by C. E. Glines
Maybe the blackout had nothing to do with me at all, and I’d be perfectly safe where I was. The first rule about getting lost was to stay put and wait for rescue, right?
A loud crash sounded at the other end of the lab, echoing throughout the room. That was all the convincing I needed. I wasn’t a coward, but I wasn’t stupid either. Decision made, I moved.
I sort of bear crawled towards the nearest door. Again, I didn’t know why, it just felt right.
I made it to the door and slid my hand up its face to find the door handle already turning. Pulling my hand back quickly, I scooted back as quietly as I could and took shelter underneath the lab table again.
I could still hear someone slowly coming closer from the far end of the lab. Or maybe something. I thought I could hear what sounded like claws clacking against the floor.
Knowing my eyes would not be adjusting to this darkness, I closed them and listened instead. Whatever it was coming towards me, it was methodically searching the room.
Focusing on the door, I strained to hear whoever was coming in there. My plan was to sneak by them with me exiting as they entered. I heard the small click of the door handle and as stealthily as possible, I started edging in a wide circle back towards the door.
My eyes flew open as my mouth and nose were engulfed by a large hand and an arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backwards. Before I could offer any resistance, the smell of campfire and fruit washed over me. The fear that had seized me gave way to relief, and I relaxed against Catman.
He slowly lowered his hand and brought his mouth to my ear. “We have to get you out of here,” he breathed.
I silently nodded, and he began to lead me backwards. Since we weren’t bumping into things, I was guessing one of his abilities included being able to see in the dark.
I jumped at the sudden scraping sound off to our left. It still sounded far off, but the fact that it was there at all was way too close for me.
“It doesn’t have enhanced senses,” Catman whispered to me, essentially confirming that it was a something and not a someone.
The more I tried not to think about what was making the noise, the more it kept popping into my head. My mind kept conjuring claws, attached to very nasty things, scraping against the tile floor. Thank goodness Catman was solid against my back. I didn’t think I would have been so calm if he wasn’t there.
We reached the back of the lab and Catman stopped and began working on something attached to the wall.
Even though I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t look away from the direction of my stalker. Was that slobbering? I reached back, placing a hand on Catman’s back. Just being in contact with him made me feel safer.
In an effort to change the direction of my thoughts, I focused on him. He must have changed his clothes. It felt like he had on a t-shirt. I could feel his muscles working under the fabric. Yes, these were much nicer thoughts.
He leaned in, putting his mouth next to my ear again. “Go straight until you come to the first branch to the right. Take it and keep going. No matter what, keep going. I’ll be right behind you.”
Before I could ask where I was going, he pulled me in front of him and placed my hands on the edge of an entrance. Sliding my hands around, I measured the dimensions at about two by three feet. The cool air rushing past me indicated it was an air shaft. It seemed I’d only delayed my daring escape via the ventilation system.
“Get moving, Greer,” he commanded and lifted me into the shaft.
I noted the strain in his voice. I didn’t think it was from lifting me. Not wanting to add to his distress, I swallowed my protest of his handling of me. Keeping my shoulder tightly pressed against the side, so that I wouldn’t miss the branch he’d specified, I started forward. But I hesitated when I heard the vent cover being reattached to the wall. So much for right behind me.
Surely, he wouldn’t have stayed behind unless he knew what he was doing. I guessed it would be pointless to argue with him. For one, it would only draw attention to us, and two, he was the man with the plan to get me out of here. I was just the scientist trying not to get killed.
“Get moving, Greer,” I mimicked in my head as I started forward again. He could use a little more finesse. I swung my head side to side in disbelief of my own criticism. I couldn’t believe I’d just thought something Olivia would have said. Who was I to fault anyone for being direct? As long as he got me out alive, I would not hold it against him.
My heart sank at the sudden sounds of fighting that reverberated through the shaft. The stark realization that I’d left Catman behind to engage whatever had been in the lab with us felt like a lead balloon in my stomach. I wasn’t one to run from a fight, and I sure as heck didn’t expect anyone to sacrifice themselves for me. I was torn between going back and going forward.
“Get moving, Greer!” Catman’s snarl thundered through the shaft.
“Guess that answers that,” I mumbled.
He must be equipped with super hearing, too. How else would he have known that I had stopped? I was pretty far into the shaft already. But obviously, not far enough for him.
This time I moved quickly, racing to outpace the sounds of fighting. I refused to stop, even though I wanted to. I leaned hard into the shaft, nearly bowling over when my shoulder came up against nothing. I’d arrived at the branch with still no sign of Catman and no more echoes for company.
I briefly toyed with the idea of waiting for him, but he seemed pretty adamant that I keep moving. I didn’t know what I was worried about, anyway. He could probably take care of himself.
Moreover, nothing else had joined me in the shaft. So either Catman had defeated the nameless beast, or they were both grievously wounded or dead. Geesh, I needed to stop scaring myself with reality.
Racing against some unknown clock set by Catman, I took the right and went about five feet when the tunnel begin to descend. At first, the decline was gentle, allowing me to continue head first. But soon enough, I had to switch to a feet first position in order to accommodate the steepening shaft. This resulted in me partially sliding, partially crab walking.
I was getting my fill of animal impersonations today.
The high heeled boots were not an asset for controlling the rate of descent, either. I was sure I probably sounded like an elephant tromping across the ceiling, especially when my left heel caught, flipping me onto my stomach.
Without any resistance, my speed picked up tremendously. Gone was my controlled slide. In fact, it seemed the material my suit was made of acted like a lubricant aiding my downhill plunge. If I stuck my arms out now, I thought there was a good chance of breaking them, so I tucked my face into my forearms and let her rip.
I tried to keep myself relatively centered, but three feet didn’t leave much room for error. Being that it was also still dark as night, I basically bounced from one side to the other.
I really hoped this didn’t dump me into some cavern. I momentarily considered trying to slow myself down again and even got as far as to place only my fingertips against the sides. The burning feeling that erupted at the points of contact abruptly ended that attempt.
I needn’t have worried. The shaft didn’t end. It leveled out and changed directions. I was summarily deposited headfirst into the wall when the shaft suddenly bent left.
“Didn’t see that coming,” I groaned as I struggled to sit up. Then I giggled. Pressing my hands tightly to my mouth, I tried to smother the errant sounds. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it occurred to me that I might have a concussion, but it didn’t seem all that important. It seemed funny, and I collapsed in a bout of giggling.
As I lay there stunned by my impact and still consumed by the giggles, I mimed the roar of a crowd. “Greer wins the gold in shaft surfing. The crowd goes wild.”
I was relatively certain that I passed out after that.
When I came to my senses, I realized that I had my arms up like I had scored a touchdown. I frowned and lowered my arms. Touch
downs had nothing to do with gold medals.
Sitting up, I became acutely aware of my pounding head. With my fingers, I gingerly probed the source of pain. Just as I suspected, I had a new knot to go with the existing one.
“Looks like I’ll have a matching pair. Dumb and dumber.” Then I giggled again. I wasn’t typically a giggler. Recognizing this only made me giggle more. Maybe the oxygen was thinner in here.
I started taking slow deep breaths as I studied the new section of the shaft. It was a relatively well lit corridor. There was still only one way to go, so no confusion there. I noticed the light was coming from fairly evenly spaced intervals in the shaft floor. Crawling forward, I approached the first light source.
It was connected to an office. From this distance, I could barely discern voices below the vent. Lying down on my stomach, I inched forward and angled my face to get a better view of the room. I could make out the figures of Director Garrison, Hollins and Catman? What was he doing there?
Director Garrison and Hollins were arguing while Catman stood off to the side and watched. Hollins was yelling he didn’t need me on the project. Garrison informed him he would do what he was told or he could be removed altogether. Hollins’ reply was too quiet for me to make out.
By now, we were way past the time that we were supposed to “talk.” He probably knew I was missing. Obviously the Director did not, and Catman wasn’t updating him either. I didn’t know the reason for that, but I was getting the impression that there was a lot going on that the Director didn’t know about.
Catman’s head rose sharply and my attention shifted to him. I saw his nostrils flare as he sampled the air. His eyes found mine and he gave a quick jerk of his head, no. I took that to mean not to reveal myself.
Following his direction, I remained silent and watched as Hollins left the office. He sure liked to slam doors when making an exit.
Director Garrison moved towards Catman and began speaking to him. He was speaking too softly for me to hear what he was saying. As Catman stepped closer to the Director, a pang of guilt raced through me. Behind his left ear was a trail of blood that disappeared into the collar of his shirt. I was certain that had come from his recent fight.
I watched Director Garrison walk back to his desk, and then Catman turned to leave. As he reached the door, he looked up and mouthed “keep moving” to me. Then he left the office.
Keep moving? Why couldn’t I just reveal myself to the Director and get out of this vent? For some reason, Catman wanted me to remain hidden. So the question was, did I trust him?
He hadn’t harmed me, NOLA aside, and he’d seen to it that I was fed. He’d also just fought to keep me safe. I knew I didn’t trust Hollins. The Director…? I thought he was just as clueless as me as to what was truly going on. It all came down to whether I did or did not trust Catman.
I found the answer to be yes.
I sighed as I accepted my choice. Trusting Catman meant I was going to be in this vent for a little longer.
“But you had better watch out,” I quietly warned myself, “or you’ll find the words, keep moving, stamped on your backside.”
Yeah, that was all kinds of funny right there.
Moving as quietly as possible, I started forward, yet again. The shaft remained level this time, and I didn’t encounter anymore branch points. I passed more offices, but there was nothing of interest going on.
I realized the shaft was slowly growing darker. The little light that the offices had provided was fading. Looking into the distance, the shaft disappeared into the darkness. It might have ended two feet past it or gone on forever. I just couldn’t tell.
Straining to see into the darkness was causing my head to pound even more, and my stomach was starting to rumble. After a while, the rumblings seemed to pick a rhythm, like a drumbeat. It would have been comical if I wasn’t the one enduring it.
“Maybe I should start carrying an emergency pack everywhere I go. Just the necessities. A flashlight, no a headlamp, so I can be hands free. Some water, food, first aid.”
I would sure have appreciated an aspirin right about now for both my head and my other aching parts. I sat down for a minute to give my knees and back a rest. Sitting felt good, so I stretched out on the floor of the shaft.
“That’s better,” I yawned. “At least it’s not hot.”
While I was rolling my ankles, I realized they were not sliding across a smooth surface. Pulling myself back into a crouch, I inspected the surface with my hands. It felt like a roughhewn tunnel made of moist dirt and rocks. Definitely not something that had been cut with power tools.
I rubbed the dirt between my fingers and brought it to my nose. It smelled like clay.
“That narrows down my location to the majority of the planet,” I muttered sarcastically. “I guess you’re not the never ending shaft.”
I was aware of the fact that I kept talking to myself, but I figured, as long as I didn’t hear someone other than me answering back, I was okay.
I didn’t think the shaft terminating into a tunnel carved out of the earth was part of the original design. So, why would someone attach an unplanned tunnel to a ventilation shaft? The most obvious reason was an escape route. That implied that someone knew there was going to be a need for escape. Someone like Catman? Why would he prepare a way of escape from his own Agency?
“I wish somebody would tell me what the heck is going on,” I demanded of the ceiling. Disgusted, I wiped my hands off on my pants. “No response, really, I’m shocked. You people have been so forthcoming up till now.”
I let my knees rest on the floor and folded my hands in my lap. It was time for a situation assessment. In lieu of pen and paper, I used my voice.
“Let me get this straight,” I stated to the darkness. “I’m about to enter a tunnel, somewhere in the earth, with a probable concussion, not knowing who to trust, or why someone is trying to kill me, or where the heck I’m going, while a hybrid epidemic is poised to sweep the earth.”
I pressed my lips together, considering if I’d left something out. I would never in a million years have guessed this was how I’d spend my day.
“Focus, Greer,” I ordered myself.
I shook my head to try and clear it, but stopped when that only resulted in the tunnel spinning. Placing my hands on either side of me on the floor, I waited for the spinning to stop before continuing my assessment.
I could turn around and reenter the office complex. An image of Catman’s stern face immediately appeared in my mind. No, he wouldn’t like that very much.
I knew there were things going on that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know why Catman didn’t want me to reveal myself to the Director, but he must have a good reason. It seemed to all come back down again to whether I trusted him or not.
“Uugh, this is not fair,” I groaned. Why did I have to keep trusting a man I hardly knew? But something in my gut told me that I had to, that it was the right choice. And I had learned the hard way a long time ago to obey those promptings.
Then my lightning fast mind informed me that, given the environment, there was a good chance that creepy crawlies also inhabited the tunnel.
“Oh, Dear God, please do not let there be bugs in this tunnel,” I begged.
I hated bugs fervently. I knew it wasn’t rational, but they were icky with their sticky little legs and flailing antennae. My stomach rolled in revulsion at just the thought of sharing space with them. Maybe God would have mercy on me and send an angel with a flashlight and bug spray.
Unfortunately, regardless of my waiting, none showed up.
“They probably don’t know where I am either,” I muttered dejectedly. “I’m so glad I accepted this position. Oh wait, I didn’t,” I said with a dry laugh.
A few more minutes of sighing and staring into the tunnel didn’t reveal anything new. Not that I thought it would given the fact that I couldn’t see anything.
“I guess you’ve stalled long enough, Macy,” I said resolu
tely. “Time to get your big girl panties on and conquer that tunnel. And this time, don’t think about the possible outcomes,” I instructed myself.
But I did it anyway. My mind just worked that way, seeing all the possibilities, like tunnel collapses or falling through weak spots. Dang it.
I took one more deep breath and let it out slowly. Then, I deliberately moved forward into the tunnel.
CHAPTER 9
TWENTY FEET INTO THE TUNNEL firmly established the fact that it was worse than just moist and roughhewn. Far worse. Each placement of my hands and knees was met with rocky, uneven, and sharp. What was this stuff? My hands and knees were being cut to pieces. There had to be a better way to navigate this.
I carefully set my feet underneath me and felt along the bottom of the tunnel. The edges of the tunnel where it started curving upward had fewer sharp edges. Assuming a plank position, with my hands and feet wide apart, I started forward again. I hoped doing all those chest presses would pay off now.
After thirty minutes, give or take a few, my arms started shaking. When the pounding in my head matched the shaking of my extremities, I crouched again. Rubbing my biceps revealed to me how tender my hands were. I knew they were cut up pretty bad, but the darkness prevented me from seeing how badly.
I didn’t know how far I had come or how much further I had to go. Somewhere along the way, I had stopped keeping track of distance and just concentrated on not falling.
I felt along the floor again. Still sharp. Why would you make an escape tunnel that would bleed you to death before you actually escaped? Maybe they intended to use the ceiling. I felt along the ceiling, but there were no handholds of any kind. The only idea I had was to resume my previous position.
Suddenly, the tunnel was filled with thunder and the floor jolted underneath me, sending me sprawling. I managed to protect my face, but my forearms and knees took the full brunt of the fall. Scrambling, I tried to maintain my balance but the swaying floor was too much for my blood soaked hands. I felt the bite of the floor again, as I slipped.