It didn’t take long before we arrived at the hub of passages where Tukarra and I had been held prisoner what seemed like weeks before. In fact, it must only have been a couple of days ago. Time had little meaning when you were deep underground or even when you were up on the surface now bathed in constant twilight.
But time was not on our side. The strange whining sound and unnerving vibrations filled the chamber we were stood in, reminding us of the urgency of our mission.
Gerland pointed out one passageway and told us that was the way to the Scavenger homestead. He then led us down another passage that apparently went straight to the base of Bunker 7.
Even with the light stick we had to tread carefully. As we walked and talked, I noticed Gerland had progressively become more unsure of himself, less confident, worried even. I had to ask him what the matter was.
He stopped us all in our tracks and gave me a really sheepish look. He hung his head and grimaced.
‘You know that big special gun, the one Tukarra said could clear the foam rock stuff that had filled the bunker.’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Well the way down to the basement entrance was also sealed with a plug of the same stuff. So I remembered where we had left the gun, brought it down here, and fired it at the wall of artificial rock.’
‘Yes. And,’ I said.
‘Well to cut a long story short. I missed.’
‘You missed a wall of rock, how big?’
‘About three metres in diameter. I was trying to work out how best to get hold of the gun when it went off in my hands.’
‘I think I can see what’s coming now,’ I said. ‘What did you hit?’
‘The wall of the tunnel. I think it must have been made from limestone, an organic rock. The walls and ceiling started to turn to dust, and the floor of the tunnel began to collapse. I had to run. I had to retreat to a point just ahead of where we are now stood.’
Trying hard not to either scold Gerland or laugh at him I said, ‘This I have got to see for myself.’
The next few steps led us to where Gerland had dropped the gun on the floor. He stared at the gun where it lay. He looked shocked now, he was clearly in awe of its potential for destruction. He said he didn’t ever want to touch it again.
Tukarra picked the gun up and did something to make it safe.
A few steps more and our sandstone passageway came to an abrupt end, beyond which there appeared to be nothing. There was a pitch black void as far as you could see in all directions.
Gerland put his light stick on the floor behind us, so our eyes could adjust to the darkness of the abyss ahead.
When at last we could make out some wispy details, Tukarra and I were both struck dumb for a moment.
Directly in front of us, and in perfect alignment with our tunnel, but a good stone’s throw away, was the artificial rock plug Gerland had tried to shoot at with the gun. It was suspended on a narrow, snaking, bridge composed of a milky glass like substance - probably calcite (the stuff stalagmites are made of). All around there were similar bridges, of all shapes and sizes, weaving in every direction. Some were potentially useful as a bridge to walk on, most were not.
Tukarra waved a hand around the scene, pointing out the web of bridges. She said it looked like we were inside a giant sponge, with enormous holes in it. The limestone had been eaten away for miles around us. All that was left were the veins of calcite inclusions that once rippled through the limestone.
There was a distant crack, followed by swathes of heavy crashing noises. We all turned our heads to see one of the bridges collapsing and hitting others on its way down into the inky depths of the void.
‘It’s those vibrations,’ I gasped. ‘They are getting more intense. They’re going to bring the whole structure down on us if we don’t get a move on.’
Tukarra firmly gripped the strange gun and asked Gerland and me to stand back. She confidently took aim and fired at the circular rock plug in front of us. The bullet easily travelled the twenty metre distance and hit the pumice like plug dead centre.
A smouldering ribbon of scarlet spread from the point of impact and, in all, some fifty or so metres of the artificial rock was transformed into dust. It fell from the bridge like a cloud of sifted flour down into the abyss.
Holding the gun high in the air, Tukarra said, ‘That’s exactly what this gun was intended to do. That’s how you are supposed to use it!’ Then she calmly and professionally reset the safety mechanism.
The removal of the rock plug allowed us to see the armoured steel basement door into Bunker 7. This was probably the first time the door had been visible to anyone in a billion years. It seemed to float there, fixed in a wall of granite, at the end of more than seventy metres of meandering and gently undulating glassy calcite bridge.
I couldn’t help but state the obvious, ‘It was fortunate the Bunker was built into a different rock type. Otherwise the whole building would have fallen into the void by now. Even so, it looks like some of its foundations have been undermined. See, there are large cracks appearing. The rock is crumbling.’
Gerland asked us who would like to be the first to cross the bridge. I started to open my mouth but Tukarra put her hand on my lips saying, ‘I’ll go first. I’m probably the lightest. You two can bring the explosives with you.’
With that, she stood tall on the tips of her toes. Then, keeping her long legs straight, she deftly and elegantly walked, like a ballet dancer, or a gymnast working the beam, all the way along the bridge, sweeping any remaining piles of ash over each edge with a few flicks of her feet.
When she finally reached a small ledge by the stout metal door, Tukarra turned on her heels to face us. She had clearly enjoyed the challenge and waved excitedly for us both to come over to her. From her point of view the two of us must have looked like space aliens, silhouetted against the ring of bright green light in the tunnel behind us, casting long shadows across the bridge towards her.
It turned out Gerland had a problem with the bridge.
‘I’m not normally afraid of heights,’ he said, biting his tongue, his lips quivering. ‘It’s just that there’s nothing below us. It’s a bottomless pit. And I can’t see how this thing you call a bridge stays up.’
‘Cling on to my backpack,’ I said. ‘We’ll cross over together. And don’t look down! I’ll make sure I have a good footing before I take any step forward. Above all, keep calm.’
Gerland grabbed hold of the straps securing the haversack to my torso, arched his own back, pressed the top of his head onto the rear pouch, and closed his eyes.
Hitched up together, we crossed the bridge with all the elegance and grace of a pantomime horse.
But just as our goal was in reach, disaster struck. A loud cracking sound came from above us. The ceiling over the void had caved in. Dim yellow light, and shimmering rods of rain, found their way into our chasm. I knew this was not a good sign and reached out for Tukarra.
A second later, great lumps of rock, mud, and dirt came hurtling towards us. The rockfall took out a couple of the bridges above us and the whole accumulation crashed down onto ours. Our bridge was one of the strongest we had seen, and it might have survived the onslaught. However, a few dozen land-mines had come tumbling down along with the dirt and just one connected with our bridge. The sound of the explosion was deafening, and the bridge disintegrated into large chunks that tumbled down into the darkness, out of sight.
As the bridge fell away from under my feet, I was left clinging onto Tukarra’s hands, like a trapeze artist. She dropped flat onto the granite ledge to ensure she wouldn’t be pulled over the edge. We locked our eyes on each other, a look of extreme terror on our faces.
‘I can’t hold on,’ she screamed.
We were asking too much of her, what with my own weight, the over stuffed backpack, and Gerland hanging on for dear life.
There would only be seconds left before the pain in Tukarra’s fingers forced her to let go, and she was s
imply not strong enough to lift us an inch.
I couldn’t help. There was nothing to put my feet on, nothing else to reach out for. It was the end of the line.
It was then Gerland came to the same conclusion.
‘I’m so sorry, I’ve messed things up again,’ he shouted. ‘Tell Tom to get laid if you see him. Good luck and goodbye.’
And with that he let go of the straps. I looked down between my feet to see his face, eyes wide, staring up at me, shrinking in size, fading into the distance.
‘Noooo!’ I shouted as Tukarra managed just enough strength to swing me up towards an outcrop of rock that I could get a hand on.
She took a firm hold of my backpack, as I heaved myself up onto the ledge. We lay there thoroughly exhausted, and cried.
*
Fresh tremors brought my thoughts back to the task in hand and my mind began to race away with itself. I realised then, there was no way we could use explosives to open the door. We were lying on a dusty ledge that in reality was no more than a small porch in front of the doorway.
‘There’s nowhere safe for us to take cover,’ I said.
Tukarra had noticed an antiquated palm reader panel to one side of the door and pointed at it.
‘Why not try putting your hand on that?’ she urged.
We picked ourselves up off the floor and I did as she had suggested.
An ethereal voice, sounding just like my father, filled the doorway and said, ‘Welcome Rhett, I knew you would come looking for me one day,’ and with the clunk of a few large bolts retracting, the door opened.
Chapter 25 – Loyal Servants
A rush of dusty air was sucked around us and into the bunker. I put my head through the now open doorway. It was a small airlock chamber, lined with stainless steel, and big enough to take around six people standing. I couldn’t see beyond the second door.
A red light came on, flooding the inner chamber with a deep crimson glow, and my father’s voice said, ‘Please step inside.’
My heart missed a beat. I told Tukarra that the voice sounded just like my father - although I had to tell myself that it was more likely to be a recording.
I held onto Tukarra’s hand as we crossed the threshold and stepped into the dusky red chamber, the first door closing behind us. When the outer door sealed shut, everything went very quiet for a moment and I suddenly experienced a strong feeling of claustrophobia, as though we were in the jaws of hell, about to be buried alive. We both knew we were at the mercy of technology that was probably a billion years past its sell by date and also teetering on the edge of an abyss. Would we ever see the light of day again?
‘Please close your eyes,’ said the voice calmly.
A band of warming radiation played up and down our bodies.
‘There is nothing to fear. This is just a precaution to prevent the unauthorised movement of biological weapon technologies.’
I can’t say I found any comfort in those words, particularly as we were about to enter a place where such weapons had probably been developed. I crossed my fingers, hoping that whatever bacteria or viruses they had created here were still safely contained.
The second door opened and again there was a rush of air onwards into the bunker. To me, this suggested it was much more likely that the army was mostly concerned about dangerous biology escaping, rather than getting in.
After stepping through the second door, we were greeted by a long corridor. White lights, evenly spaced along the ceiling, illuminated one at at time, encouraging us to move forward, each light revealing the entrance to a different laboratory.
Several cables were strewn along the corridor. They interconnected piles of explosives that were sat outside every laboratory door. The whole bunker must have been rigged to blow up, but clearly the order to scuttle the complex had either never been given, or else it had not been carried out.
‘I won’t be needing these!’ I said taking off my backpack. ‘There’s enough C4 here to blow the whole bunker to kingdom come.’
Calmly trying to reassure us, the disturbingly familiar voice said, ‘Walk along this corridor until you come to Transporter Room #2 then place your hand on the palm reader.’
Signs, hanging over each doorway, provided a brief insight into the work that must have been carried out in the bunker.
‘Lab #1 - Biological Warfare’.
‘Lab #2 - Nanite Construction and Destruction’.
‘Lab #3 - BioNanite Hybrid Technologies’.
A noticeboard, mounted on the wall by each door, gave the name of the chief scientist responsible for the laboratory, detailed the required access permissions and procedures, and also provided the specification of an appropriate Hazmat suit that was supposed to be worn by anyone expecting to gain entry.
My eyes widened as I read the next sign.
‘Lab #4 - Dark Matter Exploitation’.
‘This is Vitcha Kesinko’s Lab.,’ I pointed out to Tukarra. ‘You know, Ellie’s father.’
Tukarra ran ahead.
‘Lab #5 - Biological Quantum Computing’.
‘Aleq Goreman. This must have been your father’s laboratory,’ she observed.
All the laboratories, so far, had opaque, milky-white, windows but then we came across ‘Lab #6 - Transporter Room #1’ and that had one large, clear, wired glass pane. This was the second laboratory assigned to Vitcha Kesinko. By the dates on the notice board, this laboratory must have been dedicated to his very last project - the one he was working on around the time when he killed himself. Unlike the other labs there was hazard tape all around door frame and even more tape, stretched across the door itself, sporting the words ‘DANGER OF DEATH - DO NOT ENTER’, in bold red capital letters.
Curiosity got the better of me. I squinted through the window and into the dimly lit room behind the door. An assortment of bell jars, arranged in increasing size, were positioned all around the periphery of the laboratory. They appeared to contain the blackened remains of petrified plants. I could just about make out the name of the largest plant. The label on the two metre high bell jar read, ‘Dionaea Muscipula Giganticus’.
With my face now pressed up against the window, I mumbled what I was thinking, ‘I would never have guessed that Vitcha was into nano-technology enhanced botany.’
Squarely in the middle of the room, amidst a jumble of electronic equipment and tubing, sat a rectangular metal tank that was part filled with a thick, sickly yellow, sludge. Protruding out from the tank in all directions, like shrivelled petals of a huge withered flower, were lengths of what appeared to be the semi-transparent mummified tentacles of a giant dried squid.
‘None of this looks anything like my idea of a transportation device,’ I murmured.
Then Tukarra shouted, ‘Here it is, Lab #7 - Transporter Room #2 - Chief Scientist: Aleq Goreman.’
As instructed by the mysterious voice, she offered her right hand up to the wall mounted palm reader. The door didn’t open. Instead, the voice said, ‘Thank you for providing your hand print. Please state your full name.’
‘Tukarra.’
‘I heard, “Too-car-ah”. Is that your only name?’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Thank you.’
But still the door didn’t open.
Waving me over to catch up with her she said, ‘Come on. You try. It has got to be waiting for you.’
I pressed my hand onto the smooth glass plate, spreading my fingers and thumb to match the outline printed on its surface.
‘Welcome Rhett. You have been granted the highest level of security clearance. Please confirm that Too-car-ah is your guest.’
‘Yes. Tuk-ar-ra is my guest.’
The voice refined its pronunciation, ‘Welcome Tuk-ar-ra, you have been registered as a guest of Rhett Goreman. You may both now enter the laboratory, one at a time.’
The outer door slid open to reveal another door inside. It was a slim revolving glass door. Each segment of the door would only take one person, and eve
n that was going to be a tight squeeze. I went in first. It was quite hard to push the door round. There was a humming noise and I felt sure I was being scanned again.
After successfully making it through into the main room myself, I turned back to help push the door around for Tukarra.
A few lights flickered on across the room. Clearly, there would have been more light when the laboratory had been fully operational; but it was a miracle that any of this was still working. By now, most plastic wiring should have perished and any batteries would surely have decayed into jelly.
*
Storage racks and cluttered benches stretched into the furthest, darkest, reaches of the massive hangar-like room. There were overhead gantries, cranes, and walkways looming menacingly in the shadows over our heads.
A single spotlight came on, clearly highlighting the focal point of the laboratory. Caught in the middle of the beam of light was the powdery grey figure of a long dead corpse, sat on a chair and slumped over a simple wooden desk. A thick layer of dust had settled on every surface, undisturbed for millennia.
Positioned a couple of metres away, in a semicircle around the desk, were a number of tall glass cylinders big enough to stand in, some empty, some filled with a shiny purple substance.
I leant over the dead man. Could this be my father? Something metallic sparkled in the spotlight. It was a chain; almost certainly of the type normally associated with a military dog tag. I gingerly tried to ease the tag around to the back of his neck so that I could read it, but the flesh disintegrated, the bones in his neck fell apart, and the ashen skull rolled to one side of the desktop. I was left holding the chain with the tag still attached in my hand.
I rubbed the tag clean between my fingers and couldn’t believe my eyes. The engraving, ‘Perkems Benshawe’, glinted in the harsh light.
‘Is ... is he your father?’ asked Tukarra, pale faced and whispering gently.
‘No. But I do, or rather I did, know him,’ I said. ‘I can’t think what he would be doing here.’
Escaping the Sun Page 18