Kyle glanced at Bark, and Stan who was awake now too. "What the hell is he talking about?" Bark asked.
Stan rose and opened the door. For a moment he stood there in the doorway and looked out at dome 1, and then he took a somewhat hesitant step back and pushed the heavy door shut again. It took him a moment to turn around, and when he finally did, he looked a little pale. "There's nobody out there," he said quietly, as if a hushed tone of voice was preferable in the face of such an atrocity.
Slowly Kyle got up and smoothed his palms over the thighs of his pants. "What?" he asked. The implications were staggering. "Are you nuts? They can't all be gone," he added, strode over to the door and pulled it open.
The sight that met him was that of a ghost town. All the tents and lean-tos were still there, here and there pots were boiling over open fire, but there was not a soul in sight. Kyle stepped outside and listened intently to his surroundings for a moment. There was something going on out there. He could hear a kind of ebbing and flowing background murmur that was hard to decipher. "Maybe they all decided to relocate to dome 2," he said out loud.
"Yeah, and where I come from pigs can fly," Bark countered and stepped up beside him. "What is that murmur?" he added and glanced at Kyle.
"I'd say that's everybody in the next dome," Kyle said and pursed his lips. "Or something else? I wouldn't know what, though. It sounds like distant voices to me."
Bark nodded. "Yeah, now that you mention it, it does," he agreed. "I wonder what made them all take off like that. Looks like some of them left in the middle of a meal," he added and nodded toward one of the bubbling pots.
"You know what? I don't care. Whatever is going on here, it's none of our business. All we need to do is get through to my father again and get him to double his efforts to get us out of here. Stat," Kyle said and sent a look upward. "What time would that be?"
"If we're talking the same time as yesterday, then we've still got a few hours to go," Stan said and stepped outside too. "This is weird, though, isn't it?"
"I don't know what's weird anymore," Kyle said with a shake of the head. "All I know is that I want out of here, as in yesterday." He glanced at Bark. "What time would it be on Earth right now?"
"Pangaea Capital?" Bark shrugged. "About six or seven, I'd say. I can check now that we have the connection."
"Do that," Kyle agreed and looked up at the dome above them. "Something's been bugging me for a bit," he said, directing this to Stan since Bark had disappeared back into the cubbyhole. "How come we can't see Earth from here?"
Stan snorted. "Because we're on the dark side of the Moon, silly," he countered with a pronounced lisp and swatted at Kyle's shoulder. "Don't you ever pay attention?"
Kyle smirked. "Not enough for it to matter, I guess," he said. "Go back inside. I'll take a look around. I'll see if I can find someone who might know what's going on."
There was no need to repeat that request. Stan disappeared inside as well and closed the door behind him. Alone now, Kyle focused on the sounds he could hear. Distant murmurs of voices. Damn, but didn't Daniel scare easily these days, he thought, raked all ten fingers through his hair and arched his back. Then he set out toward dome 2, not sure what he would find when he got there.
***
Dome 2
Sounds ebbed and flowed around him like water unseen, sending a shiver of the unknown up his spine. There was nobody around, but he could hear them, somewhere off in the distance, voices too far away to be understood.
The sense of abandonment that had overcome him the last time he had stepped into this dome was still there, which made no sense considering the sound of voices, of life. But it didn't really feel like life, now did it? It felt odd, off, wrong somehow. "This feels like a fucking nightmare," he told himself in a hushed tone, not sure he should be speaking out loud at all.
He followed the ebb and flow of the voices, the murmurs, but the acoustic in the domes wasn't the best. The sound seemed to bounce off the curved walls, sending him on a wild goose chase through the dome. He ended up at the junk pile, abandoned and untouched since the last time he had been there, and he stopped, listening to his surroundings. The murmurs were still there, rising and falling like the tide.
"The Russians?" he queried himself and headed off in the opposite direction toward the storage room and the mess hall and, so he assumed, the dwelling of the Russians. They might know what the hell was going on.
But deep down he knew, or thought he knew, what was happening. Whatever was hiding in dome 6, it was growing, spreading. It had taken over dome 5, emptied it out, killed the lights. And now it had taken over dome 4 too. Which meant what exactly? That it was a matter of time before it took over all the domes? And then what? Would it feast on the prisoners, devour all of them, and then take off and find somewhere else to settle? Like on Earth?
The implications staggered him and he stopped dead, the entrance to the mess hall in sight, the sound of voices still flowing around him like ancient ghosts. How big could this thing get? Was it actually growing or just expanding its territory? Was it indigenous? Or did it come from somewhere else? Had it crashed on the Moon eons ago and had lain dormant for countless centuries, waiting for something to come along and feed it?
He snorted at the leaps his mind was making. When and if he got back to Earth, he needed to have a serious chat with his shrink. The man might not be worth much, but it would be nice to be able to get rid of all these odd impressions he was struggling with. And what about those dreams? Prophecies? Or just nightmares? He couldn't tell. They felt odd, but dreams were usually odd. And did he even believe in prophetic abilities?
With a light shake of the head, he started walking again, advancing on the mess hall, expecting to find it teeming with activity. But one step inside the double doors showed him all too clearly that there was nobody in there. It was empty; and dark. He stood still for a moment, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom inside, but even that did not give him a clearer image of what, if anything, was going on inside. The silence was compact, breathtaking, like something had sucked the oxygen out of the room and he was standing at the very edge of that bubble of airlessness.
Uncertain, he took a step back, intent on continuing his trek along the rim to follow those voices, that didn't seem to come nearer or move further away, but some subconscious sensation stopped him dead in his tracks. He might not be able to see what was going on in the mess hall, but he had the distinct impression that it wasn't empty after all. There was something in here, something big, something powerful, something ...
With a sudden groan, he grabbed his head with both hands, the sensation he'd had since day one leaping out of proportions and filling his mind to the rim. It was like a voice inside his head, yet not a voice at all. It had no words, only imagines, had no eyes, only sensations. It saw and it spoke, but neither were meant for a human being. It ripped and tore at his conscious mind, threatened to shred it into tiny little ribbons with images of a perceived self, a thing he had no words for. His mind, always working, groped for a comparison that would stop him from going insane, and coughed up images of monsters from old books. H.P. Lovecraft's perception of 'the old ones', the 'ancients', rippled through his head, trying to connect with how this thing saw itself, with the projection of its self-image that it was broadcasting to all those who could understand, see and feel it.
Kyle was only half aware of screaming. It wasn't so much the pain in his head as it was the image it showed him, the equivalent of a 'hi, how are you? Just thought I'd drop in' message that it was conveying to him mentally. Only this type of message would mean a padded cell for the rest of his life and all the Prozac he could ingest without killing himself. Dreamless sleep at the depth of Earth's deepest ocean would be preferable to the self-image it projected.
He staggered, turned and ran, fingers clawed into his scalp, eyes watering from the strain, the anguish, the pure and utter terror. He ran until all around him became da
rkness. He hurled himself into a corner, slid down the wall, wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face against them, well aware that the lack of visual stimuli would open his mind even more.
The frantic beating of his heart in his chest, the throb of his pulse in his temples, brought up the concern that he was having a heart attack from pure fear, and it drew his attention away from the unseemly insanity invading his mind. He focused on calming himself down, on stopping the insane stutter of his heart. It took time, precious time, but finally it all slowed down, finally this vice locked around his head began to lessen and then disappeared altogether.
Slowly, he raised his head and blinked at his surroundings, realizing that it wasn't dark, only dim. He was in the storage room, at the far end, huddled into a corner. And the sense of pure terror was gone, had left him like morning dreams fled before the rising sun. He inhaled deeply, held his breath for a moment and then slowly let it out again. There was no sense of impending doom now, just that vague nibbling at the back of his mind that was there all the time, and had been there ever since he'd set foot on this blasted planetoid.
"Holy crap," he muttered and tried to decipher if what he had sensed was real or just his mind going into overdrive. He shifted, realized he was stiff like he'd been sitting here for hours on end, and finally got back to his feet. In an attempt to remove possible traces of what he considered a mental breakdown of sorts, he scrubbed both hands over his face and briefly marveled at how quickly he could regain control when things went south. "I've always been good at thinking on my feet," he told himself and smirked.
The fear, the downright terror, was gone. He was apprehensive, unsure of how he would respond if it all turned out to be true, but he moved forward anyway and once outside the storage room, he paused to regain his bearings and decide which way he should go. A glance in the direction of the mess hall made him decide that there was no way in Hell that he would go that way. Dream or not, he had no urge to relive that experience any time soon. Instead, he started forward in the direction of the tunnel back to dome 1.
While he walked, it dawned on him that the ghostly voices were gone. He stopped and sent a look upward. The moon cows were gone too and the glass was clear and showing space beyond. Distant stars twinkled coldly down at him and he had never longed for home more than he did right now. Being able to see Earth would have eased his concerns, but he did not recognize any of the constellations out there.
And then it hit him. What if the sound of voices had come from dome 3? He stood still for a bit, listening to the sigh of the breeze the air circulation carried to and fro, then almost laughed out loud. If he could hear people from dome 3 all the way over here, he would have been able to hear them before, and he had no recollection of being able to hear them the brief time he had spent in dome 2. Something was completely off about the whole thing and he no longer felt any urge to pursue this. What he did feel was the almost panicky need to return to the com-station room, get on the horn with his dad and get the old bastard to get off his bony ass and get him the fuck out of this place.
Creeped out, he hurried through the tunnel into dome 1 and came to an almost skittering stop when he cleared the mouth of the tunnel by pushing the tarp covering it away.
An old man, who had been on his way to somewhere, stopped dead and eyed him with narrowed eyes; then he grimaced with disgust and hobbled on.
It seemed that the population of dome 1 had returned from wherever they had been. Kyle just stood there for a moment and stared at the scene of life and normality in front of him while he tried to comprehend what was going on.
"Got the travelling bug?"
He jerked and looked around at Maya, the nutcase he and Vinnie had met on their first day here. She stood there, eyeing him darkly. "What?" he asked, a little bewildered.
She rolled her eyes. "You heard me," she claimed.
Kyle shook his head once and sent a brief look around. "Where'd you all go?" he then asked and returned his attention to Maya, who looked as dirty and unkempt as she had the first time.
"Go?" she asked and arched both brows. "What are you talking about?"
"Danny freaked out because everybody was gone from dome 1. So, where'd you go?" he repeated, hoping to get a straight answer out of her.
Her brows sank into a frown. "I have no idea what you're talking about, bucko," she claimed, snorted and waved a dismissive hand at him. "Bonkers. Just like the rest of'em," she growled, turned and walked away.
Kyle just watched her go for a moment, his mind muddled. Then he shrugged it off. Whatever the hell was going on here, he was either hallucinating or dreaming. It didn't matter in the end. All that mattered was getting in touch with his father to speed things along.
***
Step One - Coordinates
Bark turned away from the console when Kyle stepped back into the com-station room. "There you are," he stated needlessly, his tone indicating concern.
Kyle glanced at Stan, who was sitting on the floor just inside the door, knees pulled up, an almost grouchy expression on his face. Daniel was sitting in the corner at the far end, watching him with a frown creasing his brow. "Yeah," Kyle agreed and returned his attention to Bark and the console. "Is it time to call my dad yet?"
Bark briefly glanced at Stan and there was something in his eyes that worried Kyle. "Uh ... that was yesterday," Bark finally said, looking a little apprehensive.
"Yeah, we talked to him yesterday and he said to call him back today," Kyle agreed, not sure Bark was really firing on all cylinders right now.
Again that glance at Stan followed in the wake of his words. Kyle glanced at the other man as well and saw the somewhat stunned look in Stan's eyes. "Are you feeling okay?" Stan asked and got up, shedding the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders.
"I'm fine," Kyle countered, not sure he was getting the whole picture. "How are you?"
"What did you see?" Daniel's voice was a little rusty, like he hadn't talked in a while and his throat was dry.
"See?" Kyle had to admit that he was confused. He had no idea what was going on. According to his perception, he had been gone maybe an hour or two, but all three of them were acting like he had been gone longer. "I didn't see anything. I thought everybody had relocated to dome 2 or something, but there was nobody there." In a split second he had decided not to share his encounter with the beast. In part he wasn't so sure they would take it well, but a part of him also kept clamoring about it being a dream and that it had never actually happened.
"And that took you twenty-four hours to figure out?" Bark asked, his tone full of disbelief.
"Twenty-four ..." Kyle broke off and just stared at him while a sense of unreality settled on him. "What?!"
"You were gone for twenty-four hours. I called your dad as agreed and Stan talked to him. He wasn't happy about your absence," Bark said. He looked uncertain; as if he wasn't sure he should be telling Kyle this.
For a moment all Kyle could do was stand there and stare at Bark. Then he glance down himself, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. But his feet did feel a little worn right now, like he'd been walking around a lot. "Are you telling me ..." he began, but then shook his head. "Never mind. I did have the feeling that I was hallucinating at one point. Whatever the hell is going on out there ..." He paused again and glanced around at all three of them. "Dome 1 was empty, right? I didn't imagine that, did I?"
They glanced at each other. Bark had obviously been named the spokesperson here, because he did most of the talking. "We were asleep. Then you suddenly got up and walked out. Daniel tried to follow you, but you got lost in the throng of people out there."
Kyle blinked, focused on Daniel who was still watching him with concern, and realized suddenly what might be going on. "Oh crap," he muttered. "I dreamed it all?" He scrubbed a hand over his face, but then shook his head once more and sighed. "Never mind. It's not important right now. What did my dad say, apart from not being happy
about my absence?"
Stan eyed him for a moment, as if he expected him to have a nervous breakdown or something, and then cleared his throat. "Well, he said that he was working on a plan and we should call back today for the final instructions. He sounded pretty much like it was a done deal," he said.
Kyle smirked lightly. "Which it is if he sounds that way," he confirmed. "I bet he had some interesting comments about me not being around?"
"Actually, he seemed kinda worried," Bark said and glanced at Stan. "From what Stan said," he added, inclining his head in Stan's direction.
"Yeah, he did actually. Not in any overtly gushing way or anything, but he just sort of had this tight expression, asked if we knew where you were and if you were okay," Stan agreed.
His dad was worried about him? Kyle frowned, but decided to file it away for now. He would be able to confirm this perceived worry for himself when they called Earth again. "Okay, so ... is it time to call him back yet?" he asked.
Bark grinned. "Yeah, it is," he said, then replaced the grin with a frown. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just eager to get out of this dump," Kyle assured him.
Bark made the call and then got out of the way again when Kyle settled onto the stool. He briefly looked after Bark when he left the room, and figured he should ask what this was all about, but then the call went through.
"Kyle." Jonathan Whitmore sounded and looked anything other than worried. "How good of you to show up for the call." The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.
"Sorry about yesterday, dad. I got a little turned around. This place is like a maze," he lied and didn't even worry about whether his father bought that or not. "So, what's the plan?"
Jonathan eyed him for a moment. "You look tired, Kyle," he said, ignoring Kyle's question.
"I am tired, dad. The light's on up here twenty-four-seven. It's enough to drive anyone nuts," Kyle countered. "What's the plan, dad?" he insisted.
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