“Cottages?”
Max shrugged. “What would you call them? They’re obviously domiciles, and each of us has one.”
“Yeah, I guess, but…”
“Come,” Max said, placing a gentle hand on Alex’s elbow. “Let’s go see the warehouse.”
They walked around to the forest side of the building, where large double doors swung open as Max pushed through them.
“No pads on the outside,” Max explained.
Inside the warehouse was a long corridor, lined on each side with five doors. Each door had a green pad next to it, complete with glowing LEDs, most red, some green. At the far end of the corridor was a single door, and Alex realized that the chamber beyond had to be at least a quarter of the building, judging by its exterior dimensions. There were eleven doors in all, including the one on the end.
“We’ve opened three so far,” Max explained.
“What is in them?” Alex asked.
“Two of them have food. One has nutrient powder canisters. Two table spoons makes enough for a filling meal when mixed with water—there were instructions. We haven’t had time to do an accurate count, but I’d estimate that with proper rationing there’s enough to keep fifty people alive for several years, if they can stomach it. It’s not very appetizing. There’s a dispenser in your cottage. You can come here to get more powder when it runs out.”
“Fifty people? Is that how many there are here?”
Max nodded. “That’s how many cottages there are. Forty one…sorry, forty two, have come out thus far. Hopefully the rest are just sleeping off whatever drugs were used to knock us out.”
“What about the other rooms?”
“Dehydrated food in the second, enough for a year, if rationed, and tools in the third. Wrenches, screwdrivers, that sort of thing. It’s almost like the tool section in one of those big hardware stores.”
“How big are these rooms?” Alex asked.
“Here, I’ll show you,” Max said, walking up to a marked door. “So far, once the doors are unlocked, they stay that way unless the one who opened them in the first place locks them again.” He pushed the pad, and the door slid open, disappearing into the wall. Once again, Alex was reminded of Star Trek. The open doorway revealed a room stocked with large plastic drums. It was a little bigger than the room he woke up in, and the drums took up all available space.
“That’s the powder?” Each drum was labeled with the words “Nutrient Powder” and a date, presumably the powder’s expiration. If the dates could be trusted, they had well over twenty years to use the stuff. His mind rebelled, not able to accept that he would be here for another day, let alone twenty years.
“Hold on,” Alex said. “Why are we messing around with this warehouse when we should be getting the hell out of here? Is this an island? Have you looked around?”
Max shook his head. “If it is an island, it’s very big. But we can’t leave. That was one of the first things I tried. There’s a barrier.”
“A barrier? But I didn’t see any walls or fences.”
“It’s not a wall. It’s…” Max hesitated, licking his lips as though trying to figure out how to best phrase it. “You’ll see soon enough. It’s hard to explain. I’ll show you when we’re done here, if you want.”
“Fine,” he said, grudgingly. “So what do you want me to do?” He had not given up on leaving, but there didn’t seem to be a reason to hurry. It wasn’t reasonable to assume that someone would go to all this trouble to bring them here if they could just walk away. Unless that was the purpose of the experiment…to see if they would just accept their fate or try to fight it. Even the experiment theory was starting to wear thin, though. The army could get away with experimenting on soldiers, but so far, he was the only one in uniform.
“Just go to every door and use the pad. Avoid the green lit ones.”
“Okay.” He walked past each of the doors marked by a red LED, touching its pad. Some of the pads had tiny holes like the one below his bed, but most did not. Each buzzed negatively as he tried it, until he got to the door on the end. Its pad had a hole, and when he touched it, he felt that slight pricking sensation and heard a positive chime. The LED turned green and the door slid open. Behind it was a short corridor, less than five feet long, and another pad-protected door.
“Impressive,” Max said, nodding appreciatively. “The big one. Let’s see if you can open the inner door as well.”
They stepped into the corridor, and Alex touched the pad. Once again, there was a pricking sensation, followed by a positive tone, followed immediately by another tone. This one wasn’t harsh, but still sounded negative. Whoever had chosen these tones knew what they were doing. The meaning of each sound was easily understood.
“That’s odd,” Max said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve never heard that sound before.”
“Oh well,” Alex said, mildly disappointed. Despite his confusion and frustration, he was curious to see what was in the big room.
“Maybe it takes two people,” Max said. “One to open the outer door, and another to open the inner one.”
“Maybe,” Alex said. “But I want to try something else first.” It was all the Star Trek references going through his mind that triggered the idea. “Go back to the hallway for a minute.”
“Why?” Max looked confused.
“Maybe it works like an airlock.” There were pads on both sides of the outer door, which made sense if someone was meant to close it while inside the corridor.
The older man brightened. “Yes! That’s an excellent idea!” He backed into the main hallway. As soon as he was out, the outer door slid closed. Alex touched the inner door pad again, and this time a positive tone sounded and the LED turned green.
As the door slid open, Alex’s eyes widened. Stepping into the room beyond, he let out a deep breath.
“Holy shit…”
It was a large room, over thirty feet on each side, filled with weapons, ammunition and other military equipment. He quickly counted thirty M4 carbines before he lost track, each as well equipped as the one he was carrying. There were also pistols, machine guns, belt fed grenade launchers, even a rack of anti-tank rockets. Ammunition cans were stacked almost to the ceiling. Along a far wall was a shelf unit filled with black plastic boxes marked “NVD,” which stood for “night vision device.” Behind a rack of pistols, he saw the distinctive barrels of .50 caliber Barrett anti-material rifles. Unable to fully process what he was seeing, he grew faint and grabbed a nearby wall for support.
Whoever brought him here had given him an arsenal, and for reasons he could not yet understand, that scared the shit out of him.
Chapter 4
Alex backed out of the arms room and turned around as the door slid closed behind him. The outer door opened with a touch of the pad, and he walked out into the main hallway, almost knocking Max over as he marched past him.
“What was inside—hey! Where are you going?” Max said. The outer door to the arms room slid closed as soon as he cleared it.
“Guns,” Alex said. “Lots of guns.” He kept walking, heading for the double doors. “I need to be alone. Need to think.”
Max didn’t say anything, for which Alex was grateful, and he left the warehouse and retraced his steps back to his own cabin. It was crazy to think of it as his, or even a cabin, but for some reason it was his center in all this madness. He needed to be there, to lock the door behind him and think.
“Excuse me…” a woman started to say, but he ignored her and walked steadily back the way he had come. There was no one by the cottage when he got there, and the door was still open. He noticed another green pad on the outer wall. Apparently the door would lock if he closed it, presumably opening only for him. Stepping inside, he pulled the door shut, saw the LED turn red and went straight for the bed.
Before sitting down, he removed the rifle, chest rig and pistol holster and tossed them onto the mattress, then sat on the floor at the foot of the bed, facing the wall. Taki
ng a deep breath, he closed his eyes. A slight hum emanated from the ceiling as a wash of cool, dry air flowed over his exposed neck and head.
“Air conditioning,” he muttered. “Fucking air conditioning.”
Opening his eyes, he stared at the corner, focusing on the wall’s uniform texture. Reaching out, he ran his finger along its surface, trying to clear his mind of all but the sensation of the cool plastic under his fingertips.
Cool? He rapped at it with his knuckles. It wasn’t plastic after all, but some sort of metal, probably aluminum. He got to his feet and walked around the room, knocking on all the various surfaces. The entire structure, except for the plexiglass windows and bathroom panel, was made of the same metal. Even the desk surface and the locked drawer that held his weapons. During his examination, he found the powder dispenser Max had mentioned. It was mounted on the wall near the transparent divider, just to the right of the desk.
Holding his hand below the dispenser’s spigot, he pushed down on the lever just enough to release a single puff of white paste onto the palm of his left hand. Apparently the dispenser premixed the powder, which was convenient. Taking some on his finger, he brought it to his mouth and tasted it with the tip of his tongue.
It was mildly sweet with a heavy texture, not unlike the grits that they served in the chow hall on those few days a month he actually got to eat there. After Max’s comment, he had expected something foul, and was pleasantly surprised. Realizing he was famished, he finished off what little he had in his hand, then started looking for a plate. Below the dispenser was another green pad, and looking at that section of the wall, Alex noticed the outline of a panel. This particular pad was just a simple spring loaded button, and the panel popped open as soon as he pushed it. Inside was an assortment of miscellaneous trinkets, including cups, plates, tableware and other knick knacks.
He removed a plate, spoon and cup, then dispensed a sizeable quantity of white goo and sat down at his desk. There was a laptop computer there, just as Max had said there would be. It was folded closed and extremely thin, which was why he hadn’t noticed it before. He put the plate on top of it.
The sweet goop was surprisingly filling, and though he would have preferred a burger or a steak, it wasn’t a bad meal. Filling his cup with water from the bathroom sink, he paused momentarily, wondering if it was safe to drink, then shrugged and took a sip. It was clean and refreshing, like bottled spring water.
Leaning back in the leather chair, he patted his belly and smiled, satisfied. It wasn’t all bad, wherever this was. For starters, there was no one to tell him what to do. When he was hungry, he could eat, when he was tired, he could take a nap. There was even a beach. He could go swimming, if he could find a pair of shorts.
He realized what was happening. It was a familiar pattern of ups and downs as his brain struggled to come to terms with a new situation. He remembered feeling much the same way during his first day of basic training, where he had gone from depressed to elated and back to depressed within minutes. Ultimately a mild depression had won out and continued throughout his military career. This place, though, was different. His down period included confusion, fear and frustration, but not depression. In a strange way, being here was somewhat liberating, though he doubted any of the others felt the same way. Unless of course some were also soldiers—or prisoners.
He stood up and slapped his thighs. “I’m going to go to the beach!” he said excitedly, deciding to enjoy the up period while it lasted. He put on his pistol belt, but decided to put the rifle and chest rig back in the compartment under the bed. He also removed his ACU blouse and tossed it onto the chair. A t-shirt would be much more comfortable, considering the humidity.
This time he closed the door behind him when he left his cottage and tested the handle to make sure that it was locked. It was. There were more people up and about than he had seen last time, and most of them still stared at him. He ignored them, though now that he was feeling good he enjoyed the attention.
The beach was easy to find, all he had to do was follow the sound of the waves. He squinted as he looked across the expanse of sparkling blue water, and almost laughed when he found himself wondering why sunglasses had not been included in his supplies. The beach wasn’t very big, perhaps a hundred meters across. To the left, the surrounding mountains sloped gently down into the water, forming a natural barrier. A single tree, it’s limbs twisted and almost bare, stood alone just past the edge of the jungle that carpeted the mountains. The tree had a stately aspect, like something out of a vacation brochure for a Caribbean island, though Alex had been to the Caribbean and it hadn’t looked anything like this. Tall palms leaned over the water on the opposite end of the beach where a patch of forest intruded to the ocean’s edge.
“It’s a fucking tropical resort,” he muttered, sitting down by a fallen tree trunk. “All I need now are some lounge chairs and mai tais.” He looked around, noticing that he was alone, and added, “And some girls in bikinis wouldn’t hurt either.”
He had been there less than a minute when he heard someone walking up behind him, turned, and saw the pretty Jewish girl that had yelled at him earlier. She approached tentatively this time, staring at him with a mix of distaste and curiosity.
“Hi,” he said, deciding to remain seated. She stopped a few feet away, then realizing he wasn’t going to stand, walked around to face him.
“Hi,” she said hesitantly, her lips still pursed in an expression of dissatisfaction.
“Are you going to yell at me again?” he asked, then contorted his mouth into a deliberately obnoxious grin. The noon sun set her hair aglow as it cast shadows that accentuated the lines of her face. She squinted against its brightness, her pale skin betraying her indoor lifestyle in whatever past she had been torn from. The faint freckles on her face extended to her arms, and though Alex did not usually like freckles on a girl, he found himself liking them on her.
“No,” she said flatly. “The others, they…well, they made me come and talk to you. They said…they said that since I’ve been so vocal about my complaints, I should be the one. Of course those weren’t the words they used, they probably don’t even know how to spell ‘vocal.’” Alex looked over her shoulder and noticed a small crowd of people staring at him apprehensively.
“Sit down then,” he said, patting the sand next to him, leaning over so as not to make it too close. He didn’t want to discourage her. She frowned, but then rolled her eyes in resignation and lowered herself carefully to the sand, taking great pains to make sure her knee length skirt did not ride up too high.
“Okay,” he said. “Now tell me what they want.”
She brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “They think you know something. I know you said you didn’t, but if I don’t believe you, you can bet they don’t either.”
“What’s your name?” he said, ignoring the question. If he confirmed he knew nothing, she would leave, and he didn’t want that, not yet. She wasn’t wearing a bikini or holding a tropical drink, but she wasn’t bad to look at.
“Yael.”
“Yah-ehl,” he said, pronouncing each part carefully. “Like gazelle. That’s kind of a mouthful. Do you have a nickname or something?”
She glared at him. “It’s two syllables.”
He shrugged. “I mean I like it. It’s cool, but kinda hard to say.”
“Can we get on with it, please? Do you know something or not?”
“Why would you think I know something?” Despite having spoken to her less than a minute, he knew that asking her this obvious question would set her off, and that was precisely why he did it. There was something about the intensity of her outbursts that he enjoyed.
Sure enough, her eyes flared. “You’re kidding, right? You can’t be that dense.”
He smiled. “Is it the uniform?”
“You mean that glorified leaf print you’re wearing? Yeah, that’s part of it. How about the guns, genius? You’re the only one with guns.”
; “Wow,” he said, laughing and shaking his head. “You’ve got a bug up your pretty little ass, alright.” Her mouth fell open, and she looked like she was about to start shouting again. “But I like it. I think it works for you. My name is Alex.”
He held out his hand, and she seemed taken aback. She hesitated for a moment, not sure what to do, but eventually decided to shake it, however briefly.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know any more than you do. The uniform, the guns, they were in my room…I mean my cottage, or cabin, whatever. I am a soldier, it is my uniform, except that it isn’t, you know what I mean?”
“Yes,” she said, her shoulders slumping slightly. “These clothes, they’re just like what I’d wear, but…” She stopped, as though she realized she was talking to him like a normal person. “So you’re basically as useless as the rest of them.”
“The rest of us, you mean, right?”
She raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess it is the rest of us.” She looked away, and he thought she might start crying.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright. We’re alive, we’ve got everything we need, and the beach…”
She pulled away and glared at him, again. “Everything we need? You may have everything you need, but I need my family. Excuse me.” She got up and dusted herself off.
“Wait,” he said, also climbing to his feet. “Where are you going?”
“Why the fuck do you care?” She walked towards the village, but away from the crowd. The waiting people shifted their gazes between her and Alex until she announced, “He doesn’t know anything!” Then she disappeared around a corner and was gone, leaving him staring after her.
“She’s right,” he yelled at the crowd. “I don’t know anything.” That seemed to satisfy them, or more accurately dissatisfy them, and they began to disperse, walking in every direction but towards him. For a moment, Alex wondered why he wasn’t actively trying to figure out what was going on like the others were, or like he’d wanted to do when he met Max. He did care, but perhaps not as much as they did. As a soldier, he was used to being in a situation completely out of his control, so perhaps he was better adjusted. Still, now that he thought about it, he supposed it might be a good idea to do a bit of investigating of his own.
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