by John O'Brien
There’s a beeping sound as one of the people a foot below slides a keycard across the keypad, followed by a loud click as the magnetic lock releases.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Bullshit! I know you better than that you—”
The voices are cut off as the door closes and the lock engages.
I take my first deep breath. It’s not that I was holding it in but I was taking very shallow breaths to minimize any sound. My racing heart begins to subside after a moment, helped by the deep inhalations.
That was fucking close, I think, giving them some time to make sure that they don’t come back suddenly, one of them having discovered that they dropped their favorite good luck charm. I roll over and remove the tape. I then proceed to set up the recorder and have it run on a looped playback.
Satisfied that no one dropped their lucky charm, I remove several items from my pack, don it, and drop to the floor next to the wall. The lights are angled so that I’ll be fine with my shadow if I stay near the door and wall. I lean the ladder against the conduit and mentally place its position in my mind so I don’t accidentally bump it and tip it over. Overlooking small details like that have been known to ruin many a day.
The door on the bottom is sealed too tightly, so I don’t bother trying to put a fiber cam under it. It’s apparent that there is a reaction team that will respond and I’ll have to work quickly. And, although not alarmed, the security room personnel will now be more watchful. I remove a two-inch strip of magnesium and place it between the door and the jamb where the magnetic lock is.
Looking between the gap, I don’t see any magnetic sensors. The mag lock itself will notify anyone that the door has been opened, but there’s no way to avoid it if I want to get through. Digging into my fatigue pocket, I take out a flame torch. This is different than a lighter as the flame is barely visible and doesn’t cast any light. If I used a regular lighter or a match, the flare might cast a higher level of light and be seen in the camera. Lighting the magnesium strip, I place a ceramic coffee cup over it to cover the flare of light caused by the intense heat. If this were an inward opening door, the flare would be seen from the inside but the door stop prevents any light from leaking to the other side.
The strip burns quickly and I remove the cup stashing it in a pocket along with the lighter. The door still has some resistance but I yank it open and, grabbing the ladder, slide through. Quickly placing the ladder against the conduit on the other side, I take a rag sprayed with a diluted lemon juice mixture and wipe the walls, door jamb, lock mechanism, and door, to remove any char marks that the magnesium made. I then close the door and scale the ladder quickly, pulling it up with me. Taking a small spray bottle with diluted lemon-scented room deodorizer, I give a light spray like I was Febrezing the living room to remove any lingering burn smell.
I know it won’t be long until the reaction team shows up and I push myself a few yards down the conduits before coming to a stop. Almost level with me, florescent light fixtures hang from the concrete ceiling and extend down the inner hall. This hallway is long, being made to provide an escape tunnel that exits far away from the main facility, and the lights extend beyond my line of sight. Although they illuminate their immediate vicinity, they are spaced far enough apart that the corridor is cast in an overall gloom. I look to the top of the door I just entered and verify there isn’t a camera placed there. If I can manage to elude the guards who are surely going to show up, I will be inside the main facility. Not close to being where I need to go, but at least inside.
Without the door and walls blocking the way, and the fact that there is little to absorb any sound, I hear the response team approaching from a distance. Their boots ring on the concrete surface and, this time, there is no conversation. This is the second time they’ve been called out to the same location, so they are wary.
I can’t see them as I am pressed as flat as I can be between two conduits that are closest to the wall. I can tell they are more alert by the difference in their footsteps and by the lack of chatter that they previously exhibited. They aren’t trying to be quiet, but they aren’t exactly discussing their card game either.
“Okay, Walsh, we’re here. What’s up now?”
“It’s like I said, the monitor showed the door being opened a few minutes ago,” I hear a voice state over a radio.
I hear a bump against the opening bar. “It’s closed now. Are you sure it wasn’t us entering before?”
Their demeanor is different and more professional. It’s like I thought, they aren’t alarmed or on high-alert, but they are definitely cautious.
“No. I have that recorded. This alert came about ten minutes after,” the radio voice says.
“Okay. I don’t see anything, but we’ll check it out. Jenkins, you and Graham go check the outside door.”
I hear the door opening as I presume the two head through it on their way to check the door. If they check any farther it will, again, show that the camera isn’t working. They’ll go on high-alert and begin searching the building. If that happens, our mission is done for and I’ll be hard-pressed to escape. However, there’s nothing I can do about that now. Taking shallow breaths, I will myself to complete stillness. Flashlight beams pan along the ceiling and along the outer edges of the pipes. Slowly moving my hand, I rest it on the butt of my Beretta.
If the soldiers searching below me decide to jump or otherwise check out the tops of the conduits, it won’t be hard to find me. If they do, I’ll draw and fire. They’ll more than likely have armor vests on so I’ll have to go for the head. If I survive, I’ll make a run for the outside door, taking the two out on my way. I’ll have surprise on my side, so it shouldn’t be difficult providing the distance isn’t too far.
Beams continue to pan along the corridor and I feel my heart beating in my ears and neck, my blood pressure increasing with the tension. The group below me, four of them to judge from the number of flashlights, walk down the hallway playing their lights on the walls and ceiling. They continue for a distance before returning.
The click of the magnetic lock signals the return of the other two. I’m guessing they didn’t venture outside or I would have heard something over the radio, aside from an increase in activity.
“We didn’t see anything,” one of them reports.
“Did you check around outside?”
“No, we just checked the door and it was locked.”
I hear the one who seems to be the team leader sigh. “Okay, never mind. Walsh, did you note anything on the door outside? Do you have an alert that it was opened?”
“No. There’s nothing to indicate that it was opened,” the radio voice states.
“I’m thinking it could be the same glitch down on this end. I suppose it could be something electrical. I don’t see anything here and we’ve checked almost the entire length of the hall. There’s nowhere anything could be hiding.”
“Alright, I’ll note the door and cameras in the maintenance log and have them checked in the morning.”
“Say, do you guys smell something?” one voice questions.
“No. What’s it smell like?” another asks.
“I don’t know. It was there for a second. Wait, there it is again. It smells like, I don’t know, lemon?” the first voice says.
“Wait, yeah. Now it’s gone. Jenkins, are you putting on cologne again trying to get that corporal’s attention?”
“Fuck you guys.”
I feel a small amount of relief as their dialogue heads back to the good-natured conversation they had earlier. That means they’ve gone back to being at ease. However, I’ll have to be more careful from here on out as any further ‘glitches’ will put them on high-alert. Their voices fade as they make their way back down the hall.
I let out another sigh of relief and take several deep breaths. This isn’t simple by a long shot, but it sure is a hell of a lot easier than it was going into the night runner lair to get Lynn. I guess it helps if you don’t
have inhabitants that can smell what you stepped in four days ago or hear your organs as they process chemicals. And, to me at least, humankind is more predictable than, and not as relentless as, the night runners. If these had been night runners, they wouldn’t have let up until they found me.
Lying on the conduits, I suppose I should feel a touch of exhilaration at getting inside the main facility, but what I feel is tired and drained. I send a message to Robert and quietly stash my gear back into my pack. Refocusing, I lock the tired away into a compartment. Moving my gear ahead of me, I bend my knees and, pushing up with my elbow and side of my heel, I move another foot down the pipes.
It’s a long arduous process, slowly passing from one light fixture to the next, from reflected light to gloom. The fixtures become both my mark of progress and my next goal. Being designed to exit far from the main facility, the tunnel is naturally a long one. As tedious as the crawl along the pipe is, pausing along the way for periodic rests, it also serves to create some time between the noticed events and hopefully reduces the alert level of the security personnel. I’m guessing so as no one else has entered the tunnel since checking the door.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I think, reaching the end of the corridor; or at least the end of the long tunnel.
My arms and legs are stiff and aching from the exertion. The tunnel takes a right and, using my mirror to peer around the corner, I see that it takes an almost immediate left. The conduits, for whatever reason, proceed across the hall at my location before continuing to follow the path of the hallway. At the juncture where it bends to the left again, a steel door with a wire mesh window is set within the wall with a sign above denoting ‘Security’. Above the door is another camera pointed down to the ground at the entrance.
The pipes are on the opposite side of the hall to the camera, which will make it interesting to install a rigged switch. I’ll be able to reach it if I lean outward, but that will make me visible to anyone approaching the room. I double-check the camera angle before pulling the mirror back to ensure that it won’t spy me crossing the hall across the top of the conduits.
Settling away from the corner, I mentally run through the scene and my next steps. I’ll need to set up a similar loop recording, make sure the hall is clear, drop down and bypass the door, then proceed in, eliminate the personnel within, set the proper monitors inside on playback, notify the teams, and hold off until they arrive.
Seems simple enough, I think facetiously, shaking my head.
I take a few moments, visualizing the steps over and over in my head. My heart is pounding solidly in my chest. I think about turning back as every nerve in my body is thrumming from the tension. Getting here has been the easy part compared with what’s coming next. I wish there was a way I could take out the reaction squad without anyone knowing, but I just don’t see a way to do it and remain undetected, let alone remain alive. I seriously contemplate giving it up. However, I don’t see a viable alternative than to proceed.
I continue wrestling with my opposing thoughts. I know that inching across the hall on the pipes will constitute a go-no go decision for me mentally. Making that first move is difficult as this is the part where too many variables come into play. Not to mention that a bit of luck will be necessary to pull this off, most of that coming from no one showing up at the security room while I’m inside. At least it’s only me at this point.
Okay, Jack, come on. You’ve done this before, I think, steeling myself to continue. This is a no-brainer. You know what needs to be done and how to do it. I calm my racing mind, Settle down, focus on the next task at hand. There is nothing but the next thing.
I hold the visualization of accomplishing each step firmly in my head. I recheck my gear as a final step and check the hallway and room once again. It’s all clear. From my angle, I can only see a linoleum floor through the window of the security door. There aren’t shadows of anyone moving inside, only the florescent shine of lights.
Lifting myself once again, feeling the ache in my arms as they resist further movement, I crawl across the hall. My eyes alternate between placing my gear and body, and the light emitting from the window. A few quick pushes and I’m across. I listen for any doors opening or footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. I don’t know what’s around the corner as yet but, keeping in mind the diagram Harold found, the corridor should continue for a short distance ending with a door entering into the large equipment bay, around which the whole bunker is built. There should also be a branching hallway about halfway down with other rooms opening off from it.
It’s a short crawl to the next corner. With the way the conduits are situated, stretching nearly across the hallway, I can’t see much. Setting my pack to the side, I grab another switch assembly. Listening intently and not hearing anything, I lean out from the pipes making sure to keep myself from the front of the camera. The florescent lights are spaced such that I don’t cast any shadows from my position. With one hand braced on the far wall, I place the device. In this precarious position, I have to be careful that I don’t slip. Below me, there is a loud click as the magnetic lock of the door disengages.
The door, just seemingly inches below me opens and a guard steps out. I freeze in mid-action, one hand against the wall and my other holding onto the device. My breath catches in my throat as the guard is just a little over a foot and a half directly under me. My sight is filled with the top of his head. Beads of sweat form on my face and I don’t know how he can’t hear my heartbeat.
Holding the door open, he turns back inside. My shoulder is screaming from holding my body up with my hand on the wall; my stomach muscles trembling.
“Did you make the annotations in the maintenance log?” the man below me asks into the room.
“Yeah,” someone inside answers.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a bit.”
The man steps away and the door begins swinging slowly closed. It’s a good thing I had my fatigue top tucked in as the tails would have brushed the top of his head were it hanging out. He passes under me muttering something so far under his breath that even I can’t pick out the words. I keep a close eye on him as he walks down the hall. All I need right now if for him to have forgotten something and turn back. There’s no way he’d miss me looking from his present position.
With the pneumatic hinge holding the door, it eases shut ever so slowly. Just before it closes, still holding the device, I inch my hand down and place my finger between the jamb and the door. This will keep the door from closing and engaging the magnetic lock. The sound may make the guard turn. That’s just human instinct, to turn toward a sound even if we know what it is. I can’t hold if for long as a lot of security doors will also have an alarm if it’s left open for too long. The guard turns to the left down the hallway that leads to the other rooms. I remove my finger and the door closes, the magnetic lock reengaging. Somewhere down the hall, I faintly here a door open and close.
I place the gadget on the wall and look to the hall where the guard disappeared. ‘I’ll be right back’ rings in my head. I wish I could see into the room better to get a clearer picture of the layout and how many are in there. A plan forms. I finish setting up the gadget and push back to the pipes, donning my pack. Although the guard damn near caught me with my pants down, it may actually work to my advantage.
On the edge of the pipes between the two hallway corners, I lay on my side with my suppressed Beretta in my hand, listening for the sound of the guard returning. It takes a while but, even though I don’t hear the door he went through opening, I do hear his footsteps echoing off the walls. I hear the beep of the keypad next to the door and the lock clicks. Disregarding my pounding heartbeat, I roll off the conduits.
The guard swings the door open as I hit the ground just behind him. He starts to turn at the sound but I shove him through the door before he gets the chance. He stumbles inside with a yelp and I follow hard on his heels. I instantly take in the surroundings; a wall of monitors opposite the door
with a bank of equipment in racks to the left. Sitting in front of the monitors are two additional guards who turn at the sound of their comrade. Without hesitation, I lift my handgun and fire.
I send two rounds into each of the guards whose surprise is short-lived. One guard crashes backward into the controls from two rounds impacting his cheek and nose. He then topples to the ground leaving a red smear across the control board. The second is spun around in his chair as two projectiles slam into his neck and mouth, spraying blood into the air. He falls heavily to the floor beside his overturned chair.
Rounding on the third guard, who is recovering from his stumble and starting to reach for his own handgun, I fire point blank into his forehead. His head rocks sharply backward and stops. It then moves slowly forward as if he doesn’t know that he’s already dead and is trying to right it. He then slumps to his knees and falls face forward. The door behind me closes with a click.
The second guard, hit in the throat and mouth is gurgling, air bubbles forming from the holes in his throat and mouth. Noting that these guards aren’t wearing armored vests, I walk over and pump two rounds into his chest. His shirt flutters upward from the striking bullets and his wheezing/gurgling ceases.
I look overhead at the door to see if they have a camera installed inside and I’m glad to see that there isn’t one. There are dozens of monitors filling the wall above a control panel. Most are from the fence line but others show the interior. I see the ones of the hallway I just crept through playing through their loopbacks. They don’t look any different than the others with regards to quality and look natural. One monitor shows a room with several guards sitting around a table playing cards. I assume those are the ones who responded to the doors and cameras. Another monitor shows a location that looks like a control room for a space launch center with manned consoles and several large screens to the front. I continue to look but, other than the ones mentioned, I don’t see anyone moving around. Unfortunately, after looking over all of the feeds, I don’t see any depicting a barracks or where the majority of the security personnel are staying.