen seconds later, 140 feet! At this rate, it would reach the surface in just a little under two minutes.

“Here, take this. I’m getting us the hell out of here.” With that he handed Dr. Baker the pole. She instinctively pressed the trigger, letting the spool go back into free fall. This took the pressure off of the line, but Bill had only reeled in about a hundred feet, so it wouldn’t be long before it would reach the end of the spool again. Bill flipped the trolling motor into high (#5) but he’d forgotten that it was still in reverse so he wasted several precious seconds getting the boat turned around and headed in the right direction…towards the bank! His gaze was transfixed between the finder’s display and where they were headed. They had only gone a few feet when the normal eight foot bottom popped back onto the display.

“OK! We’re over eight feet of water again. At least we’re not over that hole anymore.” What ever was coming up from the depths had only been about 75 feet below them when they reached the edge of the hole. Seventy five feet, yet it had taken up the whole bottom of the display. Bill couldn’t even imagine how big it was. But he knew it was huge. This wasn’t a fish; this was a whale, or a monster!

A few seconds later, the boat, which had just started to pick up speed, suddenly jerked hard and to the left, the bow dipping almost into the water and nearly capsizing them. The boat had reversed directions. They were facing back towards the hole again, the trolling motor pushing them ever closer.

Dr. Baker cried out, “It’s the anchor; you still have the anchor out!”

Sure enough, the anchor must have caught on the edge of the hole and when the rope tightened, it jerked the boat back towards it. Bill never moved faster. Grabbing the filet knife from his tackle box he tossed it to Dr. Baker.

“Cut the rope,” he said, as he turned the trolling motor to right, trying to get some extra leverage on the taught rope.

He didn’t have to tell her twice. Dr. Baker took the sharp knife from its sheath and slashed the rope in one fell swoop. As soon as the pressure of the anchor rope was released, the boat immediately swung around under the urging of the trolling motor and they were headed towards shore again.

Several people standing on the bank verified what happened next. They had been watching the boat with interest, wondering why two people were fishing in the middle of the lake with what appeared to be a kids fishing pole. These last antics with the trolling motor had really gotten their attention.

The boat was still moving towards the shore, but the 20 pound thrust trolling motor didn’t have enough oomph to get it there very quickly. From behind them, back about 30 yards, the water started to…rise.

It was as if someone had turned on a powerful hose. Or a huge water main had broken under the lake and the pressure of the escaping water had caused the surface of the lake to rise slowly. Nothing broke the surface but it was definitely taking on a convex appearance. Then in the next few seconds, it rose more sharply, changing from a small mound into an ever growing hill of water. Still, nothing broke the surface. But as it grew, it started to churn. Tons and tons of water erupted up out of the depths. The water was being pushed with incredible force by what ever they had seen on the depth finder. Fortunately, whatever was pushing it was apparently too large to fit through the hole itself. But it was forcing thousands of gallons of water through that hole. And who knew what else?

The mountain of water struck the small Jon boat with enough force that it was like being on a surfboard. The boat rode the wave created by the water right onto the shore, landing only a few feet from the startled spectators. Not just to the shore- on the shore. If the trolling motor hadn’t acted like a rudder, plowing into the ground, they would have ended up totally beached. The spectators were drenched by the wave as it washed over the shoreline.

As the water settled back into the lake, fish were stranded everywhere. And some of them didn’t look like any fish that Bill had ever caught. Dr. Baker took notice of this as well.

“I think we found what I was looking for.” She said, half in a state of shock.

“I don’t know what we found? Bill said, as he fumbled to turn off the motor that was still spinning even though the shaft was bent beyond repair. But my fishing days in this lake are over.”

Now I’m backing up to chapter 12. This chapter takes place in the beam tunnel, the heart of the Tevetron. Very strange things were already happening and here is good example of another one…

Chapter 12 - Back In The Beam Tunnel

“Are we moving?” Sgt. Madison asked, barely above a whisper.

“I think we are. I thought I felt some vibration just after the elevator doors closed.” Captain Rider wasn’t quite sure about anything at this point. He had just witnessed things that defied his imagination. Things were happening that he couldn’t explain...no one could explain what they’d just seen.

But after another several seconds passed, it was evident that they were definitely not moving.

There was only one thing to do. “Captain, I think you should push the open button and see if we’re still in the beam tunnel.”

“I have a very bad feeling about this Sgt., but I guess your right.” With that, Captain Rider touched the lighted door open button once with the index finger of his right hand. The doors opened- slowly.

They both moved to the back of the elevator as the gap between the doors inched wider. Sgt. Madison had drawn his service revolver just in case…what they saw as the doors inched open was something they would never forget. About forty feet away from them stood a creature the size of a St. Barnard. No, it was more like a Shetland pony. It was about four feet tall and covered in heavily matted hair, almost snow white in color except for the tail, which was hairless. Even though it was facing away from them, they knew exactly what it was. It was the same thing they’d seen earlier. Except this one was a much larger version. Screeee Screeee Screeee.

Suddenly, it stood up on its hind legs and threw its long neck and head into the air. They could see the narrow, hairless snout, probing the air for a scent. After a few seconds, it whipped its head around and looked squarely at them. They froze in place, neither wanting to breathe. Then Captain Rider took a single step towards the elevator’s control panel. The creature detected the movement and charged.

What happened next took place so quickly that neither of them was entirely sure of what really did happen. The creature’s first lunge must have covered about a third of the distance to the elevator. Captain Rider started pounding on the close door button as soon as the creature saw them. Sgt. Madison dropped to a kneeling position and raised his weapon. The dim light of the beam tunnel and the elevators single overhead lamp didn’t afford him a very good view of his target. Sighting along the barrel he took aim at the creature but it was moving so fast and its head was so long and narrow that he knew he’d be lucky if he even hit it.

The second jump brought the creature to within a dozen feet of the door, which had finally started to close. He might not get a head shot, but he could still do plenty of damage. These were 45 magnum hollow points and they could stop a raging bull. Sgt. Madison squeezed the trigger and the explosion of the discharging bullet sounded like a cannon going off in the confined space of the elevator. The concussion of the expanding air around the guns nozzle almost ruptured their eardrums.

Unfortunately, he missed. His nervousness had caused his aim to be off to one side, just grazing the creature’s right ear, which only made it madder. The only thing the bullet did was to knock a chunk of concrete out of a brace attached to one of the liquid nitrogen lines. Before he could get off another shot, the animal lunged again and was only a yard or so in front of the closing doors, the long snout almost in the elevator with them, when a brown blur streaked out from their right and snatched the creature from sight.

It was incredible. This thing had to weigh at least two hundred pounds, and even with all of its forward momentum, one second it was there, the next it was gone. As the doors shut, they could here its wailing cry. Screee Screee Scr-. The last screech was cut short. Then, through their pounding ears, they heard what sounded like boards being broken. But they knew it wasn’t boards at all, it was bones. The elevator vibrated slightly as it started its assent. Luckily, Captain Rider had pressed the, “Level One” button in his haste to close the doors so not only had they closed; they were headed to the next level as well.

They pressed themselves against the back wall of the elevator, as the sounds of the breaking bones grew fainter. The elevator vibrated a second time.

“I think we really are going up this time,” Captain Rider said, never taking his eyes from the elevator’s doors.

Sgt. Madison didn’t say a word. He just stood there, still pointing his weapon towards the doors. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or if this really was happening. About five seconds of silence passed.

There was a sudden jarring of the elevator and they both knew that its upward motion had stopped. The light above their heads flickered, but stayed on. Nothing happened for twenty, maybe thirty seconds. It was like being in a tomb. Total silence. Then they heard it. At first, it was just a light scratching on the floor below their feet. If it hadn’t been so completely silent in the elevator, they might never have even noticed it. They leaned over, almost to a bow, turning one ear to the floor trying to make out what the sound was. WHAM! Something smacked the floor so hard that the elevator must have jumped several inches in its shaft. WHAM, a second time, a few seconds later! This blow not only jarred the elevator, it buckled a section of flooring near the control panel. They grabbed at the flimsy railing attached to the wall, almost falling, barely managing to keep their balance. All of their senses heightened every nerve and muscle fiber on full alert.

Then…silence. The beating of their hearts was the only sound they were aware of. Seconds passed like minutes. They were afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. “God, don’t let that light go out,” Captain Rider thought to himself. “I can’t imagine being here in the dark.” And he stood there, trembling in the silence.

Then, just barely above the sounds of their breathing, scarcely above the threshold of their heartbeats, they heard a sound resonating from the floor. It sounded like the noises an old house makes late at night. Noises you only hear because the world is sleeping and the night is deathly quite. They both realized what was causing the sound at the same moment. They could see it. The floor was pushing up. A slight bulge had developed at the center. What they were hearing was the stress of wood and steel as it was being pressed out of shape by some unseen force. The floor was tiled, not carpeted. “Tiled floors are easier for the maintenance men to clean,” Captain Rider half spoke and half whispered.

Sgt. Madison looked up at him, “What?”

And he realized how stupid that must have sounded. A few of the tiles were beginning to pop up around their edges now, and he could see a layer of material beneath them. It looked like it might be plywood, but he had no idea what went into the construction of an elevator’s floor. What ever it was, it was being stretched out of shape as if a giant hand were pressing against it. In a few more seconds, the center of the floor was at least four, maybe five inches higher than the outer edges. More tiles popped as low groaning noises erupted from the overstressed wood and metal.

Then, as suddenly as it started, it was over. The floor was frozen in this convex position, but the creaking and groaning noises ceased as the pressure was taken away. Captain Rider inched his way to the control panel staying as close to the walls as was humanly possible. He pushed the “Level One” button for the forth time that night. Once again, the elevator vibrated, but this time violently. Then, it started its rise to the next level. It was a jerky ride, the undercarriage no longer fitting properly in its track.

It seemed like forever but it actually only took about 20 seconds before they heard, “Level One” over the elevator’s speaker. There she was, that beautiful voice they had been waiting for. The one they thought they might never hear again. When the doors finally opened, another surprise was awaiting them. People were working, talking, joking; everything was business as usual. But how could that possibly be? How could anyone have not heard all the commotion, in the elevator? And where was the rest of their team? Where were the police?

Then, one of their colleagues passing by happened to look over at them. “What happened to you guys?” And as his gaze fell to the floor, “And what the hell happened to our elevator?”