Agartha’s Castaway
Book 6
In
The Trapped in the Hollow Earth Novelette Series
By
Chrissy Peebles
Copyright © 2012 by Chrissy Peebles
Edited by: Autumn J. Conley, [email protected]
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For:
Faith and Matthew. I love you.
To:
My Father God in heaven.
To:
Jayde Scott. Thank you for reading this entire manuscript from start to finish. You’re the best critting partner ever! Your advice, ideas, and suggestions were nothing short of amazing. I couldn’t have done it without you!
To:
My brilliant editor, Autumn J. Conley.
Chapter 1
The ship pulled inside the docking bay of the massive mothership, as though they were tiny krill being sucked into a whale’s mouth. Once that happened, those poor little shrimp-like creatures were as good as goners. Casey had to wonder if her fate would be the same. Gazing out the window, a scream froze in Casey’s throat. The seconds trickled by slowly.
She gulped, and a shudder ran through her body as they glided to a stop in front of the landing platform. Am I actually inside an alien vessel? It all seemed so crazy, so farfetched, yet there she was. Rows and rows of shiny disks, about fifty feet in diameter and fifteen feet high, lined the giant hangar. Clearly, they could visit Earth, do recon, or defend the mothership with those.
Soldiers in black uniforms and helmets scrambled over. She bet there had to be several thousand troops aboard. She began to wonder how they could possibly carry out their mission without being discovered.
Thorn tugged at her sleeve and hissed, “Over here.”
She crawled over to Mike, shut her eyes, and spoke a quick prayer. Thorn touched a button beside the hatch, and a door in the metallic floor opened without so much as a sound. Talk about high-tech stuff! Her stomach fluttered as they all slid out of the craft. She was extra careful not to make any sounds, especially with her boots.
Remember, no talking. Thorn’s voice rolled across her mind. She didn’t need to be told twice. Crouching down, they waited silently underneath the ship. Two rebels stood less than ten feet away. Casey craned her neck, but from where she hid, only their uniform-clad legs were visible. She shivered and whipped out her gun, her nerves running into overdrive.
The hard click-clack of footsteps moved toward her. She placed her finger on the trigger as her heart started to pound, drowning out the rest of the noise.
She still wondered how she’d ended up in such an odd predicament. The gun in her hands made her nervous. She forced her legs into action, trying to scoot back into the shadows, but her feet wouldn’t budge. Shiny black boots stopped in front of them. She held her breath, hoping her racing heart wasn’t going to give away her presence like that Edgar Allan Poe story she’d read in literature class.
Thorn tapped their shoulders to get their attention and then pointed to himself and toward the ramp. Casey nodded and grabbed Mike’s arm just in case he didn’t get Thorn’s message to stay put. There was a short nod, and then Thorn crept to the other side of the ship, disappearing from sight.
Her stomach lurched. How could Thorn just leave us like that?
“The ship’s definitely a model manufactured by our race,” a soldier said, walking away.
An injection was definitely worth the tiny bit of burning she had to endure to understand their language.
“Where are the pilots?” a voice crackled over a radio.
“We’ll check it out.” A radio clicked, ending the transmission.
Thorn appeared at their side and whispered, “There’re four of them, visors up, and they’re inside the ship.”
Mike unzipped his backpack and started rummaging through it, the sound carrying through the silence. Casey shot him a doubtful look, wondering what he was up to. Knowing him, he was probably getting a snack. He squeezed his arm through to the bottom and let out a groan.
Mike anxiously pulled out a baseball-sized smoke bomb. “Got the tear gas.” It wasn’t exactly tear gas, but the general had told him it’d knock anybody out.
She quickly dug through Mike’s sack and grabbed a gas mask. “Don’t forget this.”
“Thanks.” He pulled it down over his face, resembling a giant insect. “I can’t breathe.” His eyes bulged as he clawed at his mask, frantic to get it off.
“Shhhh,” said Casey.
Thorn adjusted the straps around Mike’s mask. “Inhale through your mouth and exhale through your nose.”
Mike nodded. “Better. Thanks.”
Casey was surprised she could hear him through the mask, and he didn’t even sound like Darth Vader with a bad case of asthma. She pulled her own gas mask over her head and fastened the straps at the back. It felt snug and tight against her skin, and her breathing came low and labored like inhaling through a straw. She sucked hard, but her lungs screamed at the sudden lack of oxygen, and the right side of her head started to hammer. She took another breath and was glad she was starting to get the hang of it.
She crawled after Mike toward the open ship door.
“Now!” Thorn whispered.
Mike tossed the canister. “Special delivery!” The red ball landed inside with a thud. It hissed and spun, sending green smoke across the floor. The gas thickened as it rose around the guards, and they began to cough and choke, hitting the ground like heavy potato sacks.
“They’re down!” yelled Casey. “Can we go?”
Thorn grabbed her elbow. “Give it a minute to make sure.”
Hands trembling, Casey whipped out her gun and pointed at the door. They had no idea what kind of soldier might come running out. Even worse, she worried the gas might not work on all of them, especially if one of them was quick to slap down their visor.
“They’re going to be out cold,” whispered Mike.
“Don’t they say that in every bad science fiction flick? Any B movie star could tell you that,” she retorted. Taking chances was out of the question, because that was exactly what always got action heroes killed. “This is just in case they’re not.”
A chill ran up her spine as sh
e moved a finger on the trigger and swung her backpack over her shoulder. Swiftly, she started walking up the ramp and positioned herself by the entrance. She felt like an elusive member of the SWAT team, ready to storm in and raid the place. In spite of her racing pulse, she couldn’t resist the temptation to stick out one leg Tomb Raider-style, imagining herself just as hot. Of course, that didn’t matter, since she and Mike broke up, but it didn’t hurt to look good either way. She bit her lip, still trying to sooth herself with internal laughter to stifle the fear.
Peering inside, she stared down at the four limp bodies. Roswell, New Mexico flashed in her head. Allegedly, scientists had found a crashed spaceship with five dead aliens. She wondered if that was what it looked like when they boarded the craft and found the bodies. Their ribcages moved up and down as though they were in deep slumber, but she knew bad guys always pretend like that until one turns their back on them. With her heart jumping in her throat, she poked her boot into one’s side, then tried another. When they didn’t move, she lowered her hand and sighed with relief. She looked at Thorn, awaiting further instructions.
He motioned to both her and Mike. “Strip off their uniforms and put them on! You have to completely cover yourselves. Make sure the helmet’s on with the visor down. Tuck the gloves into your uniform sleeves. They mustn’t see a single patch of skin.”
A soldier’s finger twitched, and Casey jumped. She was sure there was no way she could go through with it. The sudden weight of a hand on her shoulder startled her. Thorn’s soft voice echoed behind her, and she spun around.
“You have to do this, because your friend’s life depends on it—not to mention billions of Earthlings.”
“You know, it’s freaky that you’re always reading my thoughts.” Casey waved a tiny swirl of smoke away.
Thorn motioned her over and opened his palm. Three silver square-shaped microchips lay in his hands.
She arched a brow. “What’s that for?”
“There’s an etched square on the bottom of each helmet visor. It’s a mouthpiece and microphone for communication. I’ll manipulate it with this chip, so you’ll sound identical to us when you talk.” Thorn stuck the microchip into the tiny control panel located in the back of the helmet, then passed it to Mike. He repeated the procedure for Casey. “The gas might still be lingering in the air. The toxic chemicals dissipate in five minutes. Just to be on the safe side, hold your breath when you take off the mask and slip on the helmet. Don’t inhale before you slide the visor down.”
“Got it, Mike?” She didn’t want to sound like his mother, but Mike was Mike, and listening wasn’t one of his talents. In fact, he was switched off more times than she could count.
Mike nodded. “I get it, Casey, but maybe you should be more worried about wearing this dark helmet. No way are we going to be able to see through it without tripping.”
He was right, and Casey bit her lip at the thought. It was like wearing her sunglasses in the house; at home, she would have bumped into walls or even stepped on her most faithful companion, Socks the cat.
Thorn slid his finger across the visor in his hands. “The special glass is made out of lysectimema. Nobody can see in, but you can see out. So don’t worry about stepping on fluffy gray and white cats.” He slipped on his helmet.
She let out a sigh. “Okay, problem solved. And Thorn, do I need to post a Keep Out sign in my head?”
“Sorry to intrude,” said Thorn. “Your thoughts just seem to drift over to mine.”
Casey eased the gas mask off and replaced it with the helmet. It snuggled just right on her head, and all she had to do was find the button to close the visor. She let her fingers glide along the sides, but she didn’t feel anything. Her lungs started to burn, running low on oxygen. Thorn had said the gas had likely dissipated, but that it was better to be safe than sorry. Her vision turned hazy, and she opened her mouth, ready to gasp for air, when she tasted something sickeningly sweet on her tongue.
With a flick of his hand, Mike pulled down her visor and smiled. As soon as it clicked in place, her vision sharpened into focus. Tiny specks of dirt on the metal floor caught her attention. She was surprised to find she could clearly see every tiny detail, just like the vampire vision she’d read about in novels. The technology was mind blowing. She inhaled greedily, then nodded, the taste still lingering on her tongue. Everything smelled like fingernail polish, and she wondered what chemical it was.
“Acetone, mixed with femirotana,” said Thorn.
“Boundaries, Thorn. Please quit jumping into my head,” she murmured, her gaze still focused on the unconscious guy on the floor. Hesitating, Casey knelt down and touched the soldier’s arm. He didn’t move, and she inched closer, peering at the distinct, large emblem of a yellow cross, an ankh.
All right. I can do this…for Jack. She marveled at how identical the being looked to Thorn as she tugged at the rebel’s boots. They slipped off, revealing small, stubby feet with four claw-like toes. And Mike had the nerve to make fun of her feet when she was barefoot at the beach. The feet before her now gave a whole new meaning to the words ugly and nasty.
Mike shot her a questioning look. She shrugged and pointed to the alien in front of him, signaling him to get to work.
“This is just crazy,” mumbled Mike.
She nodded, for once seeing his point rather than his need for drama. She imagined Jack lying on some old cot in a prison cell, and the thought of breaking him out gave her the strength she needed to carry on. She touched the creature’s green skin only long enough to get his arms out of the uniform. The skin felt unnaturally cold to the touch, almost as though she was holding her hand inside a fridge. Shivering, she pulled hard until the shiny black material slid down over the alien’s knees and past its feet.
“Well done,” said Thorn. “Now slip in.”
Still wearing her own clothes, she wriggled into the tight, one-piece uniform. She smoothed out the wrinkles, then strapped on her holster and put her gun away. Droplets like sweat slid off the aliens’ faces. Fluid seeped out of the slits that she presumed were their noses, as if they had some kind of alien flu. She hoped she wouldn’t catch some rare kind of sickness; if she somehow survived the ordeal, she was going to take a two-hour shower, scrub her skin with a scouring pad, and lather herself up with ten bottles of antibacterial soap, followed by a three-hour soak in a hot bath, and then repeat the process.
Thorn adjusted the collar of his uniform. “Remember our first objective. We need to find a door with a red triangle symbol. It’ll lead us to a computer. That’s the only way we’re going to find Jack and the weapon.”
“Okay, Thorn.” Casey jammed her feet into the small boots and winced. A day from three weeks earlier flashed in her head when she faced the painful consequences from wearing high heels all day for the first time. Her feet throbbed the same way now. She was sure the gas would’ve dissipated by now, so she flipped her visor up and down, marveling at how easy it seemed when she didn’t have to worry so much about holding her breath.
Mike tucked in Casey’s long braid. “Hey, don’t forget this.”
“Thanks.” Her voice echoed, as though her head was stuck inside a bucket.
She watched Mike try to slip on a pair of black gloves. He glanced up, his brows furrowed. “These don’t fit at all,” he said. “They’re made for three fingers, not five.”
“Shove two fingers in each hole. Then you should have a space for your thumb alone.”
He shot her a smile. “Oh, that works. Thanks. So do we pass inspection or what?”
Thorn scanned them from head to feet. “With flying colors. Let’s go.” He walked down the ramp, motioning them to follow.
Taking shorter steps in a heel-toe motion to get used to the new boots, she hurried to the other side of the docking center. Her toes felt squashed in, and she cringed several times until she realized distributing most of the weight across the ball of her foot helped ease the discomfort.
Thorn stopped and
pulled out something that looked like a laptop from his backpack. He opened it, pressed a few buttons, and then put it away.
“What cha doing?” asked Mike.
“It’ll jam the cameras for about fifteen minutes—not long, but enough for us to find a room where I can tap into their systems and fully disable security.”
“It buys us some time.” Casey pushed the door open and felt her eyes widen as she scanned the hall. The long, silver corridor was as wide as a four-lane highway. Strange, raised symbols and writing adorned the curved pristine walls. The floor appeared to be metallic, and soft light emanated from no obvious source.
Casey fought the overwhelming desire to return to the safety of the ship, where they could lock the doors and hide—or, better yet, just leave. They were in alien territory, and the realization struck her with full force. There would be no turning back. A few feet, and she’d be surrounded by aliens that wouldn’t sleep peacefully around her feet. She took a steadying breath and clenched her fists, summoning her courage from within as she focused her attention back to the room to ease her nerves.
The writing on the walls looked like the hieroglyphics Casey had seen when she’d traveled to Egypt with her parents. She remembered her tour guide saying the so-called gods came in flying boats. She had to wonder if the aliens had anything to do with the pyramids.
Mike ran a finger across the vertical and horizontal rows and columns of strange symbols. “I wonder what they say.”
Casey pointed to an ankh. “This one stands for life.”
“It’s all about death, revenge, and starting a new life,” said Thorn. “Their mumbo-jumbo’s everywhere.”
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