by TM Catron
“Hello?” he called into the darkness. “Anybody there?” Water dripped from the ceiling onto the floor, the rippling puddle reflecting his flashlight. The shadows didn’t move. Lincoln had not expected a reply, but the silence comforted him nonetheless. “Hello?” Shaking his head, he turned and walked to the entrance.
Mina coughed and opened her eyes. She looked up at the sky, blinking into the sunlight. The Boeing had come to rest at a ninety-degree angle. She hung cinched at her waist by her seatbelt. When she coughed, the seatbelt dug deeper into her abdomen, sending dull pain throughout her body. Her eyes focused on the two now-empty seats next to hers, their blue seatbelts swinging gently in the air toward the middle row.
“Matt,” Mina whispered. But Matt wasn’t there.
Directly below the seatbelts, a woman dangled lifelessly from the row of seats, her arm caught between them, her feet pointing toward the far side of the cabin. She swung, too, like the seatbelts. Mina didn’t want to know if the woman was the mother from the family who had been sitting across from her on the flight over. She couldn’t see the children. She didn’t want to see the children.
Below the woman’s feet, an orange glow crept along the other side of the plane, near the ground. Mina couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. Hot air. Smoke drifted through the cabin. Mina waved it away. It mocked her, sliding through her fingers into her eyes and mouth. The force of her cough sent more dull pain through her head, and Mina closed her eyes, wishing for nothing but sleep.
She groped for the seatbelt release and pulled, sending herself tumbling headfirst into the middle section of seats. She crashed into the aisle seat and groaned at the new pain in her side. The plane shuddered and tilted down. Mina gripped the armrest. Her fingers slipped, and she bounced against the aisle as the plane settled upright with a violent thud. More pain.
Mina stared upward into the smoke. The plane jolted again. An overhead bin opened, spewing suitcases and bags around the cabin. Mina covered her head as a heavy bag landed on top of her. She coughed again and rubbed her eyes against the grit scratching them like sandpaper. Get out.
The funnel of smoke grew thicker as waves of heat radiated through the cabin. Screams drifted through the smoke, over the roar of the fire. She couldn’t stop coughing now. Her head swam, and she tried to cover her nose and mouth with her coat. A hand caught her arm in a strong grip. She turned toward it. A man coughed in the aisle seat from the row behind Mina. Still buckled in, his body leaned into the aisle. Blood covered his face. Mina found his seatbelt and unclasped it, then tugged him down into the aisle out of the densest smoke. His body fell onto hers, and she struggled to untangle herself. His dead weight wouldn’t budge.
The emergency exit had to be close by. She had been sitting two rows behind it. Fire raged to her right. The roar intensified, overpowering everything else, drowning out even the screams. Mina looked for a break in the seats to her left. The exit would be there somewhere.
She turned and shook the man’s shoulder. He coughed violently and pulled himself off of her, jamming his body against the seats so she could slide out from under him. Then he slumped down again. Mina turned back to resume her search, pulling herself along the aisle. A strip reflected the firelight. Mina stared at it. Did it mark the exit? She couldn’t reach it. Her body was too sluggish. Weak.
Before summoning the strength to pull herself to it, Mina raised up halfway and looked back at the man. “Hey,” she called. “HEY! Wake up!” The intense heat overcame her, and she choked, ribs almost cracking with the force of her cough. She laid her head on the floor. No, the exit is right there. I shouldn’t stop. Her eyelids sagged, seeking relief from the fumes. But her eyes still burned. And her lungs.
Heat scorched her body as the inferno overtook the cabin. Seats moved. Mina sensed them sinking below her. Probably the plane was breaking up. The sound of metal twisting onto more metal mixed with the roar of the fire. A great rush of air whirled around her, billowing smoke through the cabin and around Mina. Her hair whipped into her face. Then the roar of the fire stopped as her hearing went dull. Mina couldn’t summon the energy to open her eyes again.
Trees grew in a straight line bordering the old railroad. The rails had long since been removed, leaving an easy path through the woods near the mine. While Lincoln had been in the tunnels, a temporary camp was constructed away from the service road under the cover of the trees at the mountain’s base. The afternoon sun shone weakly in a pale sky. The valley would be dark soon.
Lincoln sighed. He’d been disappointed to learn they would be camping. Camping was alright, but all Lincoln wanted now was a hot shower and a soft bed. Instead, he would be sleeping in a sleeping bag inside a tiny bivouac. Probably his feet would hang out the end of it.
Corporal Schmidt hurried toward Lincoln. The soldier’s fresh, boyish face contrasted sharply with the large gun at his hip. He’d dogged Lincoln ever since they had left APV, asking questions as soon as Lincoln woke in the dark Humvee. Lincoln shouldn’t be annoyed, but he was. He was tired, too. Ready to find his tent and set it up.
“Ah, Smith,” said Lincoln.
“Schmidt, sir.”
“Schmidt. Tell my team Colonel’s ordered blackout tonight. No campfires, flashlights, cigs, nothing after twilight.”
“Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you.”
Lincoln sighed. He was in no mood to deal with Nash.
“He was pissed when you went down there without him.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a bit.” Lincoln checked his phone, hoping for a signal. It was dead. Great. A man swore loudly from somewhere in the green sea of tents. Nash. Why did the colonel irritate him? He barely knew the guy.
“Surrey!” Nash called.
Lincoln resignedly clipped his phone back to his belt.
“Surrey!” said Nash when Lincoln arrived at his tent. He held a stack of papers in one hand. “You can’t follow one simple order. I told you to wait while I assembled a team!”
“I just went to check it out.”
“You could have run into trouble.”
Lincoln shrugged. “But I didn’t. Besides, you could have had my designated shadow follow me in.”
“By the time Schmidt realized you were gone, we couldn’t. That place is a labyrinth. But it’s lucky you took the only map, isn’t it?” Nash tossed down the papers.
“Obviously, I needed it, or you wouldn’t have given it to me,” said Lincoln. “Anyway, it was a bust. The only open room was too big to see into with just a flashlight. Cummings didn’t tell you anything about it? What are we looking for, exactly?”
“We’re awaiting further orders. What was so important you risked getting trapped down there to go see?”
Lincoln shrugged, thinking of the video in his pocket.
“From now on, you do as I say. This is my op.” Nash walked over to a small table and picked up a black semiautomatic in a plain holster. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“I do. Is it necessary I have one?”
“It’s not standard procedure, but considering the circumstances, I’d feel better if your team was armed.”
“Expecting trouble?”
“Trouble usually finds you when you’re not expecting it.” He trained his steely eyes on Lincoln. “We should have heard from them by now.”
“Cummings?”
“Anybody.” He paused to let his words sink in.
Lincoln rubbed his eyes. They burned with exhaustion. “What does that have to do with me carrying a gun?”
“Don’t know what’s going to happen.” Nash held out the sidearm for Lincoln.
Lincoln took the gun Nash offered him and clipped it to his belt, moving his phone to the other hip. Great, I’m a gun-toting engineer.
“What about the others?”
Lincoln shook his head. “I don’t think they have much experience.”
“Just you, then.”
Nash crossed the tent, opened the flap, and held it for Li
ncoln. “Word of advice. Having a gun doesn’t mean you should go off on your own. If you can’t follow orders, you’ll be out.”
Lincoln paused to face Nash. Nash’s blue eyes shone sharply in the pale sunshine. They reminded Lincoln of his father—but a wrong version of him. Before Adam died, he had been frail and weak from the cancer that was attacking his body. But he’d still been working to connect to Lincoln, working to keep the bitter young man on the straight and narrow. Nash was making clear he didn’t want to work with Lincoln. Why he was even thinking of his father right now? “You need me,” he said to Nash.
“Maybe.”
Schmidt was waiting for Lincoln outside the tent. Lincoln had hoped he would remain behind, but the kid followed him back to the base of the tree where Lincoln had piled his gear. Lincoln rummaged through the bags, looking for his phone charger. Thankfully, the kid seemed through with asking questions.
Nash had some nerve. If Lincoln’s team was to help at all, they needed to know everything they could about this place. He was glad he’d had the presence of mind to get the video. But what are we going to do in that mine? Lincoln tossed his tent at Schmidt. “Go set that up, and make sure it’s nowhere near Nash’s.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hey, and Schmidt—when you’re finished, I don’t need anything else.”
Schmidt trotted off, eager to please. Or to get away. Lincoln didn’t care which. His irritation was growing by the minute. The ARCHIE facility had provided no clues or help thus far. He wished Cummings had told him exactly what he was supposed to find useful in there.
Having found his charger, Lincoln pulled his brown leather messenger bag across his body and the straps of the Army green duffel and sleeping bags over one shoulder.
“Lincoln!” He turned to see Alvarez jogging toward him wearing odd layers to ward off the cold spring air: plaid sweater over jeans, and a spring beige coat that flapped out ridiculously beneath the camouflage Army jacket Schmidt had loaned her on the road.
Two soldiers sped through the trees in a lightweight all-terrain vehicle that sounded like a buzz saw. Alvarez waited for them to pass. With its tall roll cage and low center of gravity, the ATV looked like the offspring of a golf cart and a four-wheeler. As they watched, it sputtered and rolled to a halt fifty yards away. The soldiers waited a minute in confusion before getting out.
“Did you find something?” Lincoln asked, deciding not to comment on the coat.
“Check your phone.”
“Can’t. It’s dead. What’s up?”
“I sent you the topographical map, but I have the paper copy.”
Alvarez fished an elevation map out of her pocket and handed it to Lincoln. She pulled her jacket closer around her. “Without the right equipment, it’s hard to tell. But we thought something looked off when we were driving in, so we pulled out the maps while you were in the tunnels. The mountain is shaped like a cone.” Alvarez’s voice rose slightly with her revelation.
“What?”
“A cone. You know, a perfect circle at the base and a single vertex . . .”
“I know what a cone is, but how?”
The two soldiers with the ATV opened the hood. One fiddled with the buttons on his radio.
“Looks like they broke down.”
“Yeah.”
Lincoln and Alvarez turned toward camp and walked over to the other members of the team, who had their gear spread out on rocks under a tree. Carter sketched something in the small leather book he always carried with him while Nelson pulled the battery cover off his laptop.
“What’s wrong with your laptop?” asked Lincoln.
Nelson pulled out the battery. “It died, just after I sent the map to your phone.”
“You can charge it with my portable battery. I have it with me.” Lincoln dropped the duffel and sleeping bag and opened his messenger bag.
“No. I had full battery. Must be something else.”
Carter opened the map, spreading it out on the rock for Lincoln. He lit a cigarette from the dwindling pack in his pocket. “If you look at the mountain, starting with the base,” he said, “you’ll see it's a circle. From there, the elevation changes regularly in concentric circles rising to the peak, which is directly over the center.” Carter handed Lincoln his sketchbook, where he’d drawn a three-dimensional representation that mimicked the elevation map. The mountain did indeed look like a cone.
Lincoln examined the sketch. “Is this accurate? I was only gone a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, about that,” said Carter. “Next time you go exploring, Indiana, you should take your team with you.”
“When we got here, Nash wanted to send a huge team. And to avoid it, I just slipped off while Smith wasn’t looking. I didn’t have time to come get you. I got video, too, and I’ll show you if I can get my phone charged.”
“Uh huh,” said Nelson, separating the CPU from the motherboard and swearing. “Circuits are completely fried.”
Carter walked over to peer at Nelson’s laptop. “Huh. What do you think would have caused that?”
“I would’ve taken you with me . . . ” continued Lincoln.
“Relax, Lincoln, we know,” said Alvarez.
“There he is,” said Lincoln, looking over toward the edge of camp, where Schmidt was standing and watching them.
“He’s just a groupie,” smirked Nelson.
“Or a spy-in-training,” added Carter.
Lincoln flipped through the sketches. “More importantly, why is this mountain shaped like a cone? And is there any way to verify and measure it?”
“Don’t know,” said Alvarez, shaking her head. “We aren’t equipped for that kind of measurement. You’ll have to ask Nash if they can do it. But have we considered it’s for communication? That’s what we’re out here for, right? Maybe ARCHIE built it as some sort of signal conductor.”
“Built the mountain?” Nelson looked up from his dismantled laptop. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Last week I would have said it was crazy. Today we have hostile alien towers positioned in every major city across the globe, so it’s not a stretch to assume a lot of impossible things are now possible.”
“Or maybe we’re all going nuts,” said Lincoln. “Hallucinating. Tomorrow morning I’ll wake up in bed and realize I dreamed the whole thing.”
“The math doesn’t lie,” said Alvarez.
“But our eyes do. Let’s check it again tomorrow.” He pulled out the map of the mine and stared at it again. Several tunnels branched off to the left and right from the main tunnel, each side tunnel unfinished on the map. Only the tunnels that led to the ARCHIE facility were completed and marked with small arrows. What was ARCHIE doing down there? Lincoln turned to hand the sketchbook back to Carter, but the man had disappeared behind a tree. Instead, Lincoln shoved the book into his coat pocket to free both hands.
Alvarez nodded at the gun at Lincoln’s hip. “Good thing your sister isn’t here to see that.”
He shrugged. “She knows how to use one, too, but you’d never get her to admit it.” An avid hunter, Lincoln’s father had made sure both his children could handle a weapon. Lincoln hadn’t owned a gun in years, but he was already remembering what it felt like to handle one. Thinking of his sister, Lincoln pulled his phone off the clip and plugged it into the portable battery he’d offered to Nelson. Mina’s plane should have landed a few hours ago. He pressed the power button and waited for the screen to light up with the telltale lightning charge symbol.
“Did Nash give you the gun?” Alvarez asked.
“Yes.”
“Why would he do that? We’re surrounded by armed soldiers.”
She was right—arming civilians seemed out of place. “Don’t know. A little weird, but he did say he hadn’t heard from anyone yet, and was still awaiting orders.”
“What about Cummings?”
“Nope. No one.”
Alvarez frowned.
Nelson interrupted. “So are you going to
tell us what you found?”
“I don’t really know what I found,” said Lincoln. But once Carter returned, he told them everything he had seen, describing the corridors in detail, the locked door, and the large round room.
Alvarez tugged the map out of his hands. “I think we need to go check out the circular room before we explore these other tunnels,” she said after examining it. “We’ll have to wait for them to finish setting up camp. I think they plan on going in tomorrow morning.”
“This whole thing is starting to bug me,” said Lincoln. “We were sent here to finish our program to communicate with the aliens. What does this facility have to do with any of it? I’d like to go back in there with more light to look around.”
“Let’s do it tonight,” said Carter, lighting another cigarette.
“At night?” questioned Alvarez.
“Yes,” agreed Lincoln. “It’s pitch-black in those tunnels, anyway. Doesn’t matter what time of day it is down there.”
“Okay,” said Carter. “What do we need?”
“Wait a minute,” said Lincoln. He gestured at the kid. “Hey!”
Schmidt jogged over dutifully.
“Yes, sir?”
“Why don’t you set up our other tents. Near mine.”
“Yes, sir.”
“When’s dinner?”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Okay, then, you better hurry.”
“I think,” remarked Carter after Schmidt had hauled away their tents, “that you enjoy having someone to order around, Lincoln.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” said Nelson. “He’d love it if we’d all do that for him—obey his every command.”
Lincoln ignored them and turned back to his phone and battery pack.
“He’s just following orders,” said Alvarez as she pulled out a tablet and pressed the power button. “Huh. The tablet’s not working.” She dropped it.
Lincoln looked over at her. “That’s probably why it won’t work. You drop it too much.” The screen on his phone remained black, and he examined the portable battery. The tiny lights on it were dark, too. He unplugged everything and tried again. Nothing.