by Susan Laine
Marcus chuckled. “God, you’re cute when you’re sulking.”
He thinks I’m cute? Sam’s heart jumped, thrilled at the outrageously impossible chance that his secret daydream might come to life. But his mouth ran the show, and he scowled. “I’m not sulking!”
Marcus’s amusement grew, and he belly laughed. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.” Sam tried not to steam. “Now come on!” He almost grabbed Marcus by the arm to drag him out with him, but at the last second pulled his hand back. Touching his crush was far too dangerous.
“I’ll be with you in just a sec, okay? Just wanna see what’s down there.” Marcus never backed down from a challenge, Sam knew, and he must see this as his own personal quest.
“And if you fall farther down somewhere—”
“Like where? The pit of hell?” Marcus snorted and rolled his eyes.
Sam was ready to scratch those same eyes out. “Stop it. That’s not funny. You have no idea what’s down there. You could….” He almost said it out loud. Marcus could die. But that felt like painting devils on the wall and inviting disaster to strike. Was that superstitious or just common sense? Sam couldn’t decide.
“I’ll be fine,” Marcus said with an annoyingly smug and confident tone of voice that seemed to suggest he was fate’s favorite plushy toy and no harm could ever befall him.
Before Sam could utter more refusals, Marcus had slipped over the edge and vanished from sight. Sam could still hear him moving about, rasping sounds echoing as his booted feet shifted the loose pebbles, rocks, and dirt. The beam of light through the opening they had fallen into provided the only illumination where Sam waited, and it was a gray dimness at best.
“Marcus?” Sam called out softly. A part of him worried that if he raised his voice too much, the whole mountain would come crashing down on his neck. And his slender shoulders could not handle the entire weight of the Rocky Mountains. “Marcus?” There was no answer. “Marcus!”
“Quit hollering, chipmunk.” Marcus appeared at the drop-off and hoisted himself up to stand at the edge again. “You’ll bring the whole mountain down on top of us.”
Sam damn near swallowed his tongue. Great minds think alike? Or was Marcus also a mind reader now? Considering Sam’s thoughts about him, he sure hoped not. “You’ve had a look, so now can we go?”
“Stop being such a baby,” Marcus replied, quirking an eyebrow.
“Then stop being such a douchebag.” To Sam’s quip, Marcus responded with a louder laugh. “Take a freaking selfie already, to prove you were down here so we can—”
The ground quaked and tilted in the middle of Sam’s speech. The floor slanted sharply like in an amusement park fun house. Marcus let out a yelp and fell backward, disappearing into the cavern he’d just climbed out of.
Shocked at the horrid sight, Sam flailed uselessly and comically before slipping, losing his footing, and falling face-first on the earthen floor. Unable to control his swift descent, he spun down the incline after Marcus like a bouncing ball and plummeted over the edge, falling…
Chapter 2
…UNTIL HE landed on something soft that grunted in pain.
“Get off me.” At last Marcus sounded grumpy and pissed off.
Sam was too shocked to be vexed, even though he probably had the right at the moment. He rolled off Marcus, hoping he wouldn’t continue falling. When he discovered he lay on solid ground again, his ire returned with a vengeance.
“I hate you so much right now,” Sam muttered through gritted teeth.
Marcus let out an awkward chuckle. But Sam heard the underlying embarrassment and ache. “Why? I’m so lovable. A fucking lovable rogue.”
“You’re a royal pain in my ass, is what.”
Sam stumbled onto his feet carefully to see if the roof was low enough to touch but felt nothing but air above him. The light that had enticed Marcus was too faint to pierce the dark reaches of the large cavern, like a star too distant to illuminate the vastness of the night sky. Thankfully Sam’s flashlight had made the journey intact, along with his backpack.
Marcus had also gotten up. He rustled in the dark, probably swiping dirt and leaves off his clothing. Then he sighed. “Where are we?”
“In search of your fabled pirate treasure, of course.” Sam snorted, but he was neither angry nor amused anymore. He was scared, and he wanted to go home. But he knew better than to confess his feelings to Marcus, who knew no fear.
“Sam? I’m sorry I got us in this mess.” Marcus sounded small, alone, and almost fragile in the dark where Sam couldn’t see his expression. “I’ll get us out of here somehow. I promise.”
Sam wanted to believe him, so he relented. “Okay.”
Marcus cleared his throat. Collecting his courage, Sam surmised, so he gave Marcus a moment of peace. Then Marcus let out a long breath.
“We should probably head toward the light source we saw from above. I can see it more clearly now.”
Though Sam couldn’t tell if Marcus had gestured in any particular direction, he also saw the faint, cold illumination up ahead. The light was bleak and bluish. Though it wasn’t inviting, Sam was well aware that direction was their best bet. His wild imagination envisioned everything from a clandestine lair of hardened criminals to a hidden underground domicile of secret government labs to dormant zombie hordes or warrens of cybernetic mole people.
“Take the lead.” Sam waved at Marcus to go first.
Marcus’s boots crunched on the loose stones as he proceeded toward the light at a slow but steady pace. Less certain, Sam followed on his heels, partly to stay within reach of his only available protector and partly to feel close to the guy he’d been fantasizing about for too many years now.
While Marcus focused on what lay ahead, Sam brooded about a means of escape. Screaming their heads off wouldn’t help since their houses were in the mountains, several miles away from the center of town. And the footpath they’d taken wasn’t in regular use by anyone other than denizens of the area. Of which there were few. Besides, who knew how far underground they were now?
“What do you see?” Sam asked in a whisper.
Marcus glanced at him over his shoulder, his face all weirded out. “Dude, why are you whispering?”
Sam flushed in embarrassment. “I don’t know. Monsters?” To end the awkwardness, he shoved Marcus hard to push him back into motion. “Shut up.”
Marcus rolled his eyes but thankfully stayed quiet. He continued forward.
As they slowly approached the source of the light, the dirt and rock walls of the cavern morphed into roughhewn stone and finally into what was clearly a manmade structure, smooth and flawless. A crack with no jagged edges appeared in the wall. It rose before them like a sliver of silver cut into the rock with a blade. The light spilled from the crack.
“No glowing mushrooms, then,” Sam murmured, fisting the back of Marcus’s coat like it was his only lifeline. “You hear anything?”
Marcus shook his head. “Nope. Just you. Shush.”
For once Sam felt it was quite appropriate to follow orders, and he obeyed without question.
As they came to the opening, they realized what they were looking at was a set of automatic sliding doors jammed slightly open. Marcus waved his hand through the crack lightning-fast. Nothing happened.
“I think it’s stuck.”
Sam nodded, though Marcus had his back turned. “Can you wedge it open?”
Marcus faced him, shock written all over his handsome features. Sam understood. He’d even surprised himself uttering those brave words. But whatever lay ahead was manmade from the look of things, so there had to be tools, supplies, or best of all, an alternative exit. Sam blushed but said nothing.
Shrugging, Marcus turned to the doorway again and shifted from side to side, trying to discern what was beyond. “Check it out. What do you see?”
Marcus stepped aside, and Sam moved into position to peer through the crack as best he could without putting hi
mself in harm’s way.
The space appeared to be circular, a chamber of some sort. A metallic construction rose in the center, but Sam couldn’t tell what it was as a dusty sheet covered it. Oval alcoves lined the walls at regular intervals, but they were shadowy, so he couldn’t detect what, if anything, was in them.
Sam huffed with frustration. “I can’t see. The light doesn’t provide much illumination.”
Marcus snorted. “Only you would use a word like illumination at a time like this.” He continued, however, before Sam could retort. “I think we can squeeze through the aperture.”
“Oh, so aperture is not a big word?” Sam stepped back. “I wouldn’t normally agree with such a stupid plan, but it’s not like we’ve got a lot of options here.” Then he narrowed his eyes. “You go first.”
Marcus grinned. “By your command, my liege.”
Sam gritted his teeth, biting his tongue not to snap at the smartass remark. Marcus was, after all, doing his best to save them both. Regardless of the fact that his actions and curiosity had landed them in this underground facility to begin with.
After waving his hand in the opening a few more times, Marcus shrugged and wiggled his way through it. He could barely fit, his winter coat probably chafing and perhaps even getting a bit torn. But he managed to cram his muscular body through the crack, so Sam figured he could do the same.
Once Marcus got inside, he stood looking around without moving.
“What does it look like?” Sam asked, hoping for more information before he ventured through himself. “Does it look like someone’s living there or been there in a while? See a blinking sign for an exit?”
“Hang on, chipmunk.” Marcus moved off into the dim. Sam heard his boots scuffle on the stone floor, their steps cautious, but he couldn’t see Marcus anymore. It took him a good while to return to the opening. “No one’s here. But there are… lots of doorways. Or openings. Sort of.”
Sam frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
Marcus gave him a chin lift. “Better see for yourself.”
Sam swallowed hard. With no small amount of hesitation, he squeezed through the fissure. He didn’t have any difficulties fitting, as he was far more slender than Marcus. Once inside, however, he was no longer sure they should have entered the facility at all.
A wide round light in the domed ceiling gave off a faint blue glow, not enough to show any details, only to give a rough picture of the chamber. Though the entrance had been rough-hewn rock, the walls of the room were metal, their surface gleaming polished and clear. As Sam had seen before, oval alcoves appeared every few feet, pitch-black like open mouths.
One of the recesses, however, showed an automatic door similar to the one they had used to get in. Sam gestured toward it, and Marcus nodded, moving closer. But when he reached the door, nothing happened. Sam joined him. He could see no buttons, handles, levers, or toggles.
“I think it needs power,” Marcus suggested, and Sam agreed. The place seemed to be in lockdown mode or powered down. “Could we jimmy it open like the other door? Got a crowbar or two in that useful backpack of yours?” He smirked, nodding toward Sam’s backpack.
Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Am I habitually carrying breaking-in equipment in my bag? Sorry, I must’ve missed that memo. I’m in college, not in the CIA.”
“Okay, okay. No need to be such a smarty-pants.” Marcus turned around and checked out the room, and Sam followed his example. “We could search the room for something to use, but there doesn’t seem to be much here,” Marcus finally said.
“There’s that.” Sam pointed at the object covered by a white sheet, only metal struts showing under it. The overall shape, however, suggested to Sam it was a chair.
“Okay. Let’s take a look.” Marcus strode toward it and yanked the sheet off, sending a dust cloud dancing in the air. Marcus coughed, and Sam waved his hand in front of his face to see what was revealed.
As they had expected, it was a metal chair. A simple hard seat with a backward tilting backrest and two armrests.
“At least there was no skeleton. Not even an alien skeleton.” Sam smirked at Marcus’s smile.
“Were you waiting for one?” Marcus asked, chuckling.
“I watch a lot of science fiction on TV.”
Laughing harder, Marcus inched closer and placed his hand on the seat. Sam imagined it was cold and smooth to the touch. At the moment, though, he was too concerned to think about sensations.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Sam asked in alarm. “You better not be thinking of sitting in it.”
Marcus quirked an eyebrow and gave Sam a lopsided smile. “Why not?”
Sam huffed in indignation. “Why? ’Cause you could get hurt in it. Prick your finger on a metal shard and get blood poisoning or—”
“Or what? Gangrene?” Marcus laughed, shaking his head in bemusement. “God, you can be such a worrywart.”
“You have no idea what that thing is,” Sam argued back angrily. “For all you know it could be an alien electric chair, or something.” He was afraid. Without Marcus’s help, his chances of getting out of this unharmed would be greatly reduced. “Please, Marcus. Let’s just find a way out of here. I don’t wanna die before I get the full college experience and graduate with honors.”
“Why? You got big plans? Gonna be on College Guys Gone Wild or something?” His smug smirk only served to infuriate Sam more.
“Or something. And it’s none of your business,” Sam snapped defensively, feeling his cheeks flame with embarrassment. The mental image of hot guys with flawless six-packs writhing naked while water spouted over them turned Sam on whether he liked the reaction or not.
Marcus merely chuckled in response. Then he sat in the chair.
Nothing happened.
Marcus sported his winning smile. “See? Everything’s cool.”
Sam had his doubts. Worrying his bottom lip, he cautiously eased closer to see the chair for himself. Maybe nothing bad happened because this facility, or whatever it was, had no power. The doors didn’t open, and the chair didn’t work. Unless it was just a fancy metal seat for no real purpose.
Then there were the odd alcoves. Sam peered into them from his position in the center of the room. The chair stood on a slightly raised metal dais. Yet the vantage point yielded no answers because the sole source of light, the round lamp above them, didn’t cast any beams into the darkness of the niches. Their function and purpose remained a mystery, and Sam didn’t feel like exploring.
Marcus cried out suddenly and sharply, and Sam cried out as well in a purely instinctive reaction.
“Jesus Christ, what?” Sam asked, practically yelling.
Grimacing, Marcus rubbed at his palm where a bloody smear formed a circular pattern but spread no farther. “Something nicked me from the armrest.”
“Oh my God, I told you to be careful.” Sam fisted his hands and prayed for control. No reason to kick a man already down. “What was it? Is the chair broken or twisted or something?”
Marcus studied the armrest closely, squinting and frowning. Then he shook his head. “I don’t see anything. It felt fine before. A clean surface. Don’t know what happened.” He inspected his palm. “Nothing serious. The wound’s already closed.”
“You got lucky,” Sam murmured with disapproval.
Marcus let out a relieved chuckle and gave Sam a sheepish smile. “As long as I don’t get gangrene.”
His singsong voice was deliberately intended to drive his companion bonkers, Sam deduced, and he resisted the urge to flick his tongue at Marcus. That would have been childish. Still, Sam wanted to glare Marcus into submission so that he would never try or do anything crazy again. But he didn’t want to crush the guy’s spirit. So he answered with a chuckle of his own, as choked and unhappy as it sounded.
The light above flickered. A slow hum rose in the chamber, and a heavy noise like grinding gears or generators powering up echoed inside the walls and under
their feet.
Then a bright flash brought up a slightly upward tilted, panoramically concaved, blue-glowing holographic console in front of Marcus, who still sat in the chair.
“What the fuck?” Marcus called out in surprise, raising his hands at his sides, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. “What the hell just happened?”
Sam had only ever seen such elegant holographic technology in the science fiction TV shows he loved to watch. But that was fiction; this was fact. “It’s a hologram.” Marcus stared at him like he’d grown a second head so Sam elaborated, “Remember, like in that movie Minority Report? In it the main character used a holographic screen to do his job.”
Marcus blinked, frowning. Then his brow cleared and he nodded. “Yeah, vaguely. It’s a pretty old movie. It came out, like, fifteen years ago? Seen others since then. Like Avengers and Iron Man, for example?” He scanned the unmoving screen before him. “But that’s what this is? I thought they were, you know, not real.”
Sam shook his head. “No, they’re real. Works in progress. There’s, for example, a virtual holographic DJ console. In the movie, and others since then, they had all kinds of stuff, some already here, some still in the works—like holographic computer interfaces controlled with gestures and words. The movie sucked, but the tech was cool. Xbox Kinect uses those too.”
Marcus licked his lips, looking nervous. “So… I control this interface with, like, my hands, or…?”
Sam let out a disbelieving gasp. “What? You’ll do no such thing. Get out of that chair this instant. Do not fucking touch any of it.” He stared at Marcus intently. “I swear, Marcus, if you do anything stupid… I’m leaving you here.”
Marcus gave him a warm, amused glance. “No, you wouldn’t. ’Cause you’re a great guy, Sam.” Then he grew serious. “Look, I’d love to oblige you and all, but… how am I supposed to get out of this chair without touching this… holoscreen?”
Sam hadn’t thought of that. Would the holoscreen activate if any part of Marcus’s body came into contact with it, or would it respond to just his hands? An epiphany hit him like a lightning bolt. He snapped his fingers. “That must be why you got pricked. Your palm. Maybe to make you, I don’t know, user-friendly with the technology?”