Darkness Trilogy (Book 1): Winds of Darkness

by Alexander, Lee

  A moment later, the doors lurched and the crowbar slipped. Larry pulled his hands back in time to keep his fingers from being smashed by the doors clanging shut. I looked over to see Castillo once again shushing me.

  I wanted to give him the finger, but he was right. We needed to be quiet in case something tried to sneak up. I stuck the crowbar in again and once more leaned into pulling the doors open. This time, the crowbar didn’t slip and Larry was able to get his fingers in.

  I settled the crowbar on the ground, trying to minimize sound, then dug my hands into the doors as well. Together, we heaved. The doors shuddered and groaned, refusing to give way. Then something cracked, and the doors slid slowly open.

  “Chen, spreader bar,” ordered Castillo. I determined Chen was the fourth member. He shrugged something off of his back and fiddled with it for a moment. Then I was handed a bar just over a meter long.

  I looked it over, and noticed a little pincer like attachment on one end. Flipping it over, I saw the same at the other end. I shrugged and handed the far end to Larry. We began to set the device at waist height.

  The doors were easy enough to hold open, but it was still draining. Once we had the bar in place between the doors, it made a snick sound. Little tendrils came out of the pincers and it centered itself between the doors.

  I let go, as did Larry. The bar didn’t budge.

  “Impressive. You guys have some cool toys.”

  “Only the best for Uncle Sam’s favorites,” replied Thompson drolly.

  “So there’s one white guy, two Mexicans, and a Chinese guy on your team?”

  “Wow, ignorance much? I’m Irish, first generation American. Castillo is Dominican, definitely not Mexican. And even though I’m sure Velasquez would love to cut you like a Mexican for your idiotic statement, he’s Brazilian. Lucky for you he’s not an off duty cop. Chen... fuck I don’t even know. I think he’s Vietnamese, but he doesn’t say much.”

  “Yeah, my bad. Chen sounds like my friend the giant here.”

  Larry gently punched my shoulder. It still felt like being slapped by a ham hock.

  “Ow. Fine. Sorry guys. What’s the next step?”

  “Done fucking around? Work’s about to start for real,” said Castillo. It was hard to say for sure thanks to the mask, but there might have been some humor in his voice.

  I nodded and stood out of the way. Larry followed my example. Velasquez and Thompson shrugged their ropes to the floor. Castillo explained while they set up.

  “The shaft is about sixty-two meters long, or two-hundred feet. We prefer a little extra for safety. So these are hundred meter lines. The guys are going to anchor them—”

  As he spoke I watched Thompson and Velasquez each raise a hand up high, noting that Thompson raised his left. A small black object was held in each hand. They struck straight down, causing a weird cracking sound. A whir followed, followed by a small chirp from the devices.

  “The anchors dig into the concrete and set secondary anchors. The line and anchors are each rated to three thousand pounds. We’ll be going three to a line, and shouldn’t even hit a thousand on each line.”

  Thompson and Velasquez stood, and I noticed both were about the same height as me. Without boots and helmets, maybe five-nine. They were lean but hard, as were the other two. Sierra Foxtrot indeed.

  They walked to the elevator shaft and threw the ropes down. I could hear it spooling out and thumping against the walls for an unusually long time.

  A second later Velasquez took a plastic-sheathed item out of a pocket and cracked it. He shook it for a moment, then ripped the plastic off. Two sticks were glowing in his hand. He tossed them down the shaft. The glow disappeared from the walls less than a second later.

  What seemed an eternity later, the sound of the glowsticks hitting something far below echoed up. Even after two weeks, I still hadn’t grown used to the silence inside the city.

  Castillo handed me a little device attached to a belt. I strapped it on, and waited for further orders.

  “These are your belays. Let them do the work. Don’t go too fast or it’ll stop you cold. We have a hundred feet of parking garage to get past, then a hundred feet of rock. The elevator should be resting at the bottom. We crack the access hatch, then open the elevator doors. Should be easy going after that.”

  “Copy. Who’s first,” I asked.

  “I’ll go left, Chen right. Then I want you and Mason, then Velasquez and Thompson taking rear.”

  We each clipped on, then Castillo and Chen went over the edge and into the dark shaft beyond.

  23

  June 27, 2033

  Seattle, Washington, USA

  First floor, Illeni Building

  -61°F

  2225 Hours

  I lowered myself into the elevator shaft. I trusted my weight against the insubstantial device at my waist, and let go of the ledge. Larry was right next to me. We started walking down the walls of the shaft to give the last two room to join us.

  Castillo and Chen were already more than twenty feet ahead of us. I stayed at a regular pace to keep them about that far away. I figured they knew how to pace themselves to prevent fatigue.

  A moment later I walked down the first elevator door, listening as my feet thumped against the hollow metal. Nearly two centuries after the first elevator was invented, little had changed. The mechanisms were smoother, the metals used were lighter, and overall it was safer.

  However, we still used doors that could be kicked in by a teenager if they so desired. It warped and bowed under my weight. I continued walking down, clearing that door a moment later.

  Wind was a constant sound beyond the doors. I remembered someone mentioning the parking garage was trashed by the storms. I thought it strange the wind was so audible, especially after the storms had ended.

  “Hey, Castillo, you hear anything?”

  I heard him pause, and became aware of my own breathing as it echoed in the shaft. I could hear the other five breathing as well.

  “No, why—” Castillo began.

  Then a roar erupted from a floor farther below me. I looked down and watched Castillo jump to the side. Chen wasn’t quite as fast.

  The elevator doors burst inwards, warping on contact as one of the Xeno’s bodies slammed into them. The door clipped Chen, throwing him into the wall of the shaft. He slumped.

  Both doors rattled down the shaft, even as the creature swung an arm and grabbed onto Chen. Castillo started shouting, his rifle already in his hand as he tried to get a shot.

  The distinct sound of Chen’s belay breaking would stay with me for the rest of my life. Just a metallic pop. He never even screamed, though the Xeno did.

  I cringed as I listened to their bodies impact the elevator with a wet thud three seconds later. The roof of the car crumpling with a metallic screech.

  A few seconds later, another, louder thump sounded. I guessed the elevator stands gave out due to the sudden impact. That was what they were designed for, after all.

  “We’ll see if we can do anything for him when we get down there. Move on.” Castillo’s voice was emotionless. I had no hope for Chen either.

  I skirted the open door. I realized that when I paused to ask the question of Castillo, they had paused right there. It was my fault Chen had fallen.

  I put that aside, knowing I couldn’t freeze up. Larry happened to be looking at me as I looked over. It was just a split second, but I could tell he was trying to tell me it wasn’t my fault. I knew he was right. At least, intellectually.

  The rest of the descent was quiet. About thirty feet after the last elevator door, the cement transitioned to rock.

  It took another three minutes to get to the bottom of the shaft. It was a grizzly scene. The roof of the elevator had caved in, thankfully hiding most of the two bodies from sight.

  Ichor glistened wetly on the smooth rock walls. It had swirling patterns, though I suspected that meant it was not just ichor I was seeing.

  One
boot was still sticking out of the top, along with part of the tail of the creature. Castillo crouched on the roof of the car, still clipped onto the line. He checked the boot, but didn’t try any further.

  I understood what that meant as I lowered myself onto the car as well. I let him have as much space as I could while I set to work with Larry to pry the doors open.

  It took a few tries to get enough grip on the doors with my gloves. Once I had a firm grip, I hauled back to allow Larry to get a grip. Chen had the crowbar in his pocket when he fell.

  Once we had enough of an opening, Velasquez handed down another spreader bar. I placed it at the top of the doors, since the bottom was inaccessible anyway.

  The frame extended about two feet beyond the top of the crushed car. It would be a tight squeeze for any of us. Larry was definitely going to struggle a bit getting through.

  I could see him contemplate staying behind, but the company wasn’t exactly good for conversation. I squeezed through first, followed by Larry. Then Thompson and Velasquez came through.

  Velasquez stood at the door, quietly talking to Castillo. That went on for a minute, then Velasquez stepped back. A moment later, Castillo crawled through the opening feet first.

  We turned as a group and looked down the hallway that stretched out in front of us. The lights barely reflected off of a door, about a hundred feet ahead. A tiny red light off to the side glittered like a malevolent eye.

  We set off, slow and alert. The air was thick with humidity. It was significantly warmer this far below the surface. I guessed that at more than a hundred feet below the surface, it was nearly forty degrees in the hallway. I wondered why there wasn’t a deep puddle at the bottom of the rough-hewn hallway.

  As we approached the ten foot by ten-foot blast doors, I finally noticed a series of small vents down where the walls met the floor. I figured it would be a great way to potentially collect additional water for the otherwise closed system.

  The red light turned out to be a badge reader. I dug the little badge out of my pocket and held it up to the black plastic of the reader. A small buzz sounded from the reader, and the light changed to green.

  Rumbling sounded from behind the walls, distant and muted by rock. A moment later the doors started to slide soundlessly back, exposing another airlock like chamber. Light washed out through the widening crack. It stood ten feet deep and had metal on all sides.

  Three lights adorned the ceiling. The middle one was burned out. The similarities ended there, however.

  Where there had once been a set of inner doors, now stood scarred and scorched metal. It was peeled down at the top, curled in toward us from the force of whatever had happened.

  The massive blast doors began to close and the rest of the team stepped in with me.

  There was a badge reader inside, but there was no red light. I tried the reader anyway, but nothing happened. I put the badge inside my pocket.

  I looked up at the tiny gap. None of the others would fit in their combat gear. Larry would never fit.

  “Well, what now?”

  They all looked with me at the gap at the top of the door. I had a sinking feeling in my gut.

  24

  June 27, 2033

  Seattle, Washington, USA

  230 feet under the Illeni Building

  -61°F

  2300 Hours

  “Fuck you Larry,” I said for what must have been the tenth time. He didn’t react. Instead, he pushed my feet harder. My shirt was snagged on the blackened frame of the door.

  My hands were against either door, as I tried to simultaneously keep all of my weight off of the sharp metal and push myself through the gap. I pushed again, and my shirt gave out with a rip.

  I slid through the rest of the way, tumbling gracelessly to the floor. I rolled when I hit, so the eight-foot fall didn’t hurt much. Thankfully, the air was pretty warm and I didn’t need my jacket.

  How I was going to get out of the bunker was another question entirely. Even if the rest of the team took the time to take their combat gear off, only Velasquez was small enough to fit through the gap. We were still stuck with one person needing to find a way out.

  I looked around the room. None of the overhead lights were working. I could make out shapes in the dim light cast from a myriad of machines.

  “Hey, toss my flashlight in guys.”

  I heard them talking for a moment, before a shout reverberated back to me.

  “What?”

  The voice was so distorted by the metal and narrow gap I wasn’t sure who had said it.

  “Should have brought radios for all of us,” I muttered to myself.

  I turned to look directly at the gap and cupped my hands around my mouth. I shouted ‘Flashlight’ back to them.

  Another moment passed, then a dark object sailed effortlessly through the gap. I reached up and caught it with one hand. I turned back to the bunker at large and flicked the light on.

  The sight that greeted me was ghastly. I reflexively inhaled at the sight and choked on the fumes that lingered.

  The roof sloped upward from where I stood to a central position, ending twenty feet above. The room had to be at least a hundred feet long across the central line.

  Bodies lay crumpled all over. There had to have been another twenty people in the bunker. An explosion had clearly rent the space, tossing debris and body parts everywhere.

  A large tower stood in the middle of the open space, like a dot inside a plus. It was clear the tower had been the source of the explosion. Metal shielding had been placed on the tower, but some of it had been blasted away.

  I could see at least one unfortunate soul impaled by a fragment of the shield. Inside the tower sparks could be seen dancing every few seconds. That was the only source of light. I walked toward the center of the room.

  Consoles stood at each corner of the plus, like a quarter of a circle. The plus bisected the circle, giving the room a pleasing layout. The consoles were all trashed, destroyed by the explosion. Little bits of paper were strewn everywhere. Nothing moved.

  I started exploring. One door led to a sort of dormitory with rooms. A quick peek showed nothing particularly interesting, though it seemed everyone had had their own room. The rooms continued for some distance. There had been enough room for at least four times as many people in the bunker.

  The second door led to a mess hall with enough room to fit everyone outside. It seemed everybody had been working when the explosion occurred.

  The third door was blocked by a woman in a sharp business suit. Her exposed skin was blackened by fire. A large cut had nearly severed her head. Metal shielding still sat embedded in the door. I gently eased her body out of the way. She wasn’t quite cold, but she was no warmer than the room itself.

  I steeled myself as she flopped lifelessly to the ground. Her head lolled to the side, exposing the terrible wound that had ended her life. I turned away and immediately opened the door to escape the foul air and horrid scene.

  The door opened to offices, much like the dorm. I stood just inside the hallway, calming myself for a moment. Once I felt a little less shaken, I started exploring again.

  Instead of beds and dressers I found desks and cabinets. The last door in the hallway was locked, though it was otherwise the same as the others.

  I knew I couldn’t leave the bunker empty handed, and this was the only room that had been different from the rest. I turned away from the door and mule kicked it near the handle.

  The door was sturdier than I was expecting, but two more kicks caused the door to break open. I stepped inside to find a larger office with an imposing desk and an extra filing cabinet.

  Papers were scattered on the desk, like someone was reading them when they left in a hurry. I surmised that the woman that had been blocking the door had been the owner of the office.

  I quickly glanced over the papers on the desk. They had been working until just that afternoon, if the paperwork was correct. Based on the time noted a
t the bottom of the centered sheet, it was before the first explosion we had heard, far above, earlier that day.

  I read the note she had jotted down.

  ‘Reactor showing instability, technicians requesting assistance with unusual readings. Will intervene.’

  Her computer was as dead as everything else in the bunker. I didn’t think I had time to tear the hard drive out of the computer, especially since it seemed to be custom mounted inside the desk.

  I did find a small portable drive about the size of my pinky nail near some access ports. I slipped the drive into one pocket, hoping it wouldn’t become lost. I searched through the remaining paperwork, but only one additional sheet held anything of interest.

  It seemed that one of the dishes on top of the building had been for satellite communication. It had held up fairly well, but the last transmission was dated just one day after darkness fell.

  The transmission was garbled as if interrupted by the storm. It read ‘intercepted... -sion. Plans in eff-... no further word. Re’

  The message was short and cryptic. I couldn’t fathom what it meant. Below the message was a handwritten note.

  ‘Dish destroyed during receipt of message. Data scrambled. Crew above unresponsive. Assuming full team lost.’

  I glanced through the paperwork one more time. Frustrated, I gave up. There hadn’t been anything here after all. I put all of my hope into the drive I now held. Maybe that would shed some light on the situation. I did wonder what team they mentioned, but it was possible that our office was the team in question.

  As I turned to leave, the flashlight caught a poster on the wall. It was a line drawing of the tower in the middle of the bunker. The poster was impressively sized, at six feet wide by three tall.

  The poster was marked in the corner. ‘MF Electrical Generator, Mark 2’. I wondered what MF could stand for. A second image was next to it. It was three times smaller, at two feet by one. It had miniature markings on it.