Doomsday Minus One

by Andrew Dorn

  “Break open the panels.”

  Simon turned to Emmeline, thinking she might need help, but she was already tugging the right side panel, handling the situation with aplomb. Minutes later, they had established an entry to the antechamber beyond. Frank stepped inside the opening, his suit lamp creating harsh shadows in the cramped space. He pulled out the air sampler and flicked it on. There was a slight pause while the device sniffed the air and did its thing. A chime confirmed the numbers were normal and satisfied all was good, he gave a thumbs up gesture to the others.

  “Ok, Gerry, seal up the panels behind us,” Frank said in the suit’s built-in comm system, his voice reverberating in the confined space.

  The trio waited while Gerry and Arturo repositioned the panels behind them. They picked up the characteristic whirr of the seal gun and the acute smell of the compound drafting up into air.

  “Seals are good,” They heard Gerry say, his voice loud and clear over the speakers of the suits. “Good luck, we’ll be following your progress via the feeds.”

  “Understood,” Simon said.

  He shoved the cab’s gate aside and they all shuffled inside it. Motes of dust drifted in the crisp beams of their lamps.

  “Everyone still up for this?” Frank asked.

  Both Emmeline and Simon gestured an affirmative.

  “Down we go, then.”

  Simon punched the button, and the cab started its descent. He felt hyperaware of where he was and what he was about to do. Every odd noise from the elevator made him flinch and he had to restrain himself from punching the emergency stop button. Shutting his eyes, Simon worked to recall the meditation techniques he had studied... but could never master. He had sought to pick up these techniques before, during his early years at LTI. Working underground had been a challenge for him, right from the start. Being a geologist meant making absolutely certain excavations were conducted at the designated spot and that meant going underground. There was no way around it. You had to work below, repeatedly, despite the unease and anxieties which stuck to your psyche like spiderwebs. He got around to controlling most of them but claustrophobia was never far away; it lingered in the dark, ready to jump him.

  “Are you ok?”

  He turned to Emmeline. “Yes, I’m good.”

  He opted to shrug away his discomfort, storing and compartmentalizing it in the storage bin of his subconscious. It was a technique of visualization that occasionally worked, a suggestion Victoria had proposed years ago which he tried to keep alive... like the memory of her.

  Nineteen minutes later, the lift bounced to a stop, the trio springing on their heels as the cab settled. Frank stepped out of the elevator followed by Emmeline and Simon.

  Up in the conference room, Gerry, flanked by Anna and Arturo, tracked their progress. “Guys, we have a good visual.”

  Frank lifted his head to the miniature camera fixed to one of the support beams.

  “Can you hear me, Gerry?”

  “It’s broken up but we can hear you.”

  “We are starting our exploration.”

  Frank nodded to the others and took a step forward. The lamp from his suit shone outward, cutting through the darkness like a lighthouse through fog. Rivulets of water trickled from support struts, wide beams of high-strength plastisteel, which braced the tunnel from side to side. The ground, made slick by the water, was smooth while in other places, heavy metal plates helped the miners navigate from one passageway to the next.

  “Huh, we’re losing you on visual.”

  Frank heard Gerry’s warning but couldn’t do much about it. They had come to the area of the tunnel where the partial collapse had occurred. The camera monitoring the zone had been dislodged and Simon took it upon himself to reposition it. Grabbing the miniature camera housing, he wedged it into a support strut then began to wave with both hands, hoping those upstairs could see him.

  “Gerry? Are you picking me up?”

  “Can you angle it dow—

  Gerry’s reply was cut off but Simon understood most of it. He tweaked the camera’s angle and stood by, waiting for the confirmation.

  “Perfect! Good for us.”

  Pleased, Simon shifted his attention to Frank and Emmeline. They stood in front of a 5 meters wide opening, wide enough for the three of them to pass through without rubbing elbows. The flash of light from the video recording had been much more than a simple light show. Part of the wall had literally been vaporized, turning the rock into dust, which could be seen in small mounds dispersed here and there on the ground. The work site had sustained a major blow, but the super-strong support beams had prevented a full collapse. Still, it wasn’t a good idea to linger around more than necessary.

  Inside the opening, Simon was able to make out a multitude of yellowish pinpoints of light, twinkling in the bright beams of their helmet lights. The tiny gleams were inlaid within the walls and the surface, similar to salt crystals in veins of mineral deposits. He saw Frank step inside the chamber, look left and right, then turn his head to him. Simon followed him inside.

  “Are these typical, run-of-the-mill concretions?” Frank said, pointing at the microscopic specks adorning the chamber.

  “No, I don’t think so. Concretions are just plain old stone. These look, uh, special,” Simon said.

  “They look like tiny marbles,” Emmeline said from outside the chamber.

  Simon took his geologist’s hammer and chipped away part of the wall containing a dozen or so of the tiny shimmering grains. He held the rock in his hand, turning it over to inspect its surface. The glittering golden dots were even more fascinating up close. They appeared to glimmer from within instead of simply reflecting light.

  “I can confirm these marbles of yours are not salt crystals,” Simon said, turning to Emmeline.

  The reflective glow was off the scale to any other mineral he had studied, and he wondered if they had stumbled onto something new... and strange.

  Emmeline and Frank joined Simon in inspecting the brilliant specks up close. They all stared at it for a good minute, each wondering out loud what it could possibly be.

  “It’s spellbinding,” Emmeline whispered.

  She’s right, Simon thought. The golden-tinged particles were unlike any other mineral he had ever seen in his years as a geologist. He couldn’t help but be fascinated by how the light blazed from within, as if powered by an invisible energy source. Though the overall color was yellowish, the pinpoints of light cycled in intensity, producing variations of infinite diversity.

  “Huh, what is that?” Emmeline said, a finger pointing to a spot on the rock.

  Simon turned the rock over, wondering what Emmeline had seen.

  “What the...”

  They observed, transfixed, as the minuscule marbles embedded in the rock began to change shape. The glittering cloud of miniature lights were skimming along the surface, operating as a fluid, fusing together in the blink of an eye. Simon was reminded of blobs of mercury clumping together to form a bigger mass, but on a considerably smaller scale, and much quicker.

  “I think you should put that rock down,” Emmeline said.

  Simon realized he was still handling the rock and let it drop to the ground. “Sweet Jesus!”

  The yellowish ooze was melting the rock away. In the blink of an eye, it changed into a sludge of gooey gelatinous discharge, throbbing with deep, nervous energy. The bubbling cauldron of goo was now the size of a soccer ball and it was swelling as if it had been over-inflated by a runaway air pump. Simon watched in disbelief, intrigued despite himself. The ball of goo flexed and puffed, stretched and contorted, as if it couldn’t decide on a specific shape. Then, without warning, it burst apart, spraying a shower of dark yellow drops all over the place.

  Simon, who was closest to the ball, ducked his head to avoid the spray. He followed with his eyes the path of a gob as it landed with a splat near the support beam, a full 2 meters away. At once, the splotch of sludge inched its way up the beam, leavin
g behind a trail of gooey residue. The yellowish substance began to bury itself into the metal. It was repeating what it had done to the rock only on a considerably larger scale. Another gob of sludge exploded outward with a pop, sailing right over his head.

  “We need to get the hell out of here!” Simon warned, his voice muffled by the mask.

  He had never seen anything like it before. The speed at which the sludge exploded was astonishing. It was like those documentaries on flower reproduction where the full cycle, from blossoming to flowering, was revealed in seconds instead of hours.

  “Look!” Emmeline shouted from behind him.

  Simon pivoted to where Emmeline stared. The upper part of the wall, the one Arturo had drilled, was beginning to tear loose. Huge chunks of rock were tumbling to the ground, in a tumult of dust and noise.

  Astounded, he glimpsed a voluminous space beyond the wall, an opening into a darkened cavity. Acting on reflex, he directed his gaze inside. A sheen of microscopic specks of lights glimmered in the beam of his lamp. There was a slew of stalagmites and a weird oblong and distorted dark mass, coated with salt crystals or even fool’s gold, he couldn’t tell for sure.

  “Oh, no!”

  He heard Emmeline’s shout a millisecond before he felt it.

  A tremor.

  The ground began to shake, jostling everyone around. He sensed the ground buckle under his feet, as if a massive wave had come up from the depths of the planet. He was flung to the ground by the force of it, his helmet flying off. Getting to his knees, he realized with a start he was lying underneath the support beam splattered earlier by the sludge. He dove out of the way, the gooey menace splattering the ground at his feet. He felt someone pull his arm and saw it was Emmeline. The ground heaved up with a low growl, flinging them to the ground.

  “Run!”

  She gripped his elbow, propelling him along as they raced up the tunnel. The ground was vibrating like a deranged sex toy now, speeding up in intensity.

  “Where’s Frank?”

  He had been pondering the same thought when he stumbled over a small boulder blocking the path. Where the hell had this come from? It must have been dislodged by the quake.

  Then he noticed something different about it.

  A familiarity.

  It was no boulder.

  “Frank!”

  The man was sprawled on the floor, facing upwards, and he was clawing at a gob of gooey sludge clinging to his upper torso.

  “Grab his arm!” Simon yelled, the deep noise from the quake drowning out his voice.

  Emmeline sidestepped a puddle of goo then grasped Frank’s arm. The sludge on his torso had started to transform into a ball and Emmeline realized instantly it was about to blow up. She ducked as it burst with a loud pop, sending fat droplets of ooze in her direction. The goo sailed above her head, missing her by a hair. She went back to pulling on Frank’s arm but the man was either heavier than he looked or something was holding him down.

  “Frank!”

  Simon couldn’t believe his eyes. The sludge had flowed over his body, encasing him from chin to waist, leaving only his left hand free to move. In desperation, he shouldered Emmeline aside, braced his feet down and using every ounce of strength, tried to pull Frank away from the sludge.

  “No!”

  Emmeline’s desperate plea sent shivers down Simon’s spine. Through his fogged-up mask, he stared in horror as a large bubble of sludge overtook Frank, his hazmat suit vanishing beneath the gooey matter. Frank’s arm slipped from his grasp and he felt Emmeline drag him backwards as the sludge changed direction and began surging towards them. Then, against all hope, he saw Frank’s right hand emerge from the sludge. It was doing a sideways motion and Simon understood at once it was gesturing for them to flee. To leave. To run and get the hell out of there. Even now, when all seemed lost, Frank was still the man in charge.

  “Come on!”

  Emmeline stood transfixed by the scene.

  “Emmeline!” Simon said in a rush. “There’s nothing we can do for him.”

  She knew he was right but she couldn’t move. Part of her refused to leave behind the man she had known but for a brief moment but had liked from the start.

  What can I do Frank?

  Frank Curtis would have wanted only one thing from her.

  To survive.

  To make it out alive.

  Simon grabbed her by the shoulders. “We have to go!”

  She nodded, then allowed Simon to pull her away as they raced towards the elevator. Running as fast as he could, Simon weaved his way up the tunnel, side stepping rocks as the rumble continued, unabated.

  He reached the lift, flung the gate aside and turned around, hoping to see Emmeline right behind him. But she was nowhere to be seen. He went back a few steps, saw her moving up the tunnel when, without warning, the security webbing affixed to the ceiling tore apart, sending tons of rock to the ground.

  “Emmeline!”

  Feeling his way amid the thick cloud of dust choking the air, he made his way between the bent support struts and tangled steel wires of the tunnel. He couldn’t see more than an arm’s length ahead of him. Fumbling around without his helmet, he suddenly remembered his trusty Petzl headlamp velcroed to his belt. With care, he extracted the headlamp from its pouch, strapped it to his head then flicked the light on. Emmeline was in the middle of the passageway, stumbling among the debris.

  “Emmeline! This way!”

  He could see she was in trouble. Her face mask was damaged, the glass shattered into a spiderweb of fractured lines making it impossible for her to see out. He grasped her hand. “Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine,” she said, short of breath. “But I can’t see a thing!”

  “Hold on.”

  There was a mess of knifelike steel rods hanging from the ceiling but his headlamp picked up a metallic reflection a few meters ahead.

  The elevator!

  Elated, he pressed on, tugging Emmeline onward.

  Just a few steps away.

  15 Tremors

  UP IN THE conference room, Gerry Patterson played once again the last seconds of the video feed from level 16. There were two figures standing around a third one, prone on the ground. There could be no misreading the identity of the person on the floor. Anna would have identified those boots from a thousand others since she herself had inscribed Frank’s initials on them. She turned to Gerry, tears trickling down her cheeks. The shock of fear in her eyes broke his heart but there was nothing he could do about it.

  Unless he went down there himself.

  “We have to help them!” Arturo said, getting to his feet.

  Gerry agreed. But he realized it went against Frank’s wishes. His boss had insisted on sealing up the elevator, knowing full well something like this could happen.

  “To hell with it,” he said out loud to the others. “Let’s go get them!”

  They headed out for the door. There was a flicker in intensity in the overhead lighting, the neons tubes shutting on and off repetitively.

  “Now what?” Gerry said, with a show of hands.

  The power dimmed once, then died altogether, plunging the room in darkness.

  “What’s going on, Gerry?” Arturo asked.

  “I don’t know... must be a power failure,” Gerry said, glancing at the neon tubes. “Just hold on, the main generator should kick in any second now.”

  There was a flicker then a faraway pop, and the lights turned on.

  “Ok, well, we have our power back... but we only have about 15 minutes before it dies. That’s how long the generator will last.”

  Anna and Arturo glanced at each other, then back to Gerry. He had their complete attention. They all knew without power, systems like ventilation, lighting and elevators wouldn’t function.

  And they had three people trapped underground.

  His words were still floating in the air when a tremor shook the room. Gerry and Anna dove underneath the conference room t
able, followed a second later by Arturo. The floor buckled with a loud tearing noise, jolting everything not bolted down. The rumble came and went with astonishing speed, like some mammoth subway car zipping along an underground line. It was over before they even realized it.

  “Anyone hurt?” Gerry said, picking himself up. “Anna?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Arturo?”

  The operator raised a thumb.

  “What the hell was that?”

  Anna shrugged, looking around the room. “I don’t know. An earthquake?”

  “In Maine?” Gerry said, incredulous.

  “Madre de Dios,” Arturo said, eyes wide.

  “It certainly wasn’t no ordinary quake.”

  The lights fluttered, plunging the room into semi-darkness.

  “Come on guys, we only have 15 minutes left. If we want to do something about our people, we have to do it now,” Anna said, glancing at both men in succession.

  The seismic shock had left the main office area in shambles. Part of the roof had caved in while here and there water spurted from broken pipes along cracked walls. Climbing over and around the mess, Anna’s focus was on making it to the central elevator. Time was ticking, and she knew fifteen minutes was way too short a period for what they needed to do. She pressed onwards, glancing back from time to time to see if the others kept up. The emergency lighting was dimming with each passing minute, as if to underscore the need to accelerate the pace. She kept thinking of her father, sprawled on the ground while the others stood around.

  What went wrong down there?

  At last, she spotted the exit door and dashed thru, running down the trail to the adit, a few hundred meters away. The compact building appeared intact, with no outward signs of damage.

  Was it possible it hadn’t been hit by the tremor?

  She flung open the door and halted, letting Gerry and Arturo catch up. The makeshift compartment waited at the end of the short corridor, a sentinel to the metamorphosing underground world.