“Go look in the drawers in our vanity,” she whispered back. “One of them is bound to have a couple of bandages. I have a utility blade in my supply trunk. Go to the washroom and I’ll get my things together.”
“Okay, but hurry; we don’t have much time.”
“All right.”
“Be sure to bring your L-Gen scanner. I have a feeling it’s gonna come in handy.”
“I will.”
Cloaked in darkness, they kissed once more and separated.
Armada clumsily felt his way through the sleeping chambers, past the bank of lockers, and arrived at the doorway to the restrooms and vanity. Not knowing where they kept their personal hygiene supplies, he blindly fished about the countertop. After knocking over something obviously made of glass, he decided to just stay put until Chloe was ready to go.
“Armada,” she soon hissed, feeling for his body, “where are you?”
“I’m over here, next to the sinks.”
She found his outstretched hand and clutched his fingers tightly as he reeled her into him.
“Did you find anything we can use?”
“I can’t see a thing and I don’t know what I’m touching. I think I broke something.”
“Here,” she said, releasing her grasp on his hand. “Let me check the L-Gen. Maybe when I power it up there’ll be enough light to help us find what we’re looking for.”
Chloe removed the laser pulse generator from her small duffle bag and depressed the power button. Sure enough, the rechargeable, battery-powered generator lit up the entire vanity area of the restroom. The pale green underglow of the miniscule keyboard and digital display screen emitted just enough light, allowing her and Armada to inspect her roommates’ drawers and personal belongings.
“Ah-ha!” she lowly exclaimed, reaching to the back of a drawer, “I knew it!”
She withdrew her arm and in her hand she held a roll of medical tape.
“Aphrodite Five doesn’t like wearing gloves during harvesting, so she’s always getting cuts and blisters.”
“Excellent! Let’s go.”
Chloe gently squeezed his bicep and drew him closer.
“Where can we go?” she asked, powering down the L-Gen.
“Don’t freak out when I tell you, but I have no clue as to where we’re supposed to go. But,” he paused and delicately pressed his cheek to hers, “what you’re about to witness … just … trust me … you’ll have absolutely no worries. Okay?”
She quietly nodded her head in agreement.
“All right, you lead the way.”
Chloe grasped his wrist and instinctively led him out of the bathroom, down the short hallway, through the den area, and out the door to the dormitory corridor. Once in the hallway, Armada paused then reached for his upper left arm pocket.
“What’re you doing?” she excitedly asked. “Why are we stopping? They’re gonna catch us!”
“I don’t have time to explain right now, just gimme your utility blade.”
Armada removed the tiny swatch of radar-deflecting fabric from his pocket. Chloe reached into her bag and pulled out the small, retractable utility knife.
“Now,” he said, taking the knife, “get out the medical tape, and tear it into six four-inch long strips.”
He firmly pressed the fabric against the wall and began slicing it down the middle. The dense metal and carbon fiber material was extremely difficult to cut, especially with such a short, thin, and flimsy blade. But just as Chloe finished ripping the last strip of tape, he managed to cut through the few remaining strands of woven wires.
“Here we go,” he stated, handing her the tiny patch. “Locate the RFID in my shoulder, lay this directly on top, then tape it in place. This will be our only protection against the WATCHER scans.”
“What?” she exclaimed, as Armada unzipped and peeled back his suit. “You didn’t disable the program?!”
“No … I didn’t. At the moment I was more focused on breathing and staying alive, rather than….”
“Great!” she sarcastically declared. “Now they’ll know exactly where we are.”
“Just … will you please keep your voice down … and tape the swatch,” he snipped.
Chloe gruffly felt his shoulder, located the imbedded microchip, and firmly patted the fabric and tape in place.
“Thanks,” he sternly said, pulling up and zipping his suit. “My turn.”
Chloe turned away from him, pulled her hair to the side, and tilted her head. Armada poked her exposed flesh, not at all trying to find the transponder buried inside her.
“Ouch!” she complained. “Is it necessary to jab me that hard?”
“All right, found it,” he said.
He lay the fabric on her shoulder and swiftly secured it.
“Now, prepare to be amazed,” he stated.
With an encouraging smile, he held out his hand and the couple laced their fingers together.
Looking up, he confidently declared, “Okay, we’re ready now.”
Not knowing what to expect, Chloe’s eyes darted about the dimly-lit dormitory corridor. She twisted her neck to see behind them, but nothing out of the ordinary appeared. Feeling fearful, she leaned against Armada’s right arm and squeezed tightly.
“I said we’re ready!” he repeated with much zeal. “Show us where you want us to go. We’ll follow you. Please!”
The brightly illuminated keypads of the secured dormitory doorways suddenly ceased to shine, leaving Chloe and Armada once again stranded in total darkness.
“Uh … is this where I’m supposed to be amazed?” she smartly mumbled.
“Hold on,” he snapped. “Just … hold on a second.”
From out of nowhere the shimmering orb appeared, passing between them, and zoomed down the corridor.
“C’mon!” he said, with a yank on her arm.
“You can talk to it?” she asked as they broke into a run.
“It hears me, I know that much!”
Chloe chased after Armada as he followed and tried to keep in pace with the glowing cloud of swirling colors.
She watched in amazement and curiousity how the orb controlled and manipulated the power. At first she didn’t catch it, but after completing their third turn, it suddenly dawned on her: wherever the orb goes, the lights, video cameras, motion sensors, and embedded microphones shut down. Furthermore, power doesn’t return until after they pass through the darkened areas.
It’s protecting us, she thought as she ran. It’s shielding us from being seen.
She surmised that this thing, whatever it was or wherever it came from, had chosen to reveal itself to them, specifically, and was purposely guiding and leading them to safety.
Armada rounded the next corner and froze in his tracks.
The shining mass was hovering in front of a junction of three hallways and an elevator. Suddenly, the orb increased in size, as if to block the duo from advancing any further. Chloe joined him a moment later and stood silent and still by his side.
“I think we’re supposed to stop here,” he suggested. “What is this place?”
“This is one of the unutilized wings of our dormitories,” Chloe replied. “I heard they’re different from our normal rooms. I think that these come with larger beds, private restrooms, and showers. But I’ve never known of these suites being used … ever. It’s like a hotel just waiting for customers.”
Armada pondered the information, then humbly asked the sphere, “Are we supposed to stop here? Is this where you want us to go?”
He waited for a sign of some sort, but the sphere showed no response.
“Or, maybe we’re not supposed to go down this corridor or use that particular elevator?”
The sphere emitted a brilliant flash of purple light.
“That’s it? Don’t use this elevator and corridor? Is that what you’re trying to tell us?”
The orb confirmed his guess by once again emitting a pulse of purple light.
It quickl
y shrank to its original size, meandered down the hallway to Armada’s right, and came to an abrupt halt at the next-to-last doorway on the left. Armada witnessed the door swing open and watched the orb enter the room.
They approached the half-opened door, entered the suite, and swiftly inspected their surroundings. Chloe then lowered her bag to the floor and followed Armada out of the room to the end of the wide, lightless hallway. He reached out and began feeling the wall for a motion sensor or manual light switch. The couple was caught off guard when the glowing orb passed through the wall, rose above them, and shone brightly. Both were amazed with what lay before them.
“It’s an atrium,” Chloe remarked, lowly. “It brought us to an atrium.”
Armada briskly moved ahead of her to a series of several wide doors, hinged on both sides, and two stainless steel, roll-down shutters. Chloe followed a curved walkway to a vast open area with stacks of boxes containing unassembled tables and chairs. Only a few had been removed from their cardboard shells and put together.
“Chloe!” Armada loudly whispered. “Come check this out!”
She hurriedly doubled back to the pathway entrance and saw the orb on the far side of the atrium, hovering next to one of the multihinged partitions.
“Chloe! C’mon!” he beckoned.
“Okay, I’m here,” she announced. “What is it?”
“Do you know where we are?” Armada laughingly asked.
“No, not really. But from the looks of it out there, I’d say we’re in a general social area, like a commons.”
The sphere of swirling colors unexpectedly zipped to the middle of the atrium, swelled up like a hot air balloon, and blazed magnificently.
“It brought us to a cafeteria!” he ecstatically hollered. “It led us directly to a source of food and water. Isn’t this amazing?”
Now bathed in radiant white light, the food service area sprang to life. Stacks and trays of fine China, silverware, boxes containing crystal glasses, pots, pans, and utensils; everything essential to the preparation of food. Steam tables, flat grills, convection ovens, deep fryers, gas grills; the discoveries seemed endless.
They excitedly wandered through the gargantuan kitchen, calling out to each other what they spied.
As they approached the spacious dry goods area, the two split up and repeated the process from both sides of the enormous shelving units. Similar to a home improvement store, the distance between aisles was wide enough to accommodate a forklift or electric pallet jack.
“Crackers, potato chips, pasta, mixed nuts, peanut butter…,” Armada rattled off.
Chloe answered with “Sugar, brown sugar, flour, corn grits, steel cut oats, honey, syrup….”
After a sightseeing tour of the palletized bulk food, they then came upon three humongous refrigerated units resting side by side. Each was equipped with a tall, roll-down overhead door on one end and several extremely wide steel doors that were disbursed evenly down the length of one side.
“Shall we?” Armada asked cordially, bowing slightly.
“Yes, let’s shall,” she replied with a curtsey.
He gave a slight tug of the handle and pulled the heavy metal door open. After passing through a hanging plastic curtain, the duo were amazed with what they saw.
“See?” Armada asked. “This proves my point! Wyczthack and White are up to something big and they’re prepping for a limited number of survivors. Let me rephrase that: a well-planned, limited number of preselected survivors.”
Chloe didn’t respond.
Stacked high on industrial shelving units, the couple found pallets and crates of frozen food. The reality of Armada’s hypothesis became clear as they slowly strode the gargantuan deep freeze.
“Sirloin, ground beef, chicken breast, ribeye steak … this is incredible.”
Chloe walked ahead of Armada to the opposite end of the chilly storage container.
She began calling out the content of the shrink-wrapped boxes as she slowly stepped in Armada’s direction, “Frozen catfish, salmon, shrimp, squid, trout, albacore tuna, thresher shark, mako, tilapia, mahi-mahi….”
“Meatloaf, pork chops, pork tenderloin, filet, baby back ribs, roast, brisket….”
The pair hollered their findings to one another as they gradually approached the center of the frigid storeroom.
“How high would you estimate these racks are, including inventory?” he asked.
“No less than twenty feet. Twenty-one to twenty-two feet maximum,” she replied.
They stood in the middle of the freezer, gawking in disbelief at the volume and variety of frozen food. After a few moments of silent incredulity, the twosome turned and exited through the door at the end of the unit.
They faced the overhead door and looked above the top of the frame. There, below an amber-domed flashing light, was a sign reading ‘FZ1.’ As they strolled over to the next unit, its sign read ‘FZ2.’ Continuing on, the third unit was labeled ‘RF1.’
“What’re we doing?”
“I want to confirm something,” he said.
Armada tugged on the handle and the couple entered the refrigerated unit. The door closed behind them with a dense thud that echoed throughout the cavernous room.
“Ah-ha!” Armada stated, pointing, “See? Empty! I knew it!”
“So? What does that matter?”
“This unit is for fresh, perishable foods. Milk, fruits, vegetables, stuff that’s gonna be used and consumed now, or very soon.”
“I still don’t understand where you’re going with this.”
“It’s empty. There’s nothing here. They haven’t started sending up perishables from the docks, or down from Eden. We’ve still got time to figure this all out.”
Chloe’s face lit up when she understood Armada’s observation, “Oh! No fresh food means Wyczthack isn’t ready!”
“Exactly!”
“So when we find them sending up perishables, that’ll be the signal that Cain and Dr. White are getting ready to pull the plug!”
“You got it!”
Chloe sprang at Armada in joyous excitement, wrapping her arms around his neck. He clutched her firmly against him, swinging her from side to side.
“Oh, my gosh!” she exclaimed, releasing her grasp.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, lowering her to the floor.
“C’mon!” she demanded, yanking his hand. “I just thought of something.”
“I don’t know why I didn’t notice this earlier,” she confessed as she briskly led him out of the cooler. “Look at the floor markings.”
Chloe pointed down at the black and yellow ‘Caution’ stripes running throughout the maze of shelving.
“It’s painted for forklift traffic. They go into the deep freeze and refrigerated units through the overhead doors on the ends and people use the side entries. Which tells me they can deliver anything at any time, from the docks or Eden. There’s another elevator chamber we haven’t seen yet.”
The two followed the markings past the dry goods and bulk storage shelves to a battery charging station. There they found three six-thousand-pound-capacity electric forklifts. Beside those were four electric pallet jacks and extra batteries for all seven machines.
Armada climbed up into the driver’s seat on one of the forklifts and turned the key.
“It’s got a full charge,” he said, looking at the gauge.
Chloe walked ahead of Armada, out of the charging station, and stopped in front of the hidden SUBOS cargo elevator. Armada joined her, staring at the shiny metal overhead door.
He noticed that the door opened and closed by way of digital keypad and retinal scanner.
“Well, I’m assuming that when someone is notified of an arrival, then that someone is responsible for confirming that what’s on the manifest matches up with what’s actually on hand.”
They both stepped toward a freestanding kiosk to the side of the rolling door. Armada powered up the tablet and logged on using his forged Dr. White cr
edentials. The screen had only a few preset commands and functions and three input tabs named ‘MANIFEST #,’ ‘MANIFEST SEARCH,’ and ‘S/R AUTHORIZATION.’ He tapped the ‘MANIFEST SEARCH’ tab and selected the ‘History’ command. In a flash, a list of materials and goods received filled the screen. Dates, manifest numbers, time, and release and receive authorization codes, every item sent to Sixteen M was listed in chronological order.
“When was the last harvest from Eden shipped out?” he asked Chloe as he perused the data.
“Um, I’d say at eight or nine last night. Why?”
“And who generates manifest requests from Eden?”
“Who specifically, we don’t know … we never deal with names, just ID numbers. Orders for distribution are inserted in descending sequence. Everything is harvested, sent to seventeen for cleaning and portioning, and crated up. That’s where they physically set the manifests in order. All we do is tend the garden, harvest the produce, and record yields. Why?”
“Well, if I can create fake login credentials, I should be able to generate an artificial distribution request. That’s if we can find a terminal. The trick will be making an order big enough to accommodate us for a short while without much waste, but not so small that it sends up a red flag.”
“How then do we receive the order when it arrives?” she inquired. “We’ll be found for sure when we use the retinal scanner to open the elevator door.”
She was right. Even though they covered their RFID chips with the radar-deflecting fabric from the SPUD, the retinal scanner would show exactly where they were and at what time the scanner was accessed.
“I’ll just have to figure it out later, not right now,” he said as he powered down the kiosk tablet.
With one final glance at the roll-down door, the pair made their way to the main kitchen entrance.
When they reached the dry goods storage area, Armada plucked a shrink-wrapped case of bottled water and hefted it atop his shoulder. Chloe opened a carton of organic crackers, removed one box, and peeled back the top. Armada glanced up at the tops of the industrial-grade shelving units, stopped dead in his tracks, and lowered the case of bottled water from his shoulder.
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