Hollow Earth

By John Macallen Davis

When Jack Carter's grandfather suddenly passes away he receives a leather journal, as well as plenty of money, under the promise that he will continue Grandpa Carter's search for the truth.

With the help of two of his closest friends, Jack soon discovers the world beneath our feet, filled with predatory creatures and strange humanoid beings. A sanctuary that time has somehow forgotten.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiction Factory
• Release date: Jul 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386857518

Book preview

Chapter 1

I'D LIKE TO TELL YOU a story.

This is a story that was told to me by my dying grandfather. Upon visiting him in the Carrington Place, which is a home for adults in Virginia, he began bestowing onto me information that would prove to change my life. While my cousins would receive his personal belongings, my grandfather said he was giving me the greatest gift of all.

I was his favorite.

I always had been, honestly. As a child, he had taken to me. I can remember countless days of watching football with him on the couch. He would always explain that the game of football was very similar to the art of war, without the intrigue that often took place behind the front lines of war. I didn't know what that meant at the time. Now I do.

The other kids came around as well, but they usually went off somewhere to play, like typical children did before the internet was mainstream. Meanwhile, I saw fascination in my grandfather's eyes. He always told the best stories. My friends learned of World War 2 out of necessity – forced to learn its history by high school teachers. I learned through my grandfather's stories. He often weaved it all together like a good novel and I would gobble it up; listening as I hung from his every word.

Later in life as my cousins all moved on, only visiting him once a year during the Christmas season – I remained. While I did join the United States Army, I stayed in close contact with my family, which included my grandfather. After eight years of service to my country, I returned home to find him aging quite fast. I cared for him as best I could, when I could.

Still, there was a look of past adventure in his eyes.

I'm sad to report that my grandfather went to be with the Lord on February 7th, 2017. But before he did, the man who'd taught me about the second great war divulged a secret onto me that would forever change my life.

Adolf Hitler was alive.

I know what you must think, as I thought it too. But a dying grandfather has no need to lie about such things. Especially given the way he grabbed my shirt and tried his best to make me believe. I saw desperation. I believe that everyone who faces their ultimate demise has something to finish. And my grandfather's was this.

It was our last conversation and he made me swear to seek out the truth. He had seen Adolf Hitler with his own eyes and narrowly escaped with his life. That was back in 1981, according to my grandfather. I can't say that  I fully believed him at the time, but I did believe that he believed it. And that was enough for me.

My cousins, all of whom were distant when it came to our grandfather, received money and titles to his vehicles and sums of cash. His daughter Clarice, who hadn't been to visit him in nearly two decades, was given his large house. Complete with seventeen acres of land, a falling barn and some of the prettiest scenery you could imagine. It was picturesque perfect for a life in the deep south.

What a shit deal.

I was straddled with some memory of what he'd seen or what he'd thought he'd seen, along with a leather journal. The type of journal that could have been bought on the cheap at any decent office supply store.

When I left that retirement home my heart told me that I'd never see him again; a man that I had grown to respect and truly look up to. And he'd shafted me in the end.

I had half a mind to throw the damn journal away as soon as I got back home. It was only a two-hour drive – I'd still be pissed when I got there.

Why had he deliberately given me the shit end of the stick? I was the only person outside of his official caretaker to actually care, and she'd been paid to do it. My concern was authentic. It wasn't the worldly possessions themselves – I had enough money. It was the insult of it. My other relatives didn't care about Grandpa Carter. He was a smart man, surely he knew that they didn't care.

There had to be another reason...and there was.

As I discovered when I began reading the journal.

MY GRANDFATHER HAD always been obsessed with the study of World War 2. He'd only been a child during the great war, but I can remember countless times when he'd sit alongside me and begin telling me about the greatest battles and their outcomes. Even the romances of field generals and mistresses.

According to his journal, Grandpa Carter first read of Hitler's survival beyond World War 2 through a small media outlet in Argentina. Just as I hadn't, or you don't – my grandfather didn't believe what he'd read. It wouldn't be the first time a hoax had been given even the slightest ounce of credibility in the media world.

But this story was different.

A man claiming to have received money in exchange for helping one of the worst dictators in modern day history escape, could also name his accomplices. Moreover, he provided several key pieces of paperwork as proof, along with a small tin box filled with pictures of the man he claimed to be Hitler. Though aged, the man in the pictures' look was unmistakable.

My grandfather had made his money. Aside from distant family, he was alone in this world – alone with the curiosity that resides in so many of us. So my grandfather left for Argentina in order to seek out a man named Adolf Leipzig – presumably Hitler.

He noted that the FBI themselves were also looking into the numerous eyewitness accounts coming from Argentina. And while their own investigations came up empty, my grandfather, a retired detective, claimed he knew where and how to go about it.

Is it so hard to believe that Russian, at that time Soviet Union troops, rushed to declare Hitler dead? There would certainly be honor in finding the most hated man in the world. It's possible. If Hitler had the foresight to understand this, then using body doubles which he'd been known to use, probably would have satisfied the Soviets temporarily.

Now imagine the leaders of the Soviet Union, which had lied on previous occasions, coming to the realization that the real Hitler had somehow slipped through their grasp. Is it so hard to believe that they would again lie to their own people in order to deliver Hitler in the proverbial sense and save face in the process?

My grandfather didn't think so.

For months at a time, he would leave the beautiful countryside of North Carolina and head to Argentina. Within the journal pages were receipts to testify to the fact. And then, by his own admission, he had frozen up during a chance encounter with Hitler while staying in Argentina and preparing to return home.

There was absolutely no mistaking it, he'd written. It was Adolf Hitler.

He'd described Hitler as being much older, but still walking on his own. His hair had lost most of its color, but his soulless eyes remained. Several mysterious men accompanied