by Paul Emil
So there we were. We had a mission to complete. There were a lot of unknowns. The situation was unfamiliar, which made it scary and dangerous. But it was only a simulation after all, right?
Just when I thought I was finally mentally ready, Chandler dropped another bomb. He said, “Abrams! You’re in charge.”
I wanted to say, “What? Why me?”, but I just stood there and said nothing. This was a “leadership test,” wasn’t it? Shirking that responsibility would be grounds for automatic failure. This was my chance to prove myself once and for all. It was time to step up.
“Abrams! You got a problem with that?”
“Sir! No, Sir!”
“Good! Then get to it!”
I took a deep breath, and exhaled quickly. I hoped that puffing out my chest and assuming good posture would make me look larger and give me an air of authority. I summoned my deepest, most commanding voice and said, “Alright! Everyone ready?”
We lit the lights mounted on our helmets and under our guns. We spoke into our mikes and listened to everyone’s voices in our earbuds. Comm lines were working.
“I said, ‘EVERYONE READY?’”
“Affirmative!”
“Good! Fall in behind me! Let’s do it!”
“Alright,” the handler said, satisfied. “The house is waiting. Get in there and do your job. The clock starts now.”
13
The gate of the inner fence slowly slid open. I looked at Chandler. He was smiling that weird smile again. He casually glanced at his watch, subtly reminding me that the test had started.
This was my chance to lead by example. I had to show the men I was not afraid. I moved forward.
As soon as we were all in the pen, the gate slammed shut and locked. It seemed to close behind us a lot faster than it had opened to let us in. I resisted the urge to turn my head and look back at the men on the other side of the fence.
I led my troops across the tiny wasteland between the fence and the house. Apparently, nothing grew here. “It’s too dark,” I told myself. “Not enough sun.”
It was true. It was 16:17 hours – 4:17PM civilian time. Yes, it was late afternoon, but here in the hollow of the volcano, the sun had set. This place probably only got a few hours of sunlight a day around noon, when the sun was directly overhead.
The house loomed in the mountain shadows. Daylight seeped away and the moon would rise soon. There was a big full one last night. It would provide light and no warmth. It was cold here in the center of the Rock. It was getting worse as the sun went down. I shivered.
The house seemed bigger now. In fact, it looked huge. It was if it had grown while were weren’t looking. My eyes swept the ground at eye-level to avoid looking up at it. I noticed an entrance to a storm cellar off to the side of the house. One of the doors was missing. This house must have a huge basement. For a moment, imagined all sorts of nasty things crawling, scurrying, or slithering their way down there from the surrounding desert. Then again, any snakes or scorpions or anything else would have to pass through the crack in the volcano, over the walls, and through the electric fence (I suddenly realized it was electrified). No, there was nothing down there. Nothing.
I approached the front door cautiously. I pointed my gun down and quickly tested the knob. It felt tight, but it turned. It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a sucking sound, as if I had unsealed a mummy’s tomb. I kicked the door in anyway (my favorite part) and we all rushed in.
The first thing we noticed was the smell. It was the smell of neglect. The darkness engulfed us, and the dust was so heavy in the air, it swam about us like sand and ocean particles in the beams of our flashlights, as if we were underwater.
The guys with lanterns turned them on. The light put everyone at ease slightly. We were in an open foyer. In front of us was a long hallway leading to total darkness. A stairway going up was attached to a wall on the right. Overhead was an elaborate chandelier of black wrought iron. Instead of lights, it contained cups for candles, looking like it pre-dated the invention of electricity.
Damn! How old is this place? I wondered.
To our left was a sitting room. It was as good a place to start as any.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s go room by room, starting with that one.”
We filed into the room, sweeping it with the beams of our flashlights. This room was a little easier to see in, since it was in the front corner of the house, just to the left of the front door. It contained a coffee table, two couches (crafted God knows when), and an end table. The windows had been boarded up, but through the gaps in the wood we received some light from the towers and the spotlights from outside, which had been turned on. They looked like blurry orbs, as far away as the moon on a cloudy night.
I was about to declare the room “clean” when Kaz hissed, “Did you hear that?”
We all froze. The silence was ominous.
“I thought I … oh, never mind,” he said, clearly embarrassed.
I was annoyed, but then I realized how we were all standing around in a cluster. If a real enemy had been around, all he had to do was lob a grenade at us and he’d take everyone out all at once.
I had to split us up. I know. I didn’t like the idea either. It reminded me of every horror movie where the cast members get separated and then get killed off one by one. But that wasn’t going to happen here. We would form teams. Besides, we could have bigger problems if we stuck together. We were using live rounds. If somebody started shooting, we would be our own worse enemy. With all of us in the same room, we would constantly be in each other’s line of fire.
And Kaz. The kid was jumpy. We were only a few minutes in and he was already spooked and brought our progress to a complete halt.
I decided to send him off in another team with Dubois. Dubois was cool. He was always cool, even under pressure. They would be a good team.
“Alright, listen up,” I said. “We’re going to re-start from the entry way.”
We moved a few meters back to where we started from. I made my announcement.
“We’re going to split into teams.” There was a murmur of disapproval.
“Fuck that.”
“Hell no.”
“You’re crazy, man.”
I was prepared for that. I said, “Look, I know this sucks and it feels safer to stay in one big group, but it’s not. We’re going to split up into teams. We’ll get it done faster, and the sooner we’re done, the sooner we can meet up again and get the hell out of here.”
There was no dissent this time. Apparently, the guys were waiting to hear who they would be teamed up with before bitching about it.
“Dubois and Kaz: You two do upstairs.”
Kaz winced, but Dubois said nothing.
“Barnes, Stillman, and Boudreaux: You guys do the downstairs.”
Stillman said, “The basement? You’ve got to be fucking shitting me! There’s no way I’m going down to the fucking basement!”
“That might be easier than the rest of the house,” I said. “It might be one big fucking room.”
Stillman was starting to open his mouth to say something, but I kept talking to cut him off. My authority was already on the line. I didn’t want this to become a debate.
“Look,” I said. “Check it, then come back and wait for us by the front door. And what the hell? You’ve got three guys on your team! Three big guys! The rest of us have two and we’re not complaining.”
Kaz looked terrified, so I said, “Isn’t that right? Kaz?”
He jumped a little when I called his name, but he recovered nicely. “Sir! Yes, Sir!”
“Good.”
I turned and looked at Stillman. I had effectively shamed him. Kaz was brave in his two-man team. Stillman couldn’t protest, or he’d look scared in his group of three. He saw the situation, and said, “Aw, Fuck. Alright. Let’s just get it done.”
“You heard the man,” I said confidently, enjoying my brief victory in leadership. “Let’s
get it done!”
–––––
Each team took one lantern. I informed them that I wanted comm lines on “Standby,” but not open. Some leaders like to leave the lines open. They like to hear everything going on in an op at all times. Personally, I hate missions like that. It’s hard to concentrate on your task when you can hear everything everyone else is doing. I didn’t want that here. Everyone was jumpy enough as it was.
Besides, in “Standby Mode,” all we had to do was push a button and we were connected to everybody. It was like being a cop with a radio. We could call for backup whenever we needed.
The teams split up. Dubois and Kaz slowly ascended the creaking stairs. Barnes, Stillman, and Boudreaux headed toward the door to the stairway leading to the basement. With a heightened sense of hearing (I guess fear will do that), I could hear Stillman muttering something like, “This is bullshit” and “fucking basement.”
Paco and I looked at each other, both of us seeking some reassurance that I was doing the right thing.
Paco looked at me, awaiting instruction. I couldn’t tell if he approved or not.
“Alright,” I said, “Back to the parlor. Let’s start from there.”
14
Paco and I re-entered the small front room we had just come from. Since I’d already been there, I felt a little more at ease. We did a quick scan. Something seemed wrong, but I couldn’t quite place it. I decided it was nothing and called, “Clear!”
I expected Paco to echo that. He didn’t.
“What?” I said to him, slightly annoyed. I didn’t want to get hung up on the first room, because we had a lot more ahead of us.
“The window,” he said. “There was a window there!” He was shining his light on a blank wall. There was nothing there now but old, stained plaster.
“I don’t know,” I said doubtfully.
“No! I’m telling you, man! There was a window there five minutes ago! I remember looking at it. But now it’s gone!”
I shone my light on the wall. I didn’t see any change in color or signs of a seam. “I don’t know,” I said. “Just looks like a wall to me.”
“THERE WAS A FUCKING WINDOW THERE!”
As a leader, it is paramount to stay calm and assert control over the entire situation. If the leader freaks out, the troops lose confidence. Then the situation breaks down and becomes a free-for-all. I was glad I had closed the comm lines.
“Look,” I said, “There were more lights and shadows in here when the other guys were here. It must have been a trick of light.”
Paco was breathing faster. I almost expected him to protest, but he took a few deep breaths and said, “OK, OK. Are you sure, Holmes?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m sure.”
I kind of liked it when Paco called me “Holmes.” I though it was funny to think of a white guy like me from the Midwest having a cool “gangsta-style” nickname.
Paco took a deep breath, and said, “OK, then. I’m cool. Let’s go.”
“Right,” I said. We left the room. I felt a massive amount of relief when we did. I couldn’t let my teammate see panic I felt. My heart felt like an insane bird banging around inside of a birdcage. That’s because as soon as Paco said it, I noticed it too. There had been a “fucking window” there.
–––––
The bad feeling I had going into this house was getting worse. Involuntarily, I had a flashback to some documentary I watched on carnivorous plants. One plant lured insects in with a scent. It actually had some transparent parts like windows. The narrator, with his impressive baritone voice said, “The insect enters the well-lit chamber. It soon finds that it can’t get out.”
We see the bug panicking inside. The voice says, “It has nowhere to go except deeper into the plant, where it is slowly digested.”
I still remember the view of the inside of the plant. It was a tiny tunnel with translucent pink and white walls. It was sunny and light, but got darker at the far end, where it receded into a black hole. The camera actually moved toward it, showing the bug’s point of view. For some reason, that totally creeped me out. That’s how I felt now: “totally creeped out.” I hoped it wasn’t too obvious.
The next room was a long, narrow dining room. An appropriately long table with high-backed chairs occupied it. There were two large windows – boarded up, of course. The room looked OK. I was pleased by how fast the sweep went.
I checked in with the other teams. “A Team” was upstairs. “A Team! You copy!”
“Sir! Yes, Sir!” said Dubois. I was strangely relieved to hear his voice.
“Report.” I ordered. Then, oddly, I added, “Everything OK?”
“So far.”
“Good. Keep going. Meet us back at the landing when you’re done.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Abrams out.”
That went well. I called Basement Team C.
“C Team! Copy?”
Boudreaux answered, “C Team. Copy.”
“Status?”
“Doing it,” Boudreaux said.
Stillman’s voice jumped in, “You know what’s down here, Abrams? Fucked-up shit! There’s some fucked-up shit down here!”
I could tell he was still pissed off for being sent down there. I said, “Boudreaux, what’s he talking about?”
“Uh, noises … and shit.”
“Pop-ups?”
“Negative.”
“OK,” I said. “Just get it done and get back upstairs. I think we’re about 30 percent done.”
“Affirmative.”
“Abrams out.”
I didn’t know if we were 30 percent done, but it sounded encouraging.
Paco and I advanced to the next room. There was no door, but rather a large arched opening. The room was a massive kitchen, shaped like an octagon. The ceiling was two stories high, and the huge joists supporting the room met in the middle of the ceiling like a giant spider web. There were ancient-looking iron stoves along the walls, as well as counters. In the middle of the room was a large wooden island. A metal grid with all manner of pots and pans hanging from it was suspended by chains from the ceiling. On the table beneath it was a chopping block with the biggest meat cleaver I’d ever seen. It was so big it was almost a joke, like a prop for Halloween. But there was nothing funny about it. The angle at which it stuck out of the block made it look like the blade of a medieval executioner.
Paco and I scanned the room nervously.
“Clear,” I said hesitantly.
“Clear,” Paco agreed hastily. We left the kitchen by a door back out to the hall, passing through those funny half-doors that swing like the ones you see on the entrance of the saloon in every Western.
We exited into the hall. Straight ahead, it continued on to the rest of the house. At the far end was a window, mercifully uncovered by boards. Twilight dimness, along with light from the spotlights outside, illuminated the glass. The blue gloom reflected on the hardwood floor like moonlight on the surface of a cold, lonely lake at night.
The hallway on the right, leading back to the foyer, opened up to a larger room about half way down. I didn’t like the idea of having to go back the way we came, but there was a set of double-doors we had passed in the hall outside the kitchen. We were checking the rooms on the perimeter of the house, but those doors led to an interior room or closet. We needed to check it to finish with this part of the house.
Paco had the same idea. He led the way back and half-way down the hall he stopped. He was looking at something framed on the wall.
That left me alone at the corner. I was looking down the hall at the moonlit room at the far end. That’s when I saw it.
A figure stepped into view at the edge of that room. It was completely black. I swear, I would have shit my pants if there had been anything in me. I completely froze. I was about to yell when it stepped into the open. It was the silhouette of a woman. She was gorgeous.
Some women are like that. A lot of people, in the distance, k
ind of look like blobs. I mean, you can’t tell if they’re men or women. But other women have bodies that are so good that their body shapes just scream, “Female!” They’re so feminine that they cannot be mistaken for men. You can tell they’re hot even from a mile away.
That’s what this woman was like. I could tell she almost naked, except for the thin wisp of see-through lingerie that couldn’t even be called clothing. She was perfectly framed in the moonlit rectangle of that far window. She played with her long hair, looking like a woman in a commercial who looks beautiful after using a certain hair care product. I even thought I could briefly make out her face in profile. She had a small nose and large lips, so though she was little more than a black shape, her shape was ravishing.
I may as well have not been there. She didn’t see me, or ignored me. Then, with a flip of her hair, she turned and walked back from where she came from.
As soon has she had disappeared from sight, I snapped my gun to my shoulder and swept my light down the hall.
“What is it?”
I shouted and jumped. Paco was standing next to me.
“Whoa!” he said. “It’s me. What’s going on?”
I looked around and after a moment, I said, “Nothing.”
I checked the comm lines. I was relieved and secretly surprised when everyone checked in.
I know I saw what I saw, but I wasn’t going to give the house the satisfaction. I had seen this movie before. The sexy woman appears and lures the man away. He starts thinking with his dick and all logic and reason go out the window. It’s a trick to separate him from the group.
But that’s where the house got it wrong. I wasn’t going to follow the woman in dark. You see, years ago, Ashira, the Devil herself, or the Devil’s feminine side, or whatever, came to me and offered me sex. Sometimes I say, “She came to me in a dream,” because that makes more sense, but the truth is she came to me and I refused her. If I could resist the hottest temptress in the universe, I could resist the ghost girl in the haunted house.