Lemuria

by Burt Clinchandhill

  “Lights off,” she spoke softly, and immediately the lights dimmed again, leaving a small night light above the door to the office, filling the room with just enough light to see large obstacles. She looked at her cellphone and pressed the screen. “Lean,” she whispered, and the brown-haired avatar now appeared on the screen of her phone. “I’m not alone. Who else is in the building?”

  For a second, the avatar seemed to think before coming back. “I have no registration of anyone in the building, but you, Miss Coleman.”

  “Please call security.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Coleman. I seem to be experiencing a problem with the external phone lines.”

  Amie thought for a second, looked left and right into the hallway, then quickly crossed Mulder’s office and took the exit to the room on the other side. The room next to Mulder’s was a conference room with a large circular table with some twenty chairs surrounding it. Again, the lights came on automatically. “Lights off.”

  She crossed the room to the only other door in the area, this one leading to the central hallway. Slowly and quietly, she opened it. When it was open about a foot, she stuck her head through the opening, looked left and right, and listened while holding her breath. Nothing, so she opened the door a little wider, and there it was again, from the right, the shuffling of footsteps.

  In one big swing, she threw the door open and rushed out of the room, running left into the hallway. Overhead, the lights came on, reflecting her shadow on the white, high gloss polished floor. “Damn,” she grunted softly. If ever there was a moment she didn’t like the automated systems, it was now. Everywhere she ran through the hallways, she left a trail of lights coming on behind her. She looked up and recognized the trail of breadcrumbs she left behind her. Shit. “Lea!” she called out at the phone in her hand.

  “How can I help you?” This time, the blonde avatar’s voice came from the phone.

  Amie quickly held the phone to her ear, switching the speaker off. She stopped next to the door leading to the stairwell. From the fifth floor, she figured, she would be down the staircase and outside in under a minute. She tilted her head slightly, listening for the shuffling sound—any sound, for that matter. She had to be sure whoever was present was still following her and not take a shortcut to the exit and wait for her. There it was again, still coming in her direction. For a second, she wondered why the person walked and didn’t run; then she turned to her phone, where Lea was still waiting. If only she could get to her car. Amie drove one of the first self-driving cars fabricated by Logynous, an Lgé One. A gift from her employer ‘for being the most loyal and dedicated employee,’ he’d said.

  “Lea,” Amie whispered into her phone. “Can you get the car out of the garage and in front of the main entrance? And I’m in a hurry, so if you please.”

  Amie glanced at the screen. The blonde AI blinked, the standard built-in trait, showing when the Artificial Intelligence behind it was ‘thinking,’ or better, searching its memory. “Your car will be parked in front in one minute and thirty-eight seconds,” she replied.

  “Great, thank you.” Amie opened the door to the stairwell as softly as she possibly could and went through. She closed it behind her without making a sound and started running. She was glad that this morning she decided to wear her Kimi flats. On any other day, she would be seen in her pumps, but by sheer coincidence, her big toe had hurt this morning, so she decided on the flats. She didn’t notice her big toe hurting now, even as she almost flew down the stairs. The sound of her soles against the metal steps echoed loud into the empty concrete staircase. She didn’t care. All she wanted now was to get down the stairs and out of the building in one minute, thirty-eight seconds. Three... two... one. She jumped down, skipping the last few steps and ran toward the doorway, leading to the central corridor on the ground floor. This time she didn’t bother staying quiet. She swung the door open, sped through it, and turned left running. Again, the lights overhead came on. Just keep running. Five, four, three... She counted down the offices next to her as she passed them. At one, she would be able to see the central hallway and exit. One. Within one hundred feet of the central corridor, she saw the lights in the hallway switch on, and Lea appeared on the circular screen in the center, looking like a full-body hologram.

  Within seconds she rushed into the hallway, passing Lea. “How can I help you, Amie?” Lea asked.

  “Open the doors. I’m in a hurry,” Amie cried out, panting as she rushed to the doors leading outside. Through the massive glass wall, she could see the lights outside go on and light up the driveway and part of the tree line in the distance. In her hurry, she almost smacked against the glass door. She looked up, took two steps back, and one forward again. Nothing happened.

  “Lea, open the doors,” she commanded loudly.

  “The doors are open. Have a nice evening,” the avatar spoke.

  Amie walked up and down to the door a few extra times, but nothing happened. “Lea!” Her voice broke as she walked up to Lea’s projection. “Open the front doors.” At that same time, her car drove itself in front of the doors on the other side. When the car came to a full stop, the driver’s side door opened automatically, and the light inside came on.

  “I’m sorry,” Lea almost sounded compassionate. “The doors are open, and you can exit the building now.”

  Amie rushed from the avatar in the center to the front doors, again nothing happened. She tried to put her fingers in between the two glass panels, but there was no wiggle room. Giving it all she had, she broke a fingernail. Damn. Ouch. “Lea!”

  “Good evening, Amie,” the projection spoke. “How can I help you?”

  Amie thought for a short moment. If the doors wouldn’t open, how could she get out? The windows don’t open, but there’s an emergency exit about one hundred feet from here. For a second, she startled as she heard the sound of a door closing from the direction from which she had come. Quickly coming to her senses, she ran out of the hallway and into the corridor in the opposite direction. Within seconds she stopped again at the door with a green “EXIT” sign above of it.

  The top and bottom of the door were separated by a gray metallic panic bar. Amie ran into the bar, forcing it with all her power. When nothing happened, she threw her hip against it with a big smack. The door didn’t budge. Desperate, she pounded both hands up against the door. In an instant, she stopped, took her phone out, looked at the screen, and widened her eyes.

  “Lean,” she commanded.

  On the screen, the blonde Lea immediately changed into the brown-haired Lean. “Good evening, Amie. How can I help you?”

  “This is an emergency. Can you lead me to The Space from here?” Lean winked a few times and then fell silent.

  Executive-level staff members and some other specially chosen employees had the privilege of access to what Mulder had called, ‘The Space.’ No one had ever seen it, but they were instructed to speak the words ‘emergency’ and ‘The Space,’ and Lean would lead them to it, so they were told.

  “Follow me.” Lean came back on the screen with a photo-realistic video of the hallway, with arrows pointing in the direction of a wall only ten feet from where she stood. Amie immediately stepped up to the wall, but there was nothing there, except a large Jackson Pollock painting that ran from floor to ceiling. Reluctant, she approached the wall, and a few feet away from it, the complete painting rose from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. Inside the large hole that appeared in the wall, the lights came on, illuminating a wide staircase going down. She looked at her phone, where the arrows pointed down the stairs. Okay, let’s do this. She quickly descended. About ten feet down, the staircase turned and led another ten feet down to an open, thick steel door with a round glass porthole in it. When she stepped onto the second staircase, she heard the painting slide down again. She gave a deep sigh. Was she safe? The arrows led her inside the room, and without hesitation, she stepped in. The room was no bigger than thirty by thirty feet. The walls
were made of stainless steel. The wall to her right held a large flatscreen, and opposite the entrance was another—in this case, closed—door. The flatscreen came to life with Lean on it.

  “Is your party complete?”

  “Yes,” Amie said, panting.

  The door behind her closed and a series of heavy bolts shooting into place locked the entry tight.

  “Hello, and welcome to The Space.” Amie looked around, expecting the door on the other side to open, but it didn’t. “You are now in The Space’s decontamination room. You are safe now. This room is bullet- and bomb-proof, and once decontamination has started, it cannot be opened. From here, your journey further into The Space will continue in about an hour. In the meantime, you will be freed of all possible contaminations. The light in the room will turn a dark blue color, and gaseous decontaminants will be sprayed into the room sterilizing both body and clothes, so there’s no need to undress. You might experience slight discomfort from odor and a tingling sensation in the throat. Decontamination will commence in one minute and will take about forty-five minutes. If you wish, you can rest on one of the seats provided.”

  Amie looked around, but the room was completely empty.

  “Relax.” Without a doubt, Lean’s voice was programmed to emanate calmness, but Amie found it nerve-racking. “On the touchscreen, you can experience The Space in advance.” A floorplan to The Space materialized. Amie looked at it briefly. It was huge. For a moment, she was impressed, but that feeling quickly turned to unease. What was going on? Was she safe? Who knew she was here tonight? Did someone know what she was working on? What she knew? She walked to the door where she had come in and looked through the porthole. The light had gone off again, and it was pitch black on the other side.

  Amie startled when Lean began speaking again. “Did you know The Space is a three-story underground survival complex, capable of housing over three hundred people in their own apartments should a catastrophe occur?” Amie turned to the screen, and on it were luxuriously decorated rooms, with modern furniture and bright kitchens. LED screens with images of green pastures served as windows. “The space has its own heavily filtrated oxygen supply, is, of course, bomb- and radiation-proof and has its own freshwater facility. There is a supermarket with fresh, stored groceries that will feed all occupants for up to three years, and for entertainment, there’s a swimming pool, video arcade, shooting range, two bars, and a cinema stacking thousands of movies.” On the screen, images of a luxury pool with artificial palm trees, and a horizon complete with a blue sky painted on the walls. “Please feel free to use the floorplan for more impressions.”

  She felt a slight breeze from a ventilator that came on, and the light in the room changed to dark blue, as she quickly turned back to the porthole. At that same moment, the light on the stairway behind the entrance came on again. Just as she looked through it, the light went off again. She gazed into the darkness but couldn’t define any shape or form. With both hands now against the glass, she pressed her head between them, staring into the nothingness on the other side. Suddenly, she took a big step back, inhaled two quick and shallow breaths, and then pressed all of the air out of her lungs, as on the other side of the door, someone’s breath condensed on the glass.

  What the fuck? She stepped aside, keeping her eyes on the porthole. For a long moment, the room stayed silent except for Amie’s shallow breathing. The condensation on the glass had dissipated.

  “Hello, Amie.” A distorted voice now sounded through the room, startling her again. “What are you doing in there?”

  Amie stepped away, as far as she could, from the door. “Who are you? What do you want?” she asked with her back against the opposite door. “Hello?” she asked again when everything remained silent.

  “Do you know that every day, you and your boss defy God and everything He stands for?” The distorted voice came back, and Amie thought she could vaguely distinguish a silhouette through the porthole. Was it a man? She couldn’t be sure, and the voice also didn’t give away anything distinctive.

  “Who are you?” Amie repeated with a trembling voice.

  Another long moment of silence. “Who I am is of no importance. We warned you before what would happen if you didn’t stop.”

  Amie fought a rising panic. Who was he? What did he know, and who would want to stop me? Stop what, and why this way? Then she saw a flat hand placed on the other side of the glass. What was he doing?

  The hand slowly moved over the glass, and then out of sight. Next to the door, on the outside, was a small touchscreen panel. The assailant’s fingers skillfully moved over the panel and punched the projected buttons. A low rumble sounded inside the decontamination room, followed by absolute silence. Amie looked up when she noticed the ventilator had stopped. Almost immediately, the dark blue light went off, and just before it went totally dark, the silhouette behind the door became clearly visible.

  “You?” she cried out.

  A hissing sound filled the room, and she quickly felt lightheaded, dizziness setting in. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she lost her balance, sinking to her knees. For a second, she sat on her knees. Then she tipped over, her eyes completely closed, and there was absolute blackness.

  Chapter 10 – Trinil

  Java, Indonesia, The Present

  The Short SC.7 Skyvan made its approach to Ngloram Airport at Bandar Udara Ngloram in Central Java, Indonesia. The plane—fabricated by the Short Brothers of Belfast, Northern Ireland—operated by Sulawesi Airlines, first came into service in the early seventies. With its nineteen-passenger capacity and maximum speed of two hundred miles per hour, the twin propeller aircraft, also known as the “Flying Shoebox,” simply because it looked like one with wings, wasn’t a product of modern marvel. But the small indestructible plane—with its fifteen hundred-foot takeoff and landing—the great, small plane made it exceptionally functional in the wooded Indonesian jungle.

  On both sides of the plane, a row of chairs was placed, so passengers sat facing each other. Bishop looked over his shoulder, out of the small window as the plane approached the runway. The green acres below were neatly cut in squares, with no jungle in sight. As the aircraft turned on its approach, he noticed urban buildings on both sides of the landing strip as far as he could see. “There’s not much jungle left,” he shouted over the propellers.

  “You’re the one who wanted to come here,” Lindsey shouted back, sitting across from Bishop with Ignatowski next to her. Ignatowski slept almost the entire twenty-four hours of flights, from New York to Juanda International Airport near Surabaya. They were the only three passengers on the thirty-minute domestic flight. “I still think that it’s quite a leap from Haeckel’s map to Trinil.” Lindsey tied her hair in a band.

  “Small correction,” Bishop replied. “The only reason I came was that you extorted me with more information on the disappearance of Jennifer, should I come.”

  “I’m sorry, Matthew. I really believe there’s something big going on here. And for what it’s worth, I’m thrilled that you came along. I wouldn’t have known what to do without you, though I’m still not sure what we’re doing here.”

  “Well, you made your promise, and now, I guess, you need to trust me,” Bishop replied.

  The Skyvan’s bulkheads cracked when the plane hit the runway with a big bang.

  Ignatowski’s head rose from his chest in one jerky movement. “Are we there?”

  Bishop and Lindsey laughed and nodded.

  The plane stopped, and the full-width rear cargo door opened. The bright sunlight made them squint, and they quickly put on their sunglasses, took their backpacks that were stowed away under the seats and walked out over the ramp.

  “Nigel Small-Fawcett.” A tiny, sweaty man with a dark comb-over, dressed in a white linen suit, white shirt, and a black and white striped tie, approached them and introduced himself in a crisp British accent. The middle-aged man looked nervous and stared at Bishop.

  “Have we met?” Bishop asked
.

  “Sorry, I don’t think so,” the man stuttered nervously. “I’m on loan, you could say, from the British consulate, and I recognized you from your picture.” He took Bishop’s hand and shook it feebly.

  “Wow, that’s quite a reception.” Lindsey shook Fawcett’s hand, followed by Ignatowski.

  “I’m sent by the U.S. consulate in Surabaya to help you get on your way on our beautiful island,” the man babbled.

  “Thank you. I guess you know where we’re going?” Bishop replied.

  “Yes, I do. We have a taxi waiting to take you to Trinil and rooms reserved at a small local hotel. Please follow me.”

  Dutifully, they followed Fawcett as he scurried across the airfield, which was nothing more than a short strip of asphalt in the middle of green fields, and walked into a large shed-like building.

  “Selamat siang,” he said, addressing the two military men behind a desk, before walking through the door opposite and outside again. The three followed him to the corner of the street some thirty feet farther, where they stopped next to a street sign that read, ‘Pangkalan.’

  “Here we are.” He waved to the other side of the crossing where a white 1962 Volkswagen Beetle, converted to a stretched limousine, started up. The Beetle turned around on the street and stopped in front of them, precisely beneath the sign. The driver, a dark brown young man, promptly jumped out and opened the rear door for them.

  “Good morning,” the man said in a thick accent.

  “There you are.” Fawcett pointed inside the car. “It’s an hour and a half drive to Trinil, so I suggest you sit down and enjoy the ride.”

  “You’re not coming?” Ignatowski asked.

  “I’m sorry. But I’m needed back at the consulate.” Fawcett gave him a card. “But if there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call me.”