The Dark Descent

by William Oday

  Industrial sized hammer drills, maybe.

  This corridor was wider than the last, though not by much. A thick black cable ran along the peak of the arched ceiling. A packed dirt floor completed the primitive passage. We followed it through several unmarked intersections. I cataloged them and which direction we took at each.

  Breadcrumbs in case we needed to find our own way back.

  Our path ended at another metal door. A name was printed on the embossed metal cross piece. The letters were mostly worn away, but enough of the edges remained to read it.

  SALVATION

  A large black scorch mark covered most of the left half of the door. Whatever had been written there was now a carbonized scar. Still, the damage had only been surface level as the metal itself looked solid enough.

  The door slid open in silence. Whoever maintained this one needed to pay some attention to the first one.

  We entered a large cavern. Not a cavern. A spacious room constructed of metal panels and a textured metal floor. Forty feet square and a dozen feet high.

  Martinez let out a slow breath and her posture relaxed a hair.

  A candidate for claustrophobia?

  I filed it for later clarification.

  Dim light made the space just bright enough to suggest the silhouettes of tables and chairs, computer terminals, a curved screen covering one wall.

  A single light in the center shone brighter than the rest.

  The muscle in the lead headed straight for it. The one in the back shoved me forward.

  “Careful,” I said with malicious intent.

  He was half again as wide as I was, but the ability to crush rocks with your bare hands didn’t decide a fight. Sure, power was important. But so were speed and accuracy. I had an urge to slash a spinning elbow across his nose and finish him with a vicious chop to the throat. The kind that was designed to do more than incapacitate.

  The kind that was meant to do permanent damage.

  “Try me,” he replied, apparently also itching to make it personal.

  I exhaled slowly, consciously calming and centering. I was here to talk. Not fight.

  They led us to the cone of illumination and stopped us in the middle.

  I glanced up and blinked at the bright light. The rest of the room faded to darkness.

  “Isn’t this a bit much?” Martinez said to no one in particular.

  A voice echoed out of the darkness, from every direction and none at once.

  “I admit, I’ve always had a flair for the dramatic. I think it comes from an unfulfilled yearning to be a storyteller.”

  “I assume you’re Crypto?” I said.

  “Don’t assume. You know the reason.”

  The reason?

  “What reason?”

  “It’s right there in the word! And I think you meant presume, in any case.”

  “I didn’t come here for a grammar lesson.”

  “No? Then why did you come?”

  Looking around the room, not knowing where to look, was grating on my nerves in a bad way. “I came for answers.”

  “And why do you assume that I am the one who will give them to you?”

  “Enough of this nonsense!” I yelled. “Show yourself or this conversation ends right now.”

  The light above us faded and a nearby light grew in intensity.

  Out of the murk, a large chair appeared. Made of curved metal and attached to the floor on a swivel. It faced away from us.

  More mystery?

  I was about to throw that elbow and damn the consequences.

  “Maybe you didn’t understand what I just said.”

  The chair rotated around and stopped when it faced us directly.

  Reclining against one arm with his feet crossed and kicked up on the opposite arm was the smallest man I’d ever seen.

  At least the smallest man I could remember seeing.

  Which wasn’t the best sample size, considering my condition.

  Still, he was short.

  He grinned and waved. “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

  A shock of wild black hair perched on his head like a wind-blown bush. A thicket of twigs hung down over his eyes. He brushed them back and then scratched a few weeks worth of dark stubble. “I’m Crypto. Welcome,” he gestured around the room, “to my little corner of paradise.”

  I hadn’t recovered yet.

  I didn’t know what I expected, but he wasn’t it.

  Crypto. With a name like that, a skinny teenager with bottle cap glasses, greasy hair, and a feverish glow in his eyes would’ve felt right.

  “You disappoint me, Scout. From long and tragic experience, I know I’m a surprise, but I expected better from you. Maybe you aren’t the man I thought you were.”

  I recovered my senses enough to stop being an idiot. “Sorry, uh, Crypto. No offense intended. I’ve had a rough couple of days.”

  “So I’ve heard,” he said with a mischievous smile. He looked at Martinez. “And what’s your excuse?”

  “Excuse?”

  “Ahh, I see. It looks like I’m not the only one with a penchant for brainless trigger-pullers.”

  “Brainless trigger-puller?” Martinez said as she took an angry step forward.

  A huge hand clamped down on her shoulder and dragged her back.

  Martinez gritted her teeth in pain. “Tell your ape to let go before he loses an arm.”

  The ape laughed like a lion being threatened by a mouse.

  Scout didn’t know how that fight would turn out, but Martinez was no mouse.

  Crypto lazily waved and the hand let go. “She can speak. What a wonderful surprise. Now, shut up while your betters discuss business.”

  Martinez was about to reply, but I cut her off.

  “Why did you ask me to come here?”

  “Because, Scout, you could be a valuable ally in the coming war.”

  My brows pinched together. “The coming war?”

  His gaze narrowed with suspicion. “Why are you wearing a bedsheet on your head? You’re not a mystic and no mystic would wear that on their head anyway. So what am I missing?”

  CHOICES:

  1. Lie! Do anything but tell him that I can’t remember much. Telling the truth would be a strategic blunder.

  2. Go with the truth. Maybe a show of honesty will help gain a powerful ally.

  The group chose #2 and this is what happened next…

  22

  I touched the wrap covering the drain tube and my patchwork shaved head. I must’ve looked ridiculous. And the fact that I hadn’t anticipated him asking about it was yet another sign that I still wasn’t mentally sharp.

  And now he was peering at me with suspicion, waiting for an answer.

  For half a second, I considered lying. But the second half of that second reminded me that this guy controlled this level or some section of it for a reason. No one got into a position like his by being stupid. Or by being overly trusting or gullible.

  He would know the lie the second it slithered out of my mouth.

  So it had to be the truth.

  But the truth existed on a continuum because it derived from life and life was a continuous brush stroke from the purest white on one end to the deepest black on the other.

  The truth lived in the grays. The ones that mattered did, anyway.

  I watched him as he watched me. We both knew what had just happened.

  The start of the game.

  We each knew our our own cards, but not the cards of the other. The truth of the cards would come out sooner or later as they were laid on the table.

  But the sequence and timing of the revelations would determine who walked away the winner.

  So it had to be a partial truth.

  The smallest viable truth to begin the betting and bluffing.

  Martinez watched me in silence. She was obviously wondering which direction I’d choose to go.

  I found the end of the wrap and slowly, carefully, unwound its length
and let it drop to the floor.

  “Wow!” Crypto shouted. “And people say I’m a freak!”

  I bowed theatrically to give him a better view of the drain tube and stitched wounds, aiming to engender a sense of companionship between us.

  He swung his legs down and let his feet dangle from the edge of the chair. “What did those monsters do to you?”

  Monsters?

  His voice had softened. There was empathy behind the question.

  Already, the first card played was paying dividends.

  “I had an injury,” I said.

  He waited but I didn’t offer more.

  “And how did you sustain said injury?”

  “Lost my balance and cracked my head on the edge of a desk.” I wasn’t positive that was true, but it definitely could’ve been.

  He stared at the drain tube sticking out. “And what’s that pipe sticking out of your head supposed to do?”

  “It drains fluid to prevent any pressure building inside my skull.”

  “You have a hole going through your skull?”

  I nodded.

  “Have you ever heard of Mary Shelley?”

  “Who?”

  He jumped up onto the seat and raised his hands in the air as if he were a god calling down the storm. “A writer from a long time ago. She wrote a literary masterpiece called Frankenstein.”

  He waited for me to agree.

  I didn’t.

  I’d never heard of Frankenstein or Mary Shelly. Or at least, couldn’t remember if I had.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  His eyes widened in surprise, feigned or otherwise, I couldn’t tell. “It has everything to do with everything!” He laughed maniacally and, for the first time in our short introduction, I began to wonder if he was all there. The cackling laugh cut short and he pointed at me with an accusatory finger. “Are you the monster?”

  He was making no sense. Not to me anyway. I glanced at Martinez and her expression said she agreed.

  “Am I the monster? What are you talking about?”

  The maniacal laugh again. Again abruptly cut short. “You have to admit. It was a reasonable question. I mean, look at you. You don’t have bolts sticking out of your neck, but you are quite the horror.”

  “I didn’t come here to be insulted or to amuse you.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. I know all too well the feeling of being the object of another’s amusement. You could say it’s been my life’s story.”

  “What did you mean when you said the coming war?”

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  Damn. I’d unknowingly laid a second card on the table.

  “No one reads the classics anymore,” he said. “No one reads much at all, if we’re being honest. And we are being honest, aren’t we?”

  I nodded.

  He stared and waited.

  The bluffing game.

  The wait designed to see if the silence drew one of the players into making a mistake.

  He finally continued. “I appreciate your candor and show of trust. I’m not against lying on principle, especially when it adds a bit of flavor to a story. Had you said you’d created a new fashion trend and it was becoming all the rage, I would’ve, of course, known it was a lie. But I would’ve approved all the same.”

  “I’m not big on making up stories.”

  “Indeed. Even a blind man could see that you are the no nonsense type. And as your friend, I see much more.”

  “So we’re friends now?”

  “I hope so. Because we’re either friends or enemies. There’s no room for middle ground in between.”

  “Why not?”

  I stuck with a simple, open-ended question in the hopes that it would prompt him into a more comprehensive explanation.

  “Because when war comes, the only thing left in the middle are the victims. The people on either side are soldiers of their respective causes. Their deaths are meaningful and a necessary contribution to the cause. But the sad people in the middle. The victims. They are too often ravaged by both sides and lose no matter the final outcome. But you are no victim.”

  “Is there a reason you’re forcing me to listen to a treatise on the cruelty of war?”

  “I’m not forcing you to do anything. You may leave at any time,” he said as he gestured toward the entrance.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I was finally in a position to get some information. Leaving was the last thing on my mind. Strangling this meandering fool, on the other hand, was rapidly climbing the list of my priorities.

  “Why do you think war is coming?”

  I’d already laid the card on the table. There was no sense letting it go to waste.

  “Because this bunker is a powder keg about to explode. One spark and the whole thing goes up in flames.” He reached low with both hands cupped together. “Pkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,” he said as he lifted them wide into the air, like a bomb going off.

  Dramatic, indeed.

  That wasn’t as detailed of an answer as I would’ve liked. But it was a start.

  “What’s the spark?” I asked.

  The maniacal laugh again. This one went on twice as long as the others.

  How did he get so much air into such small lungs?

  The laugh ended as abruptly as before and he pointed at me like lightning was going to shoot out of his finger tip.

  “You are!”

  23

  Me?

  The spark?

  He was sounding crazier and crazier by the minute.

  Martinez groaned as she turned to me. “Would you mind if I kick this little dwarf in the gut? The sound of him wheezing for breath would be so much better.”

  “Little dwarf?” Crypto said. “That’s all you’ve got? I’m not even insulted at your insult. I’m insulted by your lack of creativity!”

  Martinez took a step forward and the enormous meathook of a hand clamped down on her shoulder, dragging her back into place.

  Crypto waved the guy off before it turned into anything more.

  I glared at her to keep her mouth shut and it looked like she got the message. Then again, it looked like that a minute ago, too.

  “Why are you here?” Crypto asked.

  “Didn’t we cover this? You asked me to come. I’m on your turf so thought it would be respectful to oblige.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Remind me to play poker with you someday because you’re a terrible liar. And that was a boring lie. I am not entertained.”

  Stupid. I’d strayed too far from the truth. He knew I didn’t give a damn about showing him any respect.

  “And anyway, that wasn’t what I meant. I meant, why are you not with the other overlords in the upper levels?”

  “You already know that. General Curtis has labeled me a dangerous fugitive and has soldiers out searching for me. We figured escaping to this level was the best move to buy time.”

  “A reasonable course of action. What any logical person would do.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “I’m trying to help you understand what’s happened.”

  I waited, letting the silence fill the space between us.

  “You’ve been played, Scout.”

  Played?

  I’d been surviving by quick-thinking coupled with an admittedly helpful serving of good luck. I knew how I’d gotten this far. I didn’t need some enigmatic, potentially insane, criminal under lord to spell it out for me.

  “You doubt me?” he asked.

  “I doubt everything. It’s an occupational best practice.”

  He chuckled. “I like you, Scout. I really hope I don’t have to kill you.”

  “Threatening someone’s life is not a good way to make friends.”

  He threw up his hands. “What can I say? While I’m a dreamer, a romantic at heart, I work in a practical world that doesn’t often reflect my naturally del
icate sensibility.”

  I was beginning to understand why people called him Crypto. Everything he said could either have several meanings or no meaning at all. Cryptic didn’t cover it by half. Getting him to answer in a simple and straightforward manner was going to be the true test in the game.

  “Let’s not dwell on unpleasant possibilities,” he said. “I apologize for bringing it up.”

  “You’re sorry for threatening to kill me?”

  “I didn’t threaten you!” he roared and the bush clinging to his head swayed as his head shook with rage. He wiped his face and smoothed invisible wrinkles in his black uniform. “I merely reflected on an undesired outcome.”

  Was I going to feel bad when I put my fist through this maniac’s face? I mean, was it fair to beat the blood out of someone so much smaller than me?

  “Anyway, I see that you’ve missed the forest for the trees,” he said. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

  I could get over the guilt. A single blow to the temple would satisfy my need to hurt him while hopefully not causing permanent damage to his torqued spine or neck.

  “Let me put it in simple terms,” he said. “You’re here because General Curtis wants you here. Whatever you think you did to get here happened because he wanted it to happen.”

  The room shifted under my feet.

  A dizzy spell that I fought to keep under control. I couldn’t show weakness now. Whatever value he saw in me as an ally wasn’t going to survive my crashing to the floor or, worse, admitting how I couldn’t remember anything.

  “Why would he want me here?”

  “Because you are an enemy of the state and must be hunted down for the safety of every citizen in the bunker.”

  “Why does that help him?”

  Crypto stared at me with suspicious eyes.

  I probably should’ve understood that part already, but I didn’t.

  “Because now he has a reason to step on our throats for as long and as hard as he wants. A reason that everyone, even those in the middle that will inevitably be innocent victims, will agree with and support.”