Chapter 41Hunger

Seriously, being super hungry messes with your head! Your brain's working overtime, but it's not getting the fuel it needs, and you start thinking wild stuff. I hadn’t really gotten what hunger was until now.

But like, three months before I could even tell my story about starving, I used to hang around the Professor’s house a lot as a kid.

My uncle was all about routines. He thought you needed a day for fun, on top of the day for rest and church. So, Wednesdays were always free for me to do whatever.

I was into combining being useful and having a good time, so my go-to was bird nesting. I had a killer collection of eggs in the whole town. All organized and in glass cases.

There was this wood I could reach by catching the cheap train if I woke up super early and got there around eleven. I’d look for plants or rocks, whatever I felt like. My uncle was always stoked for samples for his herbarium and cool stones to check out.

Once my pockets were full, I’d start hunting for nests.

After a couple of hours of serious searching, I sat down by a stream to eat my lunch one day. Seriously, thinking about that spiced sausage, the wheaten loaf, and the beer makes my mouth water now! I’d trade anything for a meal like that. But anyway, my story.

While chilling, I looked up at the ruins of an old castle not too far away. It was the remains of a historic place, covered in ivy and falling apart.

I saw two eagles circling the top of a tall tower. I figured there was a nest up there. I was missing eggs from the native eagle and the big owl in my collection.

I’d made up my mind. I was going to reach the top of that tower, or die trying. I got closer and checked out the ruins. The old staircase had collapsed years ago. But the outer walls were still standing. There was no way up that way, unless I relied on the ivy for support. That didn't work out.

There was the chimney left, which still went all the way to the top and used to vent smoke from every floor of the tower.

I decided to climb that. It was narrow and rough, so it was actually easier to climb. I took off my coat and squeezed into the chimney. Looking up, I saw a little opening, letting me know I was close to the top.

Up - up I went, using my hands and knees like a chimney sweep. It was slow going, but there were lots of bumps and ledges, so the task wasn't too bad. That’s how I got halfway. The chimney got even narrower after that.

It was super stuffy, and then, to top it off, I got stuck. I couldn't climb any further.

There was no way around it, and I had no choice but to go back down and give up my prize in defeat. I accepted my fate and tried to climb down. But I couldn't move. Some hidden, weird thing was blocking me. Suddenly, I realized just how bad my situation was.

I couldn't move forward or backward, and I was basically going to die of starvation. But, you know, a kid's mind is pretty flexible, and I started thinking of all sorts of ways to get out of this mess.

First off, I didn’t need to eat right then, I’d had a great meal, so I had time to think. My first thought was to try and loosen the mortar with my hand. If I’d had a knife, maybe I could have done something, but I’d left that handy tool in my coat pocket.

I quickly realized all this was just a waste of time, and all I could do was try to wiggle my way down.

But even though I jerked and struggled, and tried to turn, it was all for nothing. I couldn’t move even a tiny bit, one way or the other. And time just flew by. Waking up early probably made me sleepy, and I gradually started to feel drowsy.

I drifted off, and woke up in total darkness, starving.

Night had fallen, and I still couldn't move. I was totally stuck, and I didn’t manage to change my position even a little. I groaned out loud. I hadn’t really felt this hungry since I was a kid, when it was a drag to go from one meal to the next without eating.

The feeling was totally new and super painful. I started to freak out and scream and cry from the agony. Something appeared, startled by the noise. It was just a harmless lizard, but to me, it looked like a disgusting reptile.

I made the old ruins echo with my cries again, and finally wore myself out so much that I fainted.

How long I lay in a kind of trance or sleep, I couldn't say, but when I woke up again, it was daylight. I felt awful, and hunger was still eating away at me - it’s hard to even describe. I was too weak to scream, way too weak to struggle. Suddenly, I jumped at a roar.

"Are you there, Henry?" my uncle’s voice called out; "are you there, my boy?"

I could barely reply, but I also made a desperate effort to turn. Some mortar fell. That’s what got me spotted. When they searched, it was easy to see that mortar and little bits of stone had fallen from above. That’s why my uncle yelled out.

"Chill," he said, "if we tear down the whole ruin, you’ll be saved."

Those were good words to hear, but I didn’t really think it would happen.

Not long after, though, about fifteen minutes later, I heard a voice above me, near one of the upper fireplaces. "Are you below or above?" "Below," I replied.

A basket dropped down with milk, a biscuit, and an egg. My uncle didn't want to seem too eager with the food. I chugged the milk first - I was seriously thirsty, so hunger wasn’t really there yet. Then, feeling way better, I ate my bread and that tough egg.

They were busy working on the wall. I could hear a pickax. To get away from that crazy weapon, I really struggled, and the belt around my waist, which was hooked on a stone, snapped. I was free, but barely dodged falling by scrambling on my hands and knees.

Ten minutes later, I was in my uncle’s arms, after being stuck in that awful prison for two days and nights. My delirious moments messed with my sense of time.

It took weeks to recover from that starvation scare, but honestly, that was nothing compared to what I was going through now.

After zoning out for a bit, thinking about all sorts of stuff, I looked around again. We were still zooming upwards, super fast. Every now and then, the air felt like it was cutting off our breathing, like how it does for balloon riders when they go up too quickly.

But unlike them, who probably felt freezing, we were getting seriously hot. I’m not sure exactly how high, but I think it must have been around one hundred twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit.

What was going on with this crazy temperature change? So far, everything had backed up Davy and Lidenbrock’s theories. Until now, all the weird conditions of those rocks, the electricity, the magnetism - they’d all twisted the normal rules of nature and kept us at a decent temperature.

But the theory of the central fire still made the most sense to me.

Were we seriously heading towards a situation where these things would happen, all out, and the heat would melt the rocks?

That was my totally understandable fear, and I didn’t hide it from my uncle. My way of saying it might have seemed harsh, but I couldn't help it.

"If we don't drown, get squashed, or starve to death, we'll at least get burned alive," I said.

My uncle, faced with that bluntness, just shrugged and went back to thinking - whatever he was thinking about.

An hour went by, and the only change was a slight rise in the temperature.

Finally, my uncle broke the silence himself.

"Well, Henry, my boy," he said, sounding upbeat, "we gotta decide something."

"Decide about what?" I asked, totally surprised.

"Well - about something. We have to, whatever the risk, get our strength back. If we mess up and save our tiny bit of food, we might drag out our awful existence a few more hours - but we’ll just stay weak until the end."

"Yeah," I grumbled, "until the end. That won’t be long."

"Just let a chance for safety pop up - just let a moment of action be needed - where will we find the energy to act if we let ourselves get physically weak from starving?"

"When this meat’s gone, Uncle, what hope will we have?"

"None, my dear Henry, none. But will it help to stare at it? You seem to me to be reasoning like someone without drive or decision, like a being without energy."

"So," I cried, feeling super frustrated, "you're not saying - that you - that you - have given up?"

"Absolutely not," the Professor replied, totally unfazed.

"You’re telling me, Uncle, we’re actually gonna get out of this crazy underground tunnel?"

As long as there’s life, there’s hope. I gotta say, Henry, as long as a guy’s heart's beating, as long as his body’s still moving, I won’t let anyone just give up.

What a bold move! The guy stuck in a spot like the one we were in had to be seriously brave to talk like that.

"Okay," I blurted out, "what’s the plan?"

"Let’s finish off the food we’ve got; let’s eat the last little bit. Hopefully, it’s our last meal. Forget it - instead of being totally wiped out, we’re gonna be men."

"Yeah," I mumbled, feeling bummed, "let’s just eat."

"We gotta," my uncle said with a big sigh, "call it what you will."

My uncle grabbed a piece of the meat left over and some biscuit crusts that survived the mess. He split it into three parts. Each of us had a pound of food to last as long as we were inside the earth. Now, everyone was just acting like themselves.

My uncle, the Professor, ate like crazy, but you could tell he wasn’t really hungry - just going through the motions. I shoved the food in my mouth, and even though I was starving, I chewed it without enjoying it, without feeling satisfied.

Hans, the guide, just scarfed everything down like it was nothing, like he always did. He seemed totally chill, ready for anything, whether it was a feast or complete emptiness.

Hans probably wasn’t used to starving any more than we were, but his tough Icelandic background had prepared him for a lot of rough stuff. As long as he got his three rix-dollars every Saturday night, he was good to go.

The truth was, Hans didn't really care about much except his cash. He'd signed on to work for a guy for a set weekly rate, and no matter what happened - bad stuff for his boss or himself - he never complained as long as he got paid.

Suddenly, my uncle perked up. He’d noticed a smile on our guide's face. I couldn’t figure out what it meant. "What's up?" asked my uncle.

"Schiedam," said the guide, pulling out a bottle of this awesome stuff.

We took a swig. My uncle and I swear, that's what kept us going 'til the very end. That bottle of Hollands was only half full, but it tasted like heaven.

It took a few minutes for me and my uncle to decide how we felt. The Professor downed about half a pint and couldn’t drink another drop.

"Fortrafflig," said Hans, finishing off what was left.

"Awesome - really good," said my uncle, sounding like he’d just left a fancy club in Hamburg.

I started to feel like things might actually work out. But then, poof - all hope disappeared!

We'd eaten our last bite, and it was already five in the morning!