Mindwarp

by James Follett

  “No power for the doors!” said Jenine, frantically stabbing the emergency pad.

  “Get behind me!”

  Ewen stood at an angle to the sliding doors so that the energy from the plasma bolts would be deflected away from them. He levelled the PD and fired twice. The lightweight doors melted under the onslaught; their remains fell out of their guides and clattered, smoking, into the tunnel. The couple jumped down into the service trough that ran along the centre of the tunnel between the two sets of tracks. The crippled passenger capsule sat forlornly on the track.

  “I take you haven’t thought through a coherent plan of action?” Jenine inquired.

  “I’m making it up as I go along.” Ewen held the discharge tube high. The light was swallowed into the darkness in either direction. “Well… The crash will have knocked out the GoD power to both tracks, so they can’t come after us.”

  “The service trucks are independently powered,” Jenine observed. “And tunnels being tunnels means that our movement options are somewhat limited. We can either walk on towards Keltro, and get caught. Or we can walk back to the last station, and get caught. Or stay here and get caught.”

  “There are the safety recesses,” Ewen pointed out, clipping the discharge tube to his jacket. “One every three hundred paces.”

  “Brilliant lateral thinking, Ewen. We hide in a safety recess. It’ll never occur to them in a hundred years that it might just be a good idea to check them.”

  “You’re not being very helpful,” said Ewen.

  “Blowing-up the train wasn’t very helpful.”

  “So which way would you like to go, madam?”

  The question was answered by a faint humming from the direction of Keltro. Ewen grabbed the holdall and the couple stumbled along the service trough in the opposite direction.

  “Let’s keep going as far as we can,” Ewen panted. “Let them think that we might have escaped.”

  They passed three technicians’ refuges that were cut into the wall of the tunnel.

  “The next one,” Jenine panted. “There’s no point in exhausting ourselves.”

  Instead of a semi-circular recess, the next refuge was rectangular opening like a doorway but set high up in the side of the tunnel. They stepped carefully over the tracks in case they were live. Ewen tossed the holdall into the opening and scrambled up. He offered his hand to Jenine and yanked her up beside him. They sat opposite each other, knees touching, on the cold, grimy floor, not talking while they got their breath back. Ewen doused the discharge tube to avoid giving away their position. Jenine peered along the tracks. She hated the confines of the narrow recess but at least it was open to the tunnel.

  “Light coming,” she reported.

  Beyond the crippled passenger capsule, a bright light was approaching. It was a ground car with four men on board, riding high and clear of the unblocked track. It paused at each recess and a swivel headlight probed the shadows. Ewen aimed the PD weapon at them.

  “What good will that do?” Jenine demanded. “If you kill them, then we’ll be in even worse trouble, if that’s possible.”

  “It won’t hurt them. They’re out of range. The idea is to scare them off.”

  “But what’s the point?”

  “It’ll buy time.”

  “Are they prepared to sell it?”

  With that Ewen fired. A loud blast. Light flared along the tunnel, ricocheting off the walls. The ball of plasma dissipated most of its energies long before it reached the ground car, but it had the desired effect. The vehicle promptly spun on its axis and scooted back along the tunnel.

  “They’ll be back,” said Jenine listlessly.

  “I don’t doubt it. Keep listening.” Ewen switched on the discharge tube and examined their refuge. It was a tunnel about ten paces deep ending with a heavy steel door. It was welded into its frame by a mass of rust, suggesting that it had not been opened in centuries. He turned up the tube’s brightness long enough to read the faded lettering:

  SWITCH ROOM. NO LONGER USED. SEALED BY ORDER.

  There was a date underneath but most of the paint had flaked away. There were no visible hinges or signs of a lock: it was just a flat steel plate. He banged it with his fist. There was a bow handle that he pulled and pushed on, but the door was solid and unyielding.

  “What is it?” Jenine called out.

  “Some sort of door.”

  “Could you use the PD weapon on it?”

  “We’d be wasting shots. Nothing will shift this. A sealed switch room. This door’s probably welded in place.” He studied the walls of the short tunnel. They were lined with bricks made of dense black substance that he had never seen before. The mortar-filled joints had virtually disappeared under a thick layer of encrusted filth.

  “Tunnel’s brick-built,” he commented. He switched the light off and sat opposite Jenine.

  “So?”

  “It’s unusual. It must be very old.”

  “Nothing as unusual as this mess we’re in,” she observed curtly, resenting the effort to make conversation in her present mood.

  They lapsed into silence. Jenine tried to make herself comfortable on the cold floor. Presently they both dozed.

  “SOLANT!”

  They both jumped at the amplified voice that boomed and echoed along the tunnel.

  They peered cautiously out of their hiding place to where grey-uniformed soldiers were manning a mobile pallet that was parked beside the crippled passenger capsule. The pallet was carrying something large and business-like under a plastic tarpaulin.

  “The army’s here,” Ewen muttered dejectedly. “This could be serious.”

  “Solant! Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you!” Ewen yelled.

  “Thought you might like to see what we’ve bought with us.” The cover was whipped away to reveal a PD cannon. Ewen had witnessed a training session with such a field piece at the front. They were capable of spreading a lot of unhappiness.

  “We’re very proud of this, Solant!”

  “Looks impressive!” Ewen bellowed back.

  “Sounds impressive too!” The battery commander yelled. “Listen!” He gave an order to fire.

  Ewen threw himself on Jenine and covered her face. The blast from the ball of plasma that hurtled past them sent a shockwave into their tunnel that threw them against the steel door. A burst of searing heat washed over them. With his ears ringing, Ewen rolled off Jenine to check that she was unhurt.

  “Get down, idiot!” she shouted.

  “It’s okay. Those things take about two minutes to recharge.”

  “Solant!”

  Ewen crawled to the opening and peered at the mobile gun. The tunnel lining had been blackened by the plasma bolt’s passage.

  “You called!”

  “I hope you enjoyed that as much as we did,” the battery commander replied. “I’m supposed to say to you that if you throw out your weapons and come out with your hands out, we won’t hurt you. But that would spoil our fun, so you stay right there and return our fire. Okay?”

  Ewen darted back to Jenine and crouched down. “Listen, they’ve got a problem.”

  She looked incredulous. “They’ve got a problem? Don’t you think you should concentrate your mind on our problems?”

  “I’m serious. That thing can’t fire around corners, and it takes time to recharge. The next time they fire, we jump out and run for the next recess. And when they fire again, we head for the recess after that, and so on.”

  “Supposing they’re bringing up another cannon in the direction we’ll be heading?” Jenine reasoned.

  “They won’t be able to use it because they’d end up shooting at each other, whereas we’ll be able to shoot at both of them. There’s just a chan-”

  The PD cannon roared again. The ground shook. Heat and light crashed against the senses of the couple huddled against the steel door. Rock and bricks rained down, filling the refuge with choking dust. Ewen held the light up when the dust
had settled. The corner of their little tunnel nearest the cannon had taken a direct hit. The battery commander was no fool; maybe he couldn’t shoot around corners, but he could shoot corners away. Two more accurate blasts like that and they would be either buried under tonnes of rock or exposed.

  Jenine suppressed a shiver of fear at the thought of being trapped in the narrow recess.

  Another blast of heat and light. The impact ripped more rock out of the side of the refuge, halving its depth. Jenine gasped in terror and tried to crawl through the steel door. The sound of her involuntary cry cut through the banshee ringing in Ewen’s ears like a laser. He knew the misery she was going through. He groped for the PD weapon, lobbed it over the rubble, and heard it clatter on the track.

  “That’s a shame, Solant” the amplified voice of the battery commander boomed disappointedly. “Now show yourselves slowly, and we’ll have to stop shooting! You’re supposed to make my day.”

  “We’ll have to give ourselves up, Jenine.”

  “No! Never! Not now!” She clung to him with fierce strength.

  “I can’t let this happen to you.”

  The harshness went from her voice. It was a whisper; a sweet affirmation of love and loyalty. “You’re not letting anything happen to me, Ewen. I said I wanted to be with you, and I meant it. We’ll go together and we’ll never surrender.”

  The amplified voice of the battery commander resonated down the tunnel. “It would be helpful if you said something like: “You’ll never take me alive, soldier”. That way we’ll both have a clear objective. You get to keep your pride, and we get to keep on firing.”

  “Don’t say anything,” Jenine whispered, still keeping a tight grip on him. “Keep them guessing.” She kissed him. “I love you, Ewen.”

  The PD cannon roared again. The shot went high, bringing down a massive rockfall that partially blocked the remains of the tunnel. A brick landed painfully on Ewen’s ankle even though he had flattened himself against Jenine and tucked his legs in. They waited for the next bolt of energy that would surely herald the end.

  Two minutes slipped by.

  Jenine gave a little sob in the darkness.

  Five minutes.

  Ewen’s hearing cleared. He heard a faint hissing. In the light of the discharge tube he saw white tendrils of gas snaking lazily through the fallen rubble. It was lighter than air for it formed a bubble of grey fog above their heads, pooling against the roof. As he watched, the flattened underside of the gas inexorably crept down towards its victims.

  “Gas,” he muttered, his voice hoarse from the dust that lined his throat. “Get low!” He pushed Jenine’s face roughly to the floor.

  Ripples played on the underside of the gas cloud like a strange, inverted pool of water, but the grey fog continued to swell and reach down, fed by the delicate white streams that continued to find their way through the fallen masonry.

  Ewen rested his cheek on the floor and felt Jenine’s sweet, warm breath on his cheek. Her hand found his and squeezed it tight. He marvelled at her courage.

  The gas was cold on his face. He opened his eyes and saw that it was a hand’s breadth above his temple, heaving like the puckered flesh of something pallid and obscene. But the cold wasn’t the touch of the gas; it was caused by something else. Something that made the gas seem to recoil and swirl as though in silent anger.

  A draught of air!

  His hand reached towards the needle-like current of air. His fingertips brushed against the rust-encrusted steel door and found the narrow gap at the bottom between the door and its frame.

  “Jenine! The door’s come open!”

  “What?”

  “The door! The plasma bolts must have sprung it ajar!”

  Still keeping his head to the ground, he twisted around, braced his feet against the door, and pushed with all his strength. The reaction of the powerful shove slid him along the ground but he felt the massive door give.

  “Help me! But keep your head down!”

  But Jenine was already wriggling into a position to add her weight to Ewen’s efforts.

  “Both together!” Ewen breathed. “One… Two… Three… Push!”

  A squeal of rusty metal.

  “And again!”

  Ewen’s body strained causing his head to lift involuntarily. He inhaled some of the gas. It hit him like a bomb. His head swam. He buried his face against the floor and continued pushing: a triumph of resolve over reason. He felt his strength ebbing away. Jenine’s voice filtered through the fog that was a shroud closing around his consciousness. He heard someone choking and realised that it was himself.

  “One more, Ewen! One more!”

  Whether Jenine got the door open by herself or whether he managed to help, he never knew. He felt something pulling at him, rolling him over and over so that he saw alternate darkness then fog. A stinging sensation on his cheek, and then another.

  “Ewen! Wake up! Wake up! Don’t leave me alone!”

  Another stinging whiplash across his cheek.

  “Ewen!”

  “How can I do anything if you keep hitting me?” he mumbled. She pulled him into a sitting position. They were through the door. The discharge tube was lying on the floor, its light playing on the strange fog that was now escaping into the new darkness that lay beyond the door. The air had a strange, musty taste but it wasn’t poisoned.

  “Don’t stand up!” Jenine warned. “There’s some gas up there. We’ve got to get the door closed to prevent anymore getting through.”

  “Have you got the holdall?”

  “Yes - now push!”

  They repeated their exertions - lying on the ground and shoving with their feet. The door closed with less effort than it took to open. Jenine turned up the tube’s brightness to check that the gas had dispersed before she stood and helped Ewen to his feet.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Terrible,” he replied.

  “Well,” said Jenine looking around and giving a little shudder. “We seem to have found ourselves a new tomb.”

  The disused switch room was a little wider and longer than the tunnel. The walls were a mass of rusting brackets that had once supported fuseboxes and switchgear. There was a bulky contactor housing of ancient design lying on the floor together with a length of conduit pipe. The ceiling was high - at least the height of three men. Thankfully there was no GoD receptor. Ewen turned his attention to the door that they had just closed and which was the only way in or out of the room. The exposed latching mechanism was smothered in ancient, black grease. It consisted of several massive steel tongues that engaged in holes in the top, sides and bottom of the frame. The tongues were linked together by heavy surface-mounted levers and bellcranks. A master lever ending in a heavy counterbalance weight kept the door locked. Ewen nudged the counterbalance. It dropped easily, causing all the tongues to slide smoothly home. It was easy to see what had happened: a freak tremor had kicked the counterbalance and allowing the door to spring open. If it hadn’t been for the grease, rust would have effectively welded the ancient door shut.

  “How many plasma bolts will that door sustain?” Jenine asked.

  “Two I guess. Maybe three. Not more.” As he spoke, Ewen felt in his pocket for the radio capsule that Father Dadley had given him.

  “If you’re ever in serious trouble, Ewen. Big trouble. Squeeze the ends together hard and someone will hear.”

  Ewen’s fingers closed around the talisman, for that was all it was now. Radio signals would never be heard down here.

  They were silent. Each thinking the same: the open door that had given so much hope had turned out to be nothing more than a respite - a stay of execution. They settled down, huddled close to each other, waiting for the inevitable end.

  PART 7. Escape.

  1.

  Caudo Inman stared down the tunnel at the rubble that spilled across the rail tracks. He cut short the excuses of the battery commander with an impatient wave of his staff. “You had them
trapped. Their position was hopeless, and yet you allowed them to escape. How is this possible?”

  The commander swallowed, and slapped the plasma cannon’s discharge nozzle to cover his nervousness. It was still warm. “Solant must’ve known about the few seconds’ fogging of our optical instruments after firing, sir. He and the girl must’ve run along the tunnel to the next recess right after we’d fired - while we were blind.”

  “But you say you spoke to him?”

  “Yes, sir. But the acoustics are bad down here. Sounds echo all over the place as you can hear. It’s not easy to tell how far away a voice is.”

  “The battery was positioned here? Yes?”

  “Right here,” the commander agreed. Enough of his initial awe had worn off for him to be irritated at this hostile questioning within earshot of his men.

  “And where was the passenger capsule they sabotaged?”

  “Beside us, sir. It was loaded onto a wrecker and hauled away about an hour ago.”

  A soldier took a hologram picture. Inman heard the camera’s faint whirr and turned his cadaverous head. “You’re wasting your time, trooper! It’ll be fogged!” The soldier nearly dropped his camera in fright. Inman stepped down into the service trough and beckoned the commander to follow. They reached the rubble strewn around the tunnel opening.

  “All this debris was piled up around the tunnel,” the commander explained. “We cleared it away after the gas had dispersed, expecting to find them unconscious.”

  A brilliant beam of light from Inman’s staff illuminated the steel door. “I take it that it crossed your mind to check that door?”

  The question annoyed the commander but he was careful to conceal his feelings. “Yes, sir. It’s solid. There’s no way they could have opened it.”

  The gaunt figure grunted and entered the refuge tunnel to examine the ancient door for himself. He pressed his weight against it, shook the handle, and ran the tip of his staff around the frame. He emerged from the refuge, stepping carefully over the rubble, and looked along the main tunnel in both directions, picturing what had happened.