Quagmire's Gate

by Allan E Petersen

  “Pilot, have you contacted Deep Lab 6?”

  “No Doctor. I tried but it seems they too are on blackout as well.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go there then. Can you turn around?”

  “No Doctor, that’s not possible. We are red lined for fuel as it is. My return fuel is waiting for me at our destination. Besides, if something was wrong, I should be getting an abort order from my base at Fort Lincoln. I understand your concern Doctor but our options are severely limited at this point. We have reached a point of no return. My only other option is to land in the desert and I am not prepared to request fuel trucks coming out there for us. Besides, it is only speculation on your part that something is wrong. It is not like we are in enemy territory. We’ll be there in a matter of minutes.”

  Lynda does not know why her thoughts suddenly sprang to Terri. She felt a lot better knowing that her daughter was safe in Paris. The Professor again looked to her with a very bothersome expression. He added to his dire prediction,

  “Something bad”

  Chapter 22

  Governor Sheltie was very proud to be the youngest Governor of the state. He won the election by the largest majority in the state’s history. Handsome to the point of resembling an Adonis, he did not care some claimed he got the winning votes from those who did not care to understand his electoral platform or impossible promises, only gaining the position because of massive financial support and a winning smile. As it turned out, a winning smile was his only political capability.

  He had just come back from the Astrophysical Securities Council meeting over at Fort Lincoln and decided to work off some anxiety on the tennis court at the back of the Governor’s Mansion. As was the bane of politicians, the Press showed up a few minutes later to ask him why he had vetoed a Bill. Wanting the cameras to show the tennis court in the background, he wiped sweat from his forehead, smiled and spewed forth well practiced reasons and excuses for the Veto.

  While basking in the glow of the camera and making sure the tennis court was in the background he saw his secretary approach. Although she generally knew better than to distract him from the photographers, this time she dared to take the risk. While handing him a note, she bravely smiled at the cameras. He glanced at the paper and suddenly dropped his forged smile. The note read, ‘Code Gate’.

  Suddenly he was presented with a situation he did not know how to handle. His conundrum was to either pay attention to the photographers or snap to the hailing Code Gate demand. Which was more important? His membership in the secret cult got him this position but the press fed his massive ego. He knew what he had to do. He flashed a smile and apologized.

  “Gentlemen it appears that I have been summoned to official duty. You will excuse me of course.”

  Tossing the towel onto the back of his desk chair, he gracefully slid into it. The laptop was flipped open. On the screen was the signal that demanded immediate and full attention, ‘Code Gate’, a code for ‘your eyes-only’. After a furtive glance around the room he anxiously keyed in the appropriate code. When the computer unscrambled and accepted the code, he looked to the penholder on his desk and made sure its position was straight up. It was a sign that the secret recorder was turned off.

  It took only a few seconds for the scrambling image to take shape and there on the screen was a stern looking General Irsthill. The Governor was high ranked, certainly over that of a General but this was not the army. In this secret organization, there was no doubt that General Irsthill far out ranked the Governor. The Governor was not pleased to see the angry look about his boss.

  As the red light on the screen turned green, Governor Sheltie prepared for the admonishment he was sure he was going to get. However, as soon as General Irsthill peered into his camera and saw the reflecting Governor, his expression changed to one of delight. The Governor was very leery about the sudden mood change. He understood his leader well enough to know what he drank for breakfast.

  The General’s rasping voice rolled off an alcohol soaked breath. He said,

  “Governor. I presume you have seen this mysterious message some of our members have received or have you been too busy with your career?”

  He was forced to displease his leader by pleading ignorance of any message.

  “No General, I just got back from the meeting this afternoon and have received no messages from the group.”

  “Very well, go to page seven on your private messages, Code Gate. I bring this to your attention because you are in a better position to trace it than I am from this wretched lab here at Deep Lab 6. I am concerned that there might be a plot afoot to close the hole, our gate to the Under. Trace it. Find out who this is and get back to me immediately.”

  Relieved that he was not going to be yelled at, the Governor bid farewell to the General and accessed the coded page. It should be easy enough to trace an E-mail transmission. Coding into his private page he saw the message the General was so concerned about. Although it meant nothing to him, he was willing to accept his master’s order to trace the communication by his rotating satellite authority.

  Before keying in his tracing authority, he read the message again. It did not make any sense.

  ‘Will turn off in trade for pilot’.

  It meant nothing to him. However, the great one had spoken and so fingers flew across the keyboard. The screen opened to reveal a large room filled with civilians bent over keyboards all busily typing with eyes glued to their screen. Row after row of operators were as if one with their computers.

  A civilian’s face appeared on the screen. She was a younger woman and although dressed in civvies there is no doubt of her military candor. With short black hair and a tone equally short she snapped,

  “What is it Governor?”

  “I am going to send you an email received in my private file and want it traced.”

  She was indifferent to the authority and snapped,

  “We are very busy here Governor, perhaps your local FBI might better serve you.”

  He was equal in abruptness.

  “Perhaps but that doesn’t mean I am not in a position to demand time from this branch. Under ‘Code Gate’, I am ordering you to place a high priority to this search and get back to me immediately.”

  Recognizing the authority behind ‘Code Gate’, she snapped into action. She said,

  “Very well, send the original message to me through this secure channel as well as all other communication within twenty four hours of receiving it. I will also need the access codes of the computer that received the message.”

  That was something he was not prepared to do. Although she was a trusted member of the cult, she was low ranked and therefore not privy to higher communiqué. Yet, he recognized the importance of tracing this message. He understood that she was requesting other secret messages because there was a chance this one came through on a rider. Reluctantly he transmitted the codes and trusted her to perform her duty for the Lord of the Under.

  She was a supervisor, not a communication tracer specialist. For that reason, she pulled the Flash Drive and walked down the endless rows of humans so intent on their computer screens that they did not notice her. She finally stopped and put her hand on the shoulder of a young man wearing glasses ostensibly thicker than the lens of a robot. Without looking up, he instinctively knew who was touching him. He continued to pound the keys while she commanded,

  “Drop it. We have a request for a ‘Code Gate’ trace.”

  There was no question and no hesitation. His screen instantly went blank. With eyes still glued to the screen, he sat waiting further orders. She handed him the Flash Drive and snapped,

  “Access Code, Gov.Gate. Other-of-man and trace this transmission.”

  His blurry fingers produced a macabre dance across the keyboard. Eventually he reported,

  “It was not sent through acceptable channels. It looks like it went through a World Web matrix owned by an international conglomerate. However, there is no way of tracing it
. It could have originated from any one of the hundreds of satellites orbiting up there, including our own.”

  She was confused. How was that possible? She snapped,

  “With the computers we have here, we can trace a cricket rubbing its legs together in Africa. Are you telling me you have no way of tracing this transmission?”

  He tried to defend the failure.

  “Each of the communication satellites has its own internal codes and each in turn is capable of receiving and decoding millions of codes. You literally have to go up there and access each satellite’s mother board to get a triangulation. Even at that, it is possible to disguise each code with riders. Plus, if whoever sent this message is that good, they’d be capable of erasing all routes to them anyway.”

  She was quick to understand the impossibility. Somebody was capable of sending a message to Deep Lab 6 and was a genius in hiding the source. Whoever sent the message seemed determined and equally brilliant not to be located. The Governor was not going to be pleased to hear this. He took great delight in lambasting his Code Gate subordinates. Through their codes, she called him back. She was right. Upon hearing that the message was untraceable, he became extremely angry. It took a few minutes before she could get a defensive word through the blaring chastisement.

  A shaky tone reported the failure to the General. After another pull on the bottle, the General seemed surprisingly tolerant of the incompetence.

  “Very well Governor, I suppose that is the best you can do with the idiocy that surrounds you. I will try through other channels later. Thanks to your warning that armed forces are coming from Fort Lincoln to secure the facility and remove me from command. I have been able to commence defensive measures in time. Although I wanted the Gate of the Under to get bigger, I think we should move quickly. The Governor almost dropped his water bottle. Could it be true or was the General upset at his failure and he was playing with him? After a moment of silence, the General added,

  “You know what you have to do.”

  Governor Sheltie had spent most of his life and all of his fortune seeking this office and now regretted having to leave everything behind. His office with the posh chair and elaborate desk was suggestive of a man of his great power. Who knew where that power could have taken him? The Presidency was most certainly in his sights. All those aspirations have now come to an abrupt end.

  All worldly power and ambition now mean nothing. The Gate had been discovered and the ‘other of man’ had been acquired for the sacrifice to the Under Lord. For as was written in the Book of the Under,‘Because I am equal to the Creator, no man shall come to me other than the way he was created.’

  That phrase was interpreted by the followers of the Book of the Under to mean, come to me void of all worldly possessions. None may come to the Lord of the Under having ties to this Upper World, material or emotional.

  Governor Sheltie’s home had always been a source of great pride to him. It stood on top of a grassy knoll of Bluegrass overlooking a thousand acres of rolling cotton fields. The mansion had been in his family for generations, leading back to the era of cotton plantations of the great south. To this day, it still produced enough bolts of cotton to keep him in the style his past generations had been accustomed.

  In his bedroom, as he looked in the mirror and straightened a slightly skew bow tie, he saw his wife on the bed behind him. How peaceful she looked. How beautiful she had always been in his eyes. To the image in the mirror he said,

  “Sleep my beloved. The place you are in now is far greater than the one that is coming to this world.”

  She looked so peaceful, so much in a state of dreams. He walked up to the edge of the bed, looked at her serenity, and remembered happier times. He ignored the blood trickling from a bullet hole to her temple soaking into the white silk pillow. Coldly, oblivious of the heinous crime, he turned his back and walked away.

  At the bottom of the great oaken staircase, in the cavernous foyer, he met his nemesis, the much-hated old servant of his wife. He had always suspected her of theft and gossip. As he approached, he saw in her glaring eyes that the feeling was mutual. As he passed with as much indignity as possible, he casually said,

  “Will you please wait for my wife to finish her nap? She apparently has something for you to do.”

  Her only acknowledgement was a stiff nod. He watched as the old hag slowly waddled into the living room.

  There are three cars in front of the mansion. His favorite was the black Lincoln Continental. It was a gift from his dear wife congratulating him on his electoral Governorship. The other was his wife’s car, a new white Saturn with blue interior. As much as he hated that car, he never voiced that feeling knowing how much she loved it. The third car was his official black limousine complete with driver.

  The Chauffeur, an elderly man with distinction and pride flowing from his every pore looked up and saw the Governor approaching. The cigarette was quickly dispatched and the cap dutifully straightened. Standing at the back door, almost at attention, he waited for his master to enter. However, instead of getting into the limo he said to the chauffeur,

  “No, not today Roberts. I do believe I will drive into town by myself today. The wife has asked if you would please drive over to the Primrose Estates and pick up a Black Forest Cheesecake for her afternoon tea.”

  Although wondering what it was all about, Roberts was very receptive to obeying orders. He expected to see the Governor get into his Lincoln but was surprised when he climbed into his wife’s car instead. As he drove down the long winding driveway, he passed the gardeners. They were all too busy pruning and mowing to notice him.

  The Governor stopped at the massive estate gates at the end of the driveway and pulled over. He kept looking in the mirror waiting for something to happen back there. It did not take Roberts long to pass him in the limo while on his way to carry out what he thought to be a frivolous errand. Aloud, the Governor said to the disappearing Roberts,

  “It’s an errand you will be very glad you jumped to right away my old friend.”

  Once the limo was out of sight, he looked over his shoulder at the mansion on the hill. Despite knowing what he was doing, knowing that he could not take anything of value with him, he was still struggling with a tinge of remorse. He really did love his wife and wished she could have come with him.

  In his hand was the remote detonator. Without hesitation, he whispered a ‘good-bye’ and his thumb pressed down hard. Before the massive explosion reached his ears, he saw in the rear view mirror the windows of the far mansion silently explode and flames burst through like coming from the blast furnace of hell. Walls blew outward and through the flames and smoke, he saw the massive roof slowly cave into the heart of the structure. With any luck, the hated servant would be standing next to his wife. He accelerated and sped down the hill to the main road. He did what he had to do and knew where he had to go.

  Chapter 23

  The chopper carrying Lynda Gray and Professor Quagmire was now hovering over Deep Lab 6 preparing to land. She looked down to see that many scientists from the laboratory were up top and aimlessly wandering around. Even from this height, she realized that by the sheer numbers, the lab below must be empty. Thinking something might have gone wrong and they are descending into danger she again pressed her mouthpiece to her lips and asked the pilot,

  “Have you gotten clearance to land yet?

  The reply was not comforting.

  “No Doctor. There seems to be something wrong with the communication network. I’ve tried all channels and none are responding.”

  “Have you noticed all those people on the surface?”

  “Yea, I kind of noticed that too.”

  She then voiced an opinion,

  “Perhaps there was some sort of contamination in the lab and they have been evacuated from it. Do you think it’s safe to land?”

  He responded,

  “No I don’t but like I said before, we have maxed out the fuel. The only way for m
e to get back is to land and refuel from the supplies inside the compound. About what is going on, I do not know. What I do know is that if there was contamination they should have contacted us through the emergency channels.”

  As they closed the distance, she again turned her attention to the crowd below. The Professor did not seem too concerned and continued to stare out the window with blank eyes. She took solace in realizing that it appeared nobody was frantically running around killing each other. Many stood in little groups seemingly talking. She also took comfort in what the pilot said, if there was contamination there ought to be panic and chaos. It was not until the blades started spewing up the sand that a few people turned and looked in their direction. She saw one man point and yell something. Hordes of people then ran to the landing sight.