by Sahara Foley
“No, Captain. We're going in alone. Alpha Team stays out here until we come get you.”
“Sir, I think you should at least take a radio with you.”
“Good thinking, Captain, except the radio won't work under tons of iron ores, too much magnetism. No, you wait there, in the trees.”
He salutes as he's backing up, saying somewhat loudly, “Yes, sir.”
I shine one of the flashlights into the tunnel. Tiny sparks along the walls. Amazing. The broken webs hang loosely along the walls, still collecting and discharging the static charges. Tober will have a ball with this new technology, if he doesn't fry himself first.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Uh, kid, don't touch those wires or get too close,” I warn, suddenly remembering her professional curiosity.
“Don't worry, I won't,” Ruth assures me, standing as far from them as possible, which means, right against the middle of my back.
The beams from our flashlights end about fifteen feet into the tunnel, where the tunnel curves, then curves back. More sparks jumping around down there makes us freeze. Another full set of four webs, but lying against the walls, not stretched across.
“Why didn't they hook these webs up?” Ruth asks. “Too much in a hurry, maybe?”
I shrug. There's no way we can second-guess how an alien being would think. As we creep past them, each mass of hanging webs bow out towards us from the wall, then falls back with little snaps and sparks.
“Some toy, huh, kid?” I ask, but she doesn't answer. Ruth is glued to the spot, staring straight ahead. Farther down the left side of the wall hangs a shiny box.
I mentally probe the box. It's two feet square and composed of metal or plastic material I've never encountered before. Inside the box is a mass of tiny golden lines, inlaid on plastic-looking material, and a couple rows of what looks like crystals down each side. For all the world, it reminds me of a printed circuit board, except for the crystal objects. The box seems to have nine circuits. I can't perceive anything that looks remotely dangerous in the box. Would I know what dangerous is from these alien life-forms? On the other side of the box the tunnel ends at a solid, black wall.
“Maybe it's a type of door control,” I suggest, striding to the box.
“Or a BOMB,” Ruth wails, gluing herself to my backside.
“That's it, kid, cheer me up.” As I reach to touch the box, she flinches and tries to become a part of my back, just sort of melts into me.
On the front panel of the box is a row of what resembles touch pad buttons. Nine of them and each has a symbol on it, except the last one. That button has several symbols on it, all running together.
“Close your eyes, kid.” I reach to touch the first button.
“Uh, Arthur, are you sure you should do that.” Her tiny voice is full of fear, and I can feel her trembling.
“No. Got a better idea?” I ask over my shoulder.
“No.” Then a small sigh, with more tightening of her hands around my body. “Okay, go ahead then.”
“Yeah, kid, how can I move with you wrapped around me like a straitjacket? Will you loosen your arms so I can at least move? Jeez, you're a walking pair of vise grips, kid, I swear.”
I touch the top button. Buzz. Snap. Bright, white light emitting from above our heads, almost like florescent, all the way back up the tunnel.
“You like that, kid?”
“What?” she asks, with her head pressed against my back, eyes tightly closed.
“Open your eyes dummy, and look.”
“Oooh.” She unglues herself from my backbone. “What did you do?” She looks around, then leans towards the panel.
“Just put my finger right there and pushed. Zap, let there be light.”
She studies the panel, brows furled in thought. “That looks like a P lying on its side. There's a pair of P's back-to-back, and the last one looks like a word.”
“That's some imagination you got there. Push one.”
“No.” She jumps behind me.
“Hey. Where's your professional curiosity at, kid? Get out here.”
“No. It took off with a UFO,” she mutters into my back.
“Then, why did you come in here with me, Ruth?” I ask, frustrated with her attitude.
“Bloody if I know, oh damn.” Leaning around me, she jabs a button, saying, “There,” then hurriedly retreats to the safety of my back.
All the button does is glow with a white light.
“Do another, kid,” I encourage her.
Peering around me, she tentatively jabs another.
Again, all it does is glow with a white light.
“Go on,” I tell her.
Taking a deep breath, she steps out from behind me. Jab, jab, jab, jab, jab.
I stop her before she jabs the last button. The whole row is glowing with white light, but the button with what Ruth said looks as though it has a word on it.
“Arthur, you push that one,” she squeaks, as she leaps behind me and again becomes a part of my spine.
I cautiously push it.
The button lights, nothing else. Then I feel her flinch in my backbone.
“What's that?” she asks in a small voice.
We faintly hear a humming and scraping.
“Oh, bloody hell, I told you it was going to explode.” She digs even deeper into my back.
The noise becomes louder and louder, and I can feel the scraping noise through the soles of my shoes, then a loud grating and a crunch. At each new sound, Ruth flinches deeper into my back.
“Damn, kid. Any more moves like that and you'll come out the front of me. Relax.”
Suddenly, there's a sound like you hear when you open a can of pop or beer. Passoopp!, and the whole wall begins to retract slowly to the left. Ruth's vise grip hands begin to dismantle my ribcage.
“Holy shit, kid, LET GO.” I jerk her around to the side, almost tearing her arms from her sockets. “Jeez. You're really something, Ruth. Damn.”
No tears, but her eyes are enormous, and she's shaking so hard that I can't stay angry with her. She's terrified. Her eyes are glued to the slowly moving wall, probably a door. The wall slides slowly left and disappears.
Beyond is pitch blackness. The lights from the tunnel cast in about eight feet and all we can see is a smooth rock floor. We hear water running and dripping, that makes you think of a large, hollow room. I aim my flashlight and step forward, Ruth right behind me.
Then in a flash, metal, and alive, and not moving.
I thought the mental probes were from the alien life-forms that took off on the UFOs. But they're gone now. I shine my flashlight around and stop, midstride. I hear Ruth take a sharp, short breath. Twenty feet from our left sits a large, pale, white shape. It's rounded and domed over the top. Our flashlight beams make little sparkles dance all over it.
“Holy shit, Ruth,” I say excitedly. “A UFO. We found one.” I stand there in awe at our discovery.
If she answered, I didn't hear her, because that probe came again. Metal, alive, and not moving.
I stride to what has to be a spaceship. On one side, the spaceship has several huge boulders lying on it, and there is…HOLY SHIT. A body. No three bodies. I'm thunderstruck. No way had I imagined we would find a spaceship, let alone alien life-forms, though they're dead.
The aliens are wearing suits like the divers wore that we'd seen on the VCR film. They'd been smashed by falling rocks, probably from our detonations at the grates.
I don't know if I heard it, or felt it, but I freeze again, with my heart in my throat. A sound, from out there in the vast darkness. Ruth is looking with a frightened expression, so I really had heard a noise. We hear it again, out there, to our right. I shine my flashlight slowly around, revealing water, a large black shape, then faintly, lighter writing.
“I'll be damned, Ruth. A submarine. A Russian fucking submarine.”
“The Ptomken,” she says quietly. “They were here. We were right, Arthur. Oh God, we were r
ight.”
We continue shining our flashlights around, but the room is so vast, we don't see much in the beam of the lights. I let my light play over the three bodies again. One body holds a white tube in its gloved hand. I pry it loose, and as I do, a blazing, white light shoots out from it. A flashlight.
Ruth makes a gurgling sound, so I glance over at her. She looks very much like a person who just shit their pants.
I look back at the bodies. In their suits and helmets, all I can observe are the eyes, glazed and open, a very faded, pale blue. The shapes of their bodies appear human, but it's hard to tell in their suits. On the suits are the same emblem we'd seen on the ship, a blue leaf, much like a maple leaf.
Ruth is shining her flashlight around. “Look, over there.”
On the opposite side of the rock wall, where the door disappeared, is another box. On it are the same nine buttons and symbols. Ruth is studying the box, and she must've taken her brave pills, because before I can say anything, she quickly pushes the first eight buttons.
KAZAPP. CRACKLE. The whole cave lights up, brighter than daylight. We have to squint, it's that bright.
“Oh my God, Arthur.” She's frantically pointing, so I turn to where she's pointing. Not one Russian sub, but three of them, with a silver sword and an arm painted on the periscopes.
“Holy shit.” I'm speechless. We solved the mystery of the Lady of the Lake and Excalibur. I don't know how I feel. I guess a part of me always wanted them to be real.
Ruth crosses herself several times as she mumbles out, “Oh, my Lord God.” Funny, I never knew she was religious.
Something else catches my attention. Over on the other side of the natural small lake in the cave, rests another UFO. But this one's partly dismantled, pieces lying around it.
“Jesus Christ, Ruth,” I say in wonder. “What we found is the discovery of a lifetime. Just look at all this stuff. And look over there.”
Where I'm pointing at is quite a distance from us, and from where we're standing, we thought we were looking at a striped wall. As we approach the striped wall, I notice next to it a metal door.
About halfway across the large cave, Ruth stops; her hand up to her mouth. “Oh, my God.”
At this range, the striped wall can be seen for what it really is, bars set into the rock. Behind the bars lie bodies, hundreds of bodies, wearing Russian sailor uniforms. Most of them are lying like Ruth had been on the beach; curled up, hands over their ears, mouths wide open. Were they screaming when they died? A chill shoots up my spine, imagining their horrific deaths.
Wait. I didn't think I was mentally scanning any longer, but a part of me must still be, because I feel a flicker among the mass of bodies, like a living person would make. Hoping against the impossible, I concentrate more intently. If even one Russian sailor is alive, we'll be able to learn so much from him. They've been kept prisoners with these aliens, probably for years. They've seen the aliens up close, maybe even spoken with them. I have to try to save at least one.
As I scan the bodies, I feel it again. Alive. Metal. Not moving. And close now, very close.
There's the flicker of life again. No, there are several flickers. Way in the back, pressed below a pile of bodies, crowded together in the right, rear corner of the cell, three flickers of life. Approximately seventy bodies are piled on top of them. Is that what saved them from the killing vibrations, a wall of sound-absorbing flesh? I mentally tag the bodies, then, telekinetically, begin to drag them off the live sailors.
Ruth steps beside me, then kneels, studying the bodies nearest to and touching the bars. Their hands are charred black. Just as the webs, the bars hold a charge. I didn't even notice, being too involved. What if I'd touched the bars? I better start paying closer attention. This is not the time to get killed.
Ruth points to the wall a little distance from the bars, another silvery box, exactly like the other ones. I telekinetically short across the nine circuits and with a bright flash, sparks and pieces of burned metal or plastic goes flying. The huge bars begin to move to the left, retracting slowly into the wall, disappearing.
I scan the rest of the huge cell. Nothing. “Okay, kid, there are three Russians alive in that corner. Let's get them out and see if we can save them”
“Arthur, I don't know how you're doing it, but I'm able to hear and feel everything you are, plus your thoughts too.” She gives me a puzzled look. Glancing at the cage, she asks, “Please, you go in there, I don't want to, ahh, I mean, I'd rather not touch the bodies, okay?”
“Sure, kid. Can't blame you. Who wants to wade through bodies?” I pat her arm.
As I focus on the three live Russians in the corner, I carefully recheck the dead ones, no one else alive in the cell except these three. I place a small force-field around them. The small force-field is round, and as it solidifies, pieces of the jumble of bodies lying on the live ones, or in the field's way, are severed cleanly off. Suddenly, there's blood coating the small field, with pieces of arms, legs and heads inside the force-field with the lucky survivors. There isn't much I can do about that now.
Turning to Ruth, I pull her close, tucking her head into my shoulder. “I don't think you want to watch this part, kid.”
I'm glad there isn't anyone else here to watch. They would've called me cold-blooded or heartless for what I have to do next. The remaining bodies in the cell I'd already placed inside a larger force-field, and now I begin shrinking the field slowly towards the left wall. Watching hundreds of bodies roll, fall, slide, and seem to jump, would upset anyone.
The large field continues to shrink to the wall. Not wanting to damage, or disrespect the bodies any more than I already have, I slow the rate of shrinkage. Before long, there's a clear, if gore-smeared path, along the right wall, all the way back to the small, bloody ball in the corner. I drop the larger force-field. It makes a soft POO, and vanishes.
The small field is covered with dripping blood, but the three people inside are still alive. By pulling the field towards me, I move them from the corner, along with the severed body parts inside with them. A red smear spreads across the floor as the small field slides towards me. When it's in the open and just a few feet away, I release the field. It vanishes with a small POO. The live Russians fall into the severed body pieces trapped inside the field with them.
“Okay, kid, now this part will be a bit gory. I can't chance trying to zap the body parts away. I might accidentally zap a part of the body from one of the live ones. So, I'm afraid, we'll have to remove the severed body parts by hand. Are you up to this?”
Ruth looks up at me, gives me a small smile, kisses me lightly and says, “I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm being a silly female. I'm a doctor for bloody sake. I've seen body parts before. Yes, I'm ready. Let's do it.” She turns around.
She must've forgotten she wasn't THAT kind of doctor, because as she turns, and gets a good look at the bloody mess, she makes a gagging sound. Her hands fly to her mouth and she bends, hurrying off to the side. It's not long before her double helping of the Major's SOS, and all Tober's souped-up tea spews in a torrent. She's on hands and knees going through uncontrollable retching. It looks as though she's going to continue vomiting, even after there isn't anything left in her stomach. Then she fazes into the dry heaves. Poor kid. But I can't blame her, not at all.
The human body contains lots of nasty, smelly fluids, although most people don't realize how much. Not just blood and urine, but other fluids with different thicknesses and even different colors. But one thing they have in common, they stink. The smell is so overpowering my eyes start watering, so I hastily shut off the olfactory receptors of my nose.
Ruth is still having dry heaves, so I focus into her brain. I gently touch her pleasure center, and she not only stops heaving, but she has an orgasm, falling face forward into the whole fucking mess. Oh shit, that's not what I meant to do. I'm like a walking comedy of errors. Shaking my head at my ineptness, I notice she's just lying there, so I carefully focus on her again. I'
ll be damned, she's asleep. Well, she always could go to sleep at the drop of a hat. I lean over and pick her up, gently sitting her on the floor against the wall.
Concentrating on her force-field, I carefully expand it. As her force-field expands, all the foreign substances fall from her body. I even expand it to the ends of her hair. I settle it back into place. Too bad you missed this one, kid; you just had a nuclear expansion shower. I check her again. There's a fine line between deep sleep and a coma. She's right on the edge. I push her gently, continuously, until she's simply deep asleep, dreaming of her father. Good, kid, sleep it off. You've earned the rest.
Turning my attention back to the live sailors, I receive a small shock. Something I hadn't noticed before, two are men, the other one a woman. I didn't know the Russians had female sailors on their subs. That must be great for morale when you're sitting under a polar icecap.
As I mentally scan them, I discover they have very little physical damage. The woman has a broken leg and a few broken fingers. She was at the bottom of the pile of bodies in the corner. Were they trying to protect her? The two surviving men are in worse shape. One has fractured ribs, and the other one has a badly fractured pelvis.
As I study the female, I see the reason for her being at the bottom of the pile. From her uniform, I recognize that she's the sub's Captain. And the two men on top of her were her Executive Officers. That must be why they were trying to protect her. But I bet it didn't hurt she was female either.
All three surviving Russians are in deep comas. The youngest of the men, with blonde hair, is in the deepest coma, and I doubt he'll ever regain consciousness. Well, maybe in many years, with lots of care. The other two are in traumatic shock, like Dobie had been. I'll try to help them first.
Kneeling on the floor by them, I notice part of a severed head lying on the Captain's foot. The head is severed diagonally starting at the forehead above the right eye and ending with part of the nose and right cheekbone, the bloodshot eye staring out. Brain fluids are dripping from the head. I pick up the partial head by the remaining hair and toss it across the room to the pile of bodies. Pieces of fingers, arms and legs are lying over these two survivors. I throw the severed body pieces over with the bodies. What a mess.