Janine leaned against him and placed her head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Jack. It’s hard, I know from my own experience.”
He abruptly stood up. “Come, we need to keep walking,” he said, pulling her to her feet. They trudged on further. Then, about ten minutes later they stopped, realizing they had reached the summit.
“Looks like this is it,” said Jack. “According to this map, which by the way doesn’t really exist, as I illegally acquired it from my contact, the entrance to the passageway should be somewhere around …”
He scanned the area, but there was little to see. The blizzard-like conditions made visibility difficult. He could barely make out a few remaining shells of what might once have been buildings.
“There!” he finished, as he pointed to what appeared to be a partially burnt-out shack.
They plodded their way over to the small building. Jack was searching for something out of the ordinary.
“Damn. Must be here somewhere,” he said, his body aching with cold, despite his thick clothing.
“Well, Sir Edmund Hillary, I’m going to sit down right here and take a breather,” said Janine, searching for somewhere to perch. She saw what looked like a concrete wall blanketed in the snow, and sat herself down, but as soon as she did, the wall gave way and tipped her backward into a snowdrift.
“Shit!” she yelled.
“Are you okay?” said Jack, quickly coming to her aid.
“Yes, yes,” she said, brushing off the snow from what was left of the wall. Her anger turned to excitement when she realized that the wall was not actually a wall but a bizarre sort of gate.
“Jack, look here. I think I’ve found something.”
“Let’s clear this snow off,” he said.
They worked quickly, brushing the white powder from what was now unmistakably a broken gate. There was some sort of trapdoor underneath with a lock on it.
“Damn, it’s locked,” said Janine.
“Not a problem,” said Jack, reaching into his duffel bag and pulling out a large pair of cutters. “You asked what was inside the bag, well now you know,” he said, grinning.
He grabbed the rusty lock and pressed the large cutters around it. It snapped under the pressure and he quickly detached it, then pulled the trapdoor up toward him. Janine nosily peered inside, then quickly lurched herself upwards with a shrill cry that could have shattered a piece of glass.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
“What the hell is it? What’s wrong?” asked Jack, checking her over to see if she had injured herself.
“Oh my god, Jack. There’s a massive spider in there. It’s almost the size of my cat!”
Jack bent over and took a peek. He grabbed the spider with his left hand, which was roughly the size of his fist, and gently brought it out. Janine shrieked again as he lowered it onto a plank of wood, the hairy arachnid quickly scurrying off into the snow covered bushes.
“He’s just an old huntsman.”
“Just a what?”
“A huntsman, they’re harmless. They kill all the mozzies. Most Aussies have a couple in their homes at any given time.”
“You Aussies are crazy,” she said, shaking her head. “If that thing turned up in my house, I’d have the whole place fumigated.”
Jack laughed. “Aren’t you a strange one,” he said, grinning at her, before proceeding to climb down the stairs to what appeared to be a tunnel. Janine followed closely behind.
It was dark and grimy, and Jack retrieved a flashlight from his bag, the beam of light revealing a nine-by-nine-foot tunnel. There were no obvious ventilation shafts. In the darkness, the walls felt cold and slimy, and were covered in brown-green algae. Thankfully, though, the tunnel provided them respite from the biting wind.
“Jack, this is really creepy. I’m not sure I like being here.”
“Stay close, and don’t touch anything.”
Jack scanned the roof. There were planks of wood, which appeared to have suffered substantial rot. “It looks like no one has used this tunnel for about a million years,” he said.
“No kidding?” replied Janine as she stepped around a few algae-coated rocks.
The flashlight caught some movement in its beam.
“Shit, Jack, what’s that?”
“Probably just a rat. I’m sure there are heaps of them down here.”
As they moved further down the tunnel, an arc of light appeared to illuminate the far walls and Jack looked up at the roof. “Looks like a ventilation shaft.”
Light snow drifted down and coated the floor in a thin dusting.
“Be careful, it will be slippery here,” he said.
“Yes, Einstein,” she bit back.
After another hundred feet or so, they came to what looked like another gate, sealing off their path. It too was locked with a twentieth-century padlock.
“Another one,” said Janine.
“No problem,” said Jack, once again pulling out his trusty cutters and slicing through the rusted lock.
“Security has come a fair way since 1920,” said Janine. “To get into NASA HQ is a fraction more scientific.”
As they opened the gate and entered the next portion of the tunnel, they felt a slight vibration, followed by some mud and dirt cascading down from the roof.
“What was that?” asked Janine.
“Possibly part of the tunnel giving way. It probably can’t cope under the increased weight of the snow, which is a bit odd, given there’s been many snowfalls here before.”
The sound ceased, and the shaking dissipated.
“Okay, seems alright to keep going,” he said. “Just take it really slow.”
“How much longer do you think?”
Jack examined the map. “According to this, I’m guessing no more than a few hundred feet. I just hope the security when we reach the main building is also twentieth century.”
“I hope so, too. I don’t fancy going back the way we came.”
“Nor do I.”
* * * *
Major Graham Kennedy clambered up the summit, following the two sets of footprints in the snow. It was bitterly cold and still snowing, although less so than it had been earlier. By the time he reached the top, it was practically dark. He looked upwards. The sky was glowing with the spectacle of the aurora and supplied Graham with enough light to find the entrance to the old passageway.
He hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight with him, so he had to rely on the dim light from his phone in order to navigate his way through the tunnel.
“Damn you, Janine,” he cursed as he fought his way through cobwebs and mud. After what seemed like ages, he came across another gate. He found the broken lock.
“Hmm. Looks like I’m getting closer.”
* * * *
Ninety feet ahead, Jack and Janine came to what seemed to be a dead-end. Jack scanned the area with his flashlight. There were more tremors and soft rumblings before another load of dirt and some rocks came crashing down from above them, one just narrowly missing Janine.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just dandy,” she replied, as she dusted herself off.
Jack found a metal ladder plastered against one of the walls. He looked up. It ran vertically upwards and then disappeared into the darkness.
“Looks like a vertical shaft. I’m going to start climbing,” he said. “Follow me.”
Janine wasn’t thrilled with the prospect, but knew that her options were extremely limited.
Jack climbed up the first few rungs of the ladder. It creaked under his weight. Janine followed, her heart thumping, her body rapidly warming up until she started to feel uncomfortable under Jack’s greatcoat.
Crack!
One of the rungs broke under her weight, and she almost fell, Jack managing to grab her arm just in time. For the first time, she felt sweat building up under her hood.
“Shit. That was close,” she said. “I really hope you know what you’re doing.”
“You m
ean to say you don’t trust me?”
“Of course not.”
Jack reached the top of the ladder, and stepped onto a small wooden landing, barely large enough to support him. It creaked under his weight. He looked up. “What a surprise,” he cried. “Guess what, another trapdoor, how unusual.”
“These people obviously had a thing for trapdoors,” she said. “I doubt there were any female astronomers in 1920. I can’t imagine women climbing up here in their long frocks, which is what most of them almost certainly wore in those days.”
Jack shook his head at the ludicrous remark, and then handed Janine the flashlight, who was situated a couple of rungs below him on the ladder. “Hold this, while I work on the trapdoor.”
He put his hands on the door and pushed upwards as hard as he could, but this time the door wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck, or maybe there’s something sitting on top of it.”
He pulled the duffel bag off his back. “I have a plan, but you might not like it,” he said.
She sighed and wiped the drying sweat from her forehead. “What now?” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I’m going to have to blow it. I have some low-powered explosive devices. It’ll definitely work, but …”
“But what?”
“It may bring the whole roof of this tunnel down, especially if it’s vulnerable like we think it is. As soon as the charge goes off, we might have less than a minute to make our dash up through it. After that there’s every possibility that we might end up being buried alive.”
“Great, Jack, I’m ecstatic.” Her hands were wrapped so tightly around the rung of the ladder that she wondered if she would be able to let go and climb when it was time. “Anything else you want to tell me while you’re at it?”
“Yes, in case we don’t make it, I want to tell you that you’re one hell of a girl, and it’s been a damn pleasure meeting you.”
The surprise comment shocked her, and she felt her face burning, and was thankful that it was dark. She chose her words carefully. “That’s okay, Jack, you’re a pretty cool guy yourself. I think my cat, Sabrina, would like you, and she’s damn fussy.”
Jack climbed down a couple of rungs until he was level with her, then once again, to her surprise, he placed an arm around her and gently pulled her toward him. He kissed her softly on the lips.
“I’m sorry, Janine. I just had to do that, just in case …” He looked up at the trapdoor and shrugged his shoulders. “You know …”
Janine was speechless, and before she could think of a reply, Jack had clambered back up and begun the task of placing the small explosives around the trapdoor. He secured them with tape, and then retreated back down the ladder again.
“Aren’t you supposed to light a fuse or something?” she asked.
“You’ve been watching too many old movies. We have something called a remote these days. Works surprisingly well,” he commented, gently squeezing her shoulder with his powerful hand.
She felt foolish, but sabotage was never her forte. Breaking into NASA was an elementary school task. This was sabotage 101. “How far down the ladder do we need to go?” she asked.
“I would say about halfway should be okay, but then again, it’s anyone’s guess. You’ll need to try to keep as close to the wall as possible, because when she blows, there’ll be some dirt coming down from above. Actually there’ll be a shitload of dirt!”
“Bring it on! I don’t think I could get any dirtier than I am anyhow.”
They descended further down the ladder and stopped about thirty feet down, which was roughly halfway. Just as they reached that point, Janine thought she noticed a flickering of light coming from below, but when she looked down again, it was gone.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
“Well, what now, lass?” asked the professor.
“We wait, and hope that no one picks up on this at NASA in the next hour or so.” Sheri looked into the big man’s deep-set eyes. They exuded warmth, a kindness that reminded her so much of her late father that she was almost overwhelmed and had to look away.
“What is it?” asked the professor, placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Prof, I didn’t really have a chance earlier, with all the others around, to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your son.”
“It was a long time ago, but you know, Sheri, it still feels like it happened yesterday. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about Tom. He may have been twenty-eight years old, with a son himself, but to me he was still my little boy.”
Tears welled up in the professor’s eyes, and Sheri fought to hold back her own as his words tore at the emotional Band-Aids she used to keep her daily pain just below the surface. Hesitantly, she decided to share the thing that she almost never spoke about. “I know how you feel, Professor, my dad committed suicide when I was twelve years old.” She let out a quavering sigh. “I still think about him every day.”
He stared at her for a moment as understanding dawned in his eyes. “Have you forgiven him yet, Sheri?”
Avoiding his gaze, she said, “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean, dear.” The professor lifted her chin gently until she was looking back into his almond-shaped brown eyes. The Band-Aid completely gave way and the emotions surged forth, like a torrent of water bursting through a broken dam wall. Her face contorted in a mix of anger and sorrow. “He had no right to leave me, Professor, I was only twelve!”
“You talk about him like he intentionally deserted you.”
Through gritted teeth she growled, “Isn’t that exactly what he did?”
“No, that’s exactly what you think he did. Sheri, no one takes their own life on a whim or to spite someone, no matter what people may say. They usually do it despite all the people that they care about, because they want to protect them or because they just can’t see another way around whatever problem it is that they’re drowning in. I’m sure as the sky is blue that he didn’t do it to hurt you.” Her eyes grew misty and a thin liquid film began to form over them. He took her hand gently and tapped it. “How could he want to hurt an innocent, lovely person like you?”
Her lower lip was quivering, and a lone tear escaped from her eye.
The portly professor pulled Sheri toward him and flung his arms around her petite frame, almost crushing her in an embrace. Tears were freely streaming down her face as she attempted to digest what this caring and extremely observant man had just said to her.
She pulled back enough to see his face. “Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled, but she could see the pain buried in his eyes and she decided it was his turn to dispel his demons. “Professor, tell me about your son. What was he like?”
The professor turned his gaze toward the floor.
She took his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. If you’d rather not talk about it, that’s okay.”
“No, I’d like to talk to you about it, Sheri. It’s just that I’ve been keeping this bottled up for so long, I don’t really know where to start. I feel like I can’t move past this. I have so much guilt about the way I behaved toward him when he was still alive.”
“Did he do something to you to hurt you?” she asked hesitantly.
The man blushed. “No, he was just trying to be himself, and I took exception to that.” He stood up and began to pace, hands in pockets. “You see, Sheri, my son was very hard-headed. Once he made up his mind about something, there was no way to change it.”
“I’m not with you.”
The professor began fidgeting with a pen he had found on his desk. His cheeks reddened, and he began flicking the pen around in his hand. “We had a big fight the day he left for Afghanistan.”
“About what?”
“I begged him not to go. I told him that he had a responsibility to his son, who’d never forgive him if he didn’t come back.”
Sheri shut her eyes. “Oh, Professor. It must be tough to live with that, but you were only looki
ng after his best interests.”
“No, lass. I was looking after my best interests. I used that as an excuse because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. I had intelligence that suggested that the mission was extremely risky, and I used his son, my grandson as a pawn to try to stop him.”
Sheri nodded and smiled at the old man. “I see. Well perhaps you can take some comfort in knowing that you did your best to prevent his death. It was simply beyond your control.”
The professor nodded his head and barely managed a grunt. The pen was spinning faster and faster around in his hand. “We never spoke after that fight, and now that he’s … gone, well um … I never got to—” He put his hand over his eyes. Sheri felt that it was her turn to embrace him.
“Apologize, and tell him how much you loved him,” she said, completing his sentence.
The man nodded, and his eyes misted over.
“Professor, for what it’s worth, I think your son would’ve understood that what you did was out of love. I know that I’d be real proud to have you as a father,” she offered reassuringly.
“And I, you as a daughter, Sheri.” He paused, gave a snort and then smiled. “Okay, enough of this. How long do we have before shutdown?”
“About an hour.”
“Well, no point in hanging around here. I say let’s go grab a stiff dink. I think we both deserve it,” he said.
“Sounds good.” She paused then cautiously said, “Say, Prof, I’ve noticed that you quite like your whiskey. Not that I’m judging you or anything.”
“Feel free to judge me, sweetheart. I drink far too much. My wife keeps on at me all the time about it. I’ve promised her I would try to cut back, but it’s hard to numb the pain without it.” He looked up at the ceiling and frowned. “Funny thing is, I never drank a drop before Tom died. I know it’s slowly killing me, and part of me secretly hopes that it will, but then I sometimes think about Vanessa and my grandson, Ed, who has lived with us ever since his mother died seven years ago.”
The Waterhole Page 29