by Alton Gansky
“Analog?” Brenda stepped closer to the panel. If she was impressed with her first glimpse of a flying saucer, she was doing a great job of keeping it secret.
“Yep,” Chad said. “These gauges are mechanical, with arms that move over the face of the dial, like an old watch.”
“I know what analog means,” she snapped. “I may only be a tattoo artist, but I know a few things.”
Andi diffused the situation. “I doubt ET could sail the deep regions of space with that kind of low technology.”
“Wait,” Daniel said. “This isn’t from outer space?”
“Sorry, kid,” Andi said. “I’m a little bummed, too.”
Before we began this grand expedition, Andi had told us that many people believed the Nazis set up camp in the Antarctic, found UFOs, and stole some of the alien technology.
“That’s all good thinking, people,” Zeke said, “but the proof is written on the gauges. The words are German.”
“Germans are known for great engineering,” Chad added. “Of course, I usually think of cars like Mercedes and Porsche.”
“And then there’s this.” Zeke moved his flashlight to the top of the panel, illuminating a swastika. I had seen it when I first entered. I don’t usually anger easily, but that image set my blood to boiling.
Chad slipped into one of the seats and the space filled with light. Even from my position by the door I saw the gauges move. A moment later I heard a smooth hum. Chad was out of the chair in a heartbeat.
“Sorry, sorry.” He took several steps back. “I didn’t expect that.”
The lights dimmed again.
“You should put your hands in your pockets and keep them there,” Daniel said.
“We’re leaving.” Brenda grabbed Daniel by his coat and yanked him toward the hatch.
I stepped aside, then followed them out. At the foot of the ramp, Daniel returned my flashlight. “Here,” was all he said.
I took the light. “Sorry it wasn’t what you expected, buddy.”
“It’s okay. It’s still pretty cool.”
I wasn’t sure I could agree. The thing gave me the willies. Everything I saw down here gave me the willies.
The others filed off the ramp.
Zeke shone his light around. “I imagine all these other chambers are storage spaces, but we need to look. We may find a better path or something to help us finish this job and get out of here.
“We should stick together,” I said.
“It would go faster if we split up,” Chad said.
“No dice.” Zeke shook his head. “I’m with Tank on this one. There’s strength in numbers.”
“I ain’t feeling all that strong,” Brenda said.
We started for the next chamber.
Chapter 6
We moved around the massive chamber investigating the smaller compartments. Some were empty; others had mundane things like basic supplies and even toilet paper. Very old and frozen toilet paper. It made me wonder where the bathrooms were located.
Andi had grown talkative—a sign she was getting nervous. “Zeke, what do you think the Nazis did with the flying saucers?”
“My guess is that you might be right and they engineered their own saucers from one they found here or someplace else. They were working on rockets—the V1 and the V2. The V2s did a lot of damage to London. Maybe the saucer was going to be the next wave of tech to prosecute the war.”
“So the seats in the back of the craft were for soldiers?” she asked.
“Maybe. Or maybe they were used to ferry around bigwigs. Allied bombers and fighter jets described some pretty strange aircraft they called foo fighters. Maybe those things were what they were seeing.” He sighed. “I’m just spit-balling here. Of course, there are some people who believe that several Nazi leaders escaped to South America. Some say that Hitler made it out, too. I suppose having your own flying saucer might make escape easier.”
“I thought Hitler killed himself,” Chad said.
“That’s what most believe, but others hold a different opinion. For all we know, he came here. We do know there was a lot of planning to restart the war from South America. Those guys didn’t give up easily.”
“I wanna know how they got those things out of here and into the air,” Chad said.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Zeke said. “They had to fly those things in, so I assume they must have been able to fly those things out.”
“Which would explain the UFO sightings in Antarctica,” Andi said.
Zeke nodded. “Exactly.”
He led us into yet another chamber. This one was larger than most and held a machine shop. That made sense. More and more I felt like we were strolling through a haunted factory—a frozen, haunted factory.
I was bringing up the rear, not because I’m lazy or slow, but because it was the place for me to be, what Zeke called a “tactical position.” I was the last to enter each of the manmade ice caves.
The team filed through the opening. I would be the last to enter, but before I made it inside, I heard a scream, maybe two or three screams (one sounded like Chad) that made me hold up. As I did, dim figures came charging toward me, their flashlights cutting through the darkness like light sabers.
Brenda shot past me carrying a package. It took a second for my startled brain to realize that Daniel was the package.
“Duch, duch,” Daniel screamed.
Behind them came Chad, then Andi. Zeke was the last to hot-foot it out of the space.
“Run, Tank!”
I held my ground and steeled myself to face whatever was attacking them. I raised my light, partly to see, partly to blind the thing heading my way.
Nothing came.
I took two steps forward and listened. No footsteps. No growling. No snarling. No breathing. Nuthin’. Still, I didn’t relax. Something had sent the others sprinting out of the area.
The reaction of the others told me I should back out the way I came. That would make sense, but I don’t always do the sensible thing.
I scanned the room with my flashlight, the beam reflecting off the ice walls and ceiling. Ten feet in, I saw a rectangular box on a stand. Moving my beam left to right I saw other rectangular boxes. The more I looked, the more boxes I saw. I say boxes because that was my first impression. It took me a few moments to realize that each box reflected more light than it should have if it was made of wood or the like.
I figured the size of each box to be about six, maybe seven feet long, and best I could tell, they were less than three free feet wide. They sorta reminded me of . . . coffins.
I’ve been cold since we were lowered through the ice shaft, but this realization put an extra measure of chill in my marrow. They were the right size and shape to be coffins. Yep, backing out made the most sense.
So I moved forward.
I approached the first row of boxes. I’m only guessing, but there must have been close to a hundred of them in this room, all lined up neat and orderly. For some reason, I found that even more unsettling.
When I got within touchin’ distance I directed my light to the box’s lid.
Man, I wish I hadn’t done that.
The lid was glass or some kinda, thick, clear plastic. I didn’t feel the need to touch it to find out. I’d just have to learn to live without that answer.
My beam fell on something dark gray. Then I saw a leather strap, like a belt, but across the body. Only a few seconds had to pass for me to realize I was looking at the body of a man in a Nazi uniform. Maybe Gestapo. Maybe some other branch of the Nazi military. I don’t know about such things. Never wanted to know such things.
I ran my light over the dead dude’s torso. Definitely a Nazi uniform.
It had to be done. I was in this far, I might as well go all the way: I shone my light on the man’s face.
He was looking at me. His skin was gray and pulled tightly over his skull. I could see his teeth. He looked like he had grimaced, as if my light hurt his unsee
ing eyes.
I don’t remember much of the history I learned in school, but I know World War II ended in the mid ‘40s. If this guy lived back then, he was really old. He looked it. He looked like he had been dead a long—
I heard something. A creak. Like a hinge on the door in an old Hollywood ghost movie. I scanned the area, but saw nothing.
I heard it again, but this time from a slightly different direction. Still I saw nothing. My nerves were getting to me. No wonder the others had run off.
Time to take a few deep breaths. My nose squeaked as I inhaled. Anyplace other than a frozen morgue and that would have been funny.
There was no need, best I could tell, to look in all the coffins. One scarecrow Nazi was enough for me. I looked at my friend in the box one last time.
He looked back at me, and his eyes seemed narrower than they had a moment ago.
He blinked.
The lid swung up, opening with the sound of rushing air.
I backed away as another lid screeched and opened.
It was reflex, not courage, that made me scan the room with my light again. All the lids were open. Fifty, a hundred, I-don’t-know-how-many lids were open and the people inside were rising.
And they were all looking at me.
I would like you to think I was calm, brave, and reasonable; that I evaluated the situation and made a rational decision.
I wasn’t. I didn’t.
I screamed like a little girl.
And I ran.
The distance from where I stood to the opening was just a few strides, but it seemed closer to a mile. With every step I took, I could imagine—I could feel—a gray, bony hand reaching for the back of my parka.
I plunged through the opening with one thought on my mind and one word in my mouth.
“RUN.”
My brain still functioned enough for me to recognize Chad’s voice. “If Tank is running, then I’m running too.”
I tried to slow enough to let the others get in front of me. A nice idea, but I slipped and hit the ice. I was already sore beyond words from being stuck in a jagged ice opening and this wasn’t going to help. Pain rifled up my hip and into my spine. My shoulder complained, too. I had also bounced my head off the ice, hard enough to knock out most men, but I was too scared to pass out.
“Tank!” Andi was beside me in a second. “Are you hurt?”
“Go. Run. Now. Go. Go. Go.”
She wouldn’t leave until I was on my feet again. Man, I love that girl.
“This way.” Zeke stood by the one opening we hadn’t entered. He was pointing his light at himself so we could see where he was. “Let’s go. Move it, people. Move it!”
We moved it. I hoped—I more than hoped—I prayed that the opening led to someplace other than another storage area where they kept more people-sicles. We had reasoned that the flying saucers had to be trucked or even flown into this place. How else could they be stored here? Sure enough, the opening didn’t lead to another side chamber, but to a wide ice tunnel.
As we plunged into the passageway, I felt a bit like Jonah being swallowed by the great fish.
The tunnel was long—so long we couldn’t see the end. I guessed we had run a quarter mile before we slowed. Brenda, Daniel, and Andi were huffing and puffing. To be honest, so was I, and I was supposed to be in great shape.
Zeke slowed, then stopped, letting us pass him. When I reached him, he was shining his light forward, looking ahead in the tunnel. I stopped and did the same.
“Those things have been dead too long to put up much of a chase,” he said.
“Don’t bet your paycheck on that, Zeke. What you say might be logical, but there ain’t nothing logical about the things we’ve seen.”
The others came back to join us. “There are certain laws of physics,” Chad began. He looked back the way we had come and didn’t finish. Coming down the tunnel was a mob of monsters in Nazi uniforms. Chad sighed. “I hate being wrong.”
“They’re picking up speed,” Andi said. “That’s not humanly possible.”
“They’re not human,” I said. “We’re the only humans down here.”
“I could shoot a couple of them,” Zeke said, “but I don’t have enough bullets for all them.”
“They’re already dead,” I pointed out. “Bullets aren’t going to be much help.”
“So, we run,” Zeke said.
“We run,” I said.
We ran.
A few minutes later, Zeke slowed. “Keep going,” he told me. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop for anything.”
I noticed he had removed his pack.
I slowed to his pace. “You hurt?”
“No. Keep the others going. I’ll join you in a moment.”
“What are you thinking—”
He seized the front of my parka with his left hand and yanked me forward until we were nose to nose. “Tank, stop arguing. Do as I say.” He pushed me back with surprising strength.
I hesitated.
“Here, take this.” He handed me his backpack. It was then I realized he held something in his hand.
One of the explosive charges.
“Zeke—”
“So, help me, Tank, I’m gonna slap you so hard your head will spin on your shoulders. Now go take care of the others. You’re eating up my escape time.”
I don’t respond well to threats, but for some reason, his worked nicely. I was on the move.
It didn’t take long for me to catch the others. They were running out of juice. Too much distance, too much cold, too much fear.
“Where’s . . . Zeke?” Andi asked, trying to catch her breath.
“He said he’d catch up.”
“How is that possible? We can’t leave him—”
A masculine voice rolled down the corridor behind us. “Down. Down. Duck and cover. Look away.”
Zeke. And he sounded serious. I grabbed Andi and pushed her to the ice, covering her with my body. I knew what was coming, but the others didn’t.
Brenda didn’t hesitate. She and Daniel were on the ice, their backs to the corridor, Brenda placing her body between Daniel and whatever was coming. “Oh God,” she said, “oh sweet, loving God.” I’m not sure, but I think that might have been her first prayer.
“What is going on?” Chad remained on his feet.
But not for long. Zeke executed a perfect crack-back tackle and they landed hard. I heard an “Oof” from Chad.
No more time for words or thoughts. The sound jabbed my ears, and a gust of wind that would have swamped a good size ship rolled over us. The air was warm and stank of something burning. I hoped I was inhaling stuff from the explosion and not the burned bits of Nazi zombies.
“Ow, my ears,” Chad said. “Ow, my back. Ow, my everything.”
He was right. My bones seemed to vibrate like a tuning fork, my innards jiggle like Jell-O, and someone was beating a gong in my head.
“I think you can get off me now, Big Guy.” Andi’s voice sounded distant. “I can’t breathe.”
“Oh, sorry.” I rolled off her and sat up. Just as I expected, more pain. I struggled to my feet and saw a light skimming the top of the ice. My flashlight. I retrieved it and pointed the beam down the corridor.
There wasn’t much of a corridor anymore. It looked like an avalanche had happened fifty feet behind us. Nothing was going to be coming or going up that passageway anytime soon.
“What is the matter with you, Zeke?” Chad said. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”
“Sorry. I thought a smart man like you would have listened and got down.”
“That’s it. Physical attack and now you question my intelligence. I’m gonna kick you to the curb.”
Zeke rose and swayed on his feet a moment. “Really? When you gonna do that?”
Chad paused for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe next month. You got any time then?”
“I’ll check my calendar.” Zeke helped Chad up.
“Brenda? Daniel?” I said.
“You guys okay?”
Daniel spoke first. “My ears hurt, but I’m good. Mom?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Brenda pushed herself upright. “That’s it, guys. I’m done with all this. I’m planning a career in fast food.”
I pulled Brenda and Daniel close and hugged them. I kissed Brenda on the head. She hates it when I do that.
“Get off me, you giant side of beef.”
I kissed her on the head again. She didn’t resist.
“How much of that stuff did you use?” I asked Zeke.
“Beats me. I just grabbed one of the charges. It might have been one of the big ones.”
“Might have?” Chad said. “Might have been one of the big ones? Ya think?”
“Hey, I was a little rushed.”
We sat for a minute in silence, each of us letting the realization sink in—we were lucky—or blessed—to be alive.
“Now what?” Brenda asked.
“We finish what we came to do,” I said. That’s when I felt something smack the bottom of my boot.
I wasn’t the only one.
“What was that?” Andi jumped back.
I shone my light on the ice at her feet and wished I hadn’t. Something was looking at us through the ice. Something with sharp teeth and a bad disposition.
Chapter 7
I’m just gonna say it: Since I became part of this team I’ve seen too many things with sharp teeth. I’ve seen a bunch of other creepy things too, but the things with teeth creep me out the most.
“What is that?” Chad’s voice had gone up an octave.
“It’s ugly, is what it is,” Brenda said and took a couple of steps back, keeping Daniel in tow.
I stepped back myself. Something hit the ice beneath my boot—again. A couple of the others jumped and looked down. It appears we each had our own ice eel. I don’t know if was really an eel or not, but, best I could tell, it was shaped like an eel, and had eely eyes that glowed red as they moved through the ice.
“Not possible,” Chad said. “The ice down here is as hard as concrete. Nothing could move through the ice like that. I mean, it’s like they’re swimming through solid ice. It—it’s impossible.”