by Alton Gansky
“No one told you to fire!” Finn shouted.
The bullets disappeared into the corpse’s gray flesh, leaving tiny holes behind. A second later, small streams of powder began to flow from the wounds, then the flattened bullets reappeared and dropped.
Tuttle said something, but Perry wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on the thing before him as it morphed before his eyes. The Barrett creature had been facing Perry and the others, but as Perry watched, the thing’s face disappeared and the back of Barrett’s head took its place. Then, as if sliding on ice, it moved to the doorway.
“We did it,” Tuttle said. “We scared it off.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Perry said. “I think you made a very big mistake.”
Barrett the man began to change. He stopped at the threshold of the opening. His back became his front again.
“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Jack said. “It makes me a little queasy.”
“Just a little?” Zeisler said.
“Okay, maybe a lot.”
Barrett’s legs began to widen, as did his torso and head. His features stretched, as if he were made of Play-Doh.
“He’s filling the doorway,” Zeisler said. “He’s sealing us in!”
“How can a man do that?” Dean asked.
“It’s not a man,” Perry said.
The last feature of Barrett’s to disappear was the mouth that had been stretched into a hideous line. “Help meeeee . . . .”
“No!” Tuttle screamed. He pulled the trigger of the machine gun again, and the sound of gunfire pierced the confined space. Perry covered his ears. The rounds buried themselves in the place where the door used to be.
“Stand down, Tuttle!” Finn ordered, but Tuttle kept the trigger down. When the clip was empty, he reached for his spare. He never touched it. Dean backhanded Tuttle across the nose hard enough to knock the soldier down. Then he reached down and pounded a fist into the man’s cheek.
“You were told to stand down.” Dean turned his own weapon on Tuttle. “Let me have the weapon, son.” Tuttle surrendered it. “Sidearm, too.”
Tuttle handed the pistol to Dean, then drew the back of his hand across his face, smearing the blood that ran from his nose.
Dean studied him for a moment. “You stay put until you regain your composure.” He stepped to Finn. “I apologize, sir. I take full responsibility for his actions.”
Finn nodded. “Break down the extra weapons, including those belonging to the deputies. We are the only ones to be armed. Understood?”
“Understood.”
The smell of spent gunpowder burned Perry’s eyes and nose. Through the haze, Perry watched as Dean removed the slides from the 9 mm pistols and field-stripped the MP5 machine gun.
“Now that the party has settled,” Zeisler said with a cough, “maybe we could address this little issue.”
Perry followed his gaze. The occasional drip in the pit had turned steady. A drop descended every second. As it did, more noxious fumes rose in the air and mixed with the acrid smell of gunpowder.
Without fresh air, Perry estimated that they had less than fifteen minutes to live.
Chapter30
Perry’s eyes burned and flooded with tears, trying to purge the stinging fumes from his tender corneas. His skin felt hot and tender, as if he had spent the last few days under a blistering Sahara sun. He coughed, then coughed again. Forcing himself to take shallow breaths, he pulled his undershirt up over his nose. The others followed his example. Janet pulled a white handkerchief from the rear pocket of her uniform.
“I’m open to ideas,” Perry said. No suggestion came.
Jack had moved to where the doorway had stood and was examining the material. He had taken with him the backpack that Gleason had packed. Perry joined him just as Jack dropped to a knee and began riffling through the pack. He removed the battery powered rotary tool and attached one of several routing bits. He flicked the switch, and the tool came to life. Jack plunged it into what had once been the figure of a man named Barrett. The drill slowed as the bit’s sharp edge began plowing away material.
“It worked on the chain-link fence, maybe it will work here.”
“That will take too long,” Carl said.
“He’s not cutting an escape hatch, Deputy,” Perry said. “He’s trying to make an airway.”
“How long do you think we can all stand around taking turns grabbing a breath of fresh air?” Tuttle demanded.
“As long as it takes,” Perry said. “Do you have a better idea?”
The question silenced Tuttle. Perry directed his attention back to Jack and the rotary tool. Bits of dust and flakes of material flew as the high-rpm tool ate away at the surface.
“This thing has power, but the hole fills seconds after I cut anything away,” Jack said.
Perry had trouble believing his eyes. He watched the tool eat a one-inch hole in the wall; then, the instant Jack removed the tool, the hole filled in again.
Perry riffled through Jack’s pack. Gleason had packed tools, but he had not brought as many as Jack made it out to be. Inside the pack was the plastic case that held the rotary tools, various drilling and routing bits, and a small assortment of grinding disks. He found a hammer, a three-piece chisel set, bungee cords, plastic ties, and a small power screwdriver.
“I don’t think Gleason is much of a camper,” Jack said. “Not your usual tools for a couple of nights in the woods.”
“He loves his tools,” Perry said. “Who could have anticipated this?”
The others gathered around as Perry removed the hammer and the largest of the three chisels. The hammer was what Perry considered an “in-home” hammer; it was light and small, nothing like the framing hammer he wished he had. Nonetheless, Perry rose and started working the hammer and chisel into the surface. No sooner than he chipped away a chunk of wall, it filled in again. He stopped.
“You’re not giving up, are you?” Janet asked. “It can’t do that forever.”
“It’s been doing it for more years than we can count,” Zeisler said.
Perry watched as the chunks he had chipped away and the dust that Jack had ground away moved back to the wall and assimilated themselves into the surface. He patted his friend on the shoulder. “We’re going to have to think of something else.”
Jack agreed. “I have this horrible image that all that sand outside is piled up against the door, just waiting to fill any hole we make. We’d be here a lifetime. The batteries would be long dead before we made a decent air hole . . . even if we could make one.” He tossed the tool into the pack.
The air was growing thicker and more pungent. The steady drops of water were coming faster. Soon they would be a trickle.
“No one will ever find us,” Tuttle said. His anger had become despondency.
Perry’s mind raced. He might die here, but he would do so trying to find a way to save his friends. He closed his eyes and recalled everything Zeisler had told him, living through his imagination his father’s experience. What an odd irony. He had come all the way here to save his father’s life, and now he might die before his father did.
And then an idea hit him. “Electricity.”
“What?” Zeisler demanded. “What about electricity?”
Gleason picked up the idea before the others. “Of course, the system must be electrical in some sense. If the nano-sized flakes are not biological and therefore chemical, they must be mechanical—or a combination.”
“So?” Finn asked. His cough sounded wet. “No one knows that. You’re guessing.”
“True, and prayerful guesses are all I have.” Perry looked at Janet. Tears trickled down her face. Carl stood next to her. They were holding hands.
“What?” she said. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Turn around,” Perry said.
“Why . . . ,” she began, then did as Perry asked.
He saw it. He crossed the room and reached to her Sam Browne utility belt and pulled an electr
onic device he had seen on television. He held the black plastic item in his hands. Two chrome leads protruded from one end.
“This is a stun gun, right? It’s a high-voltage, low-amp weapon meant to immobilize an uncooperative suspect.”
“Yeah,” Janet said. “Be careful who you touch with it.”
Gleason’s eyes lit up. “Brilliant. It might work.”
“Someone fill me in,” Finn demanded.
“If the sand—the flakes of biotronics that make up the sand—are electronically controlled, then a sudden burst of electricity might disrupt their ability to reform or to bond. The electrical connection between them has to be very low voltage. I’m hoping to knock them out of commission.”
“Do you think it will work?” Janet asked.
“I know one way to find out.” Perry found the trigger switch on the device. “Stand back.” Everyone did. Perry held his breath as he plunged the contact points into what had once been an open passageway.
He pressed the switch. There was a spark, the room darkened, and the doorway appeared as the grains of sand dropped to the floor. A second later they had reassembled themselves and filled the doorway again. Fresh air rushed in.
“How can they do that so fast?” Dean asked. “It’s impossible.”
“Guess not,” Finn said.
“I estimate it took them one second to do that,” Gleason said.
“Thirty years ago, I saw the terrain change from desert to forest to ocean in seconds,” Zeisler added. “And we’re talking acres of change.”
“We do this in shifts,” Perry said. “One person should be able to make it through in a second. A second is a long time.” He paused. “We need a test subject.”
“Mr. MacCumhail goes first,” Dean said.
“And why is that?” Carl asked.
“Because he has a responsibility to our nation. He’s the highest-ranking individual on the premises.”
“So much for women and children first,” Jack said.
Dean raised his gun. “Mr. MacCumhail goes first.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Finn said. He hacked. “You and Tuttle are to follow right after me.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “At least his homeland is secure.”
“You doubt my courage?” Finn asked. His tone was bitter.
“I doubt everything about you,” Jack answered.
“Let’s just do this,” Gleason said. “The influx of air was helpful, but it’s fading fast. I could use another blast.”
Perry raised the stun gun. “Ready?”
Finn nodded and stepped to the spot where the door had been. “Go.”
Perry stuck the electronic device into the wall and pressed the trigger. Sand rained down, and Finn leaped through the opening. There was a whoosh, and half a second later the wall was back in place.
“Is it just me or was the reassembly faster?”
“It’s learning,” Zeisler said. “That’s what it does. It learns even as it dies.”
“Next,” Perry said. “Let’s speed this up. The train is leaving, if you know what I mean.”
Dean turned to Tuttle. “You good to go?”
“Yes, sir, but you should go first.”
Dean looked at the others, then back at Tuttle. “Here.” He handed Tuttle his sidearm. “There’s no time to reassemble yours. If they give you any trouble . . . you know.”
“Understood, sir.”
Dean stepped to the same spot that Finn had occupied moments earlier. “Hit it.”
Perry did. The sand fell, and Dean charged forward.
He tripped. The wall had partially deconstructed, leaving a two-foot rise at the threshold.
“Uh-oh,” Gleason said. “It’s catching on.”
“That, or the battery is losing some of its power. That wall may be draining it faster than it was designed to handle.” Perry looked at Tuttle. “You may have to jump for it.”
“Don’t worry about me, Sachs. I can handle it.”
“Say when.”
Tuttle stood several steps back from where Finn and Dean had. He lowered his head, then worked his fingers on the gun. “Now.” He started forward.
Perry hit the button.
Sand fell, then reassembled itself. There was a muted scream—a horrible, blood-freezing wail.
Tuttle was stuck in the wall. His right foot and left elbow was still in the room. How much of the man was on the outside, Perry could only guess, and guessed it wasn’t much. Perry plunged the stun gun’s points into the wall again and fired the trigger. Nothing.
Tuttle’s foot twitched. There was another soul-chilling wail, then the foot stopped moving.
“No!” Perry pressed the trigger again . . . and again . . . again. Nothing.
A big hand took Perry by the wrist. “It’s too late, pal. It’s over.”
Perry pressed the trigger again. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Behind him, the dripping had become a trickle.
Perry felt sick, more from the shock of watching Tuttle die in an unimaginable way than from the rising fumes. Still, the fumes were the pressing problem. Opening the doorway had allowed some fresh air in and vented some of the putrid air. But now the amount of water falling was increasing and with it the amount of noxious fumes.
“At least we were on the right track,” Gleason said. “I can’t tell if the last effort failed because the stun device had used its battery or because this place adapts so quickly.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Carl said. “We have to come up with another way out.”
“It does matter,” Perry insisted. “If it’s the battery, then we might be able to hook up some of the batteries from the power tools for another jolt.” Perry fired the stun gun again. Nothing happened. He opened it and found two 9-volt batteries. They were warm to the touch. “Okay, Gleason, how do we get juice from the rotary tool to this thing?”
“I can try, Perry, but the doorway closed up so fast, I’m not sure any of us could make it through in time.”
“What about the water?” Jack asked. “Water is dripping on the sand and releasing fumes. That means the material must be dissolving. We have water bottles. Maybe we could melt our way through.”
“That would generate more fumes,” Zeisler said. “We’d be killing ourselves faster.”
“We’re killing ourselves if we do nothing,” Janet said. “I say we try the water thing.”
“I say we try both,” Perry stated. “Gleason, let’s get started on those batteries. Maybe we can rig a sustained charge that would keep the thing open a little longer.”
Janet coughed. Then coughed again. She doubled over. The gas had filled the domed ceiling and was working its way down. Carl went to her side.
“Time is gone,” Zeisler murmured.
Perry’s mind raced. He was out of options. He knew he didn’t have time to find a way to wire incompatible batteries to the stun gun. At most they had a handful of minutes. Sadness swept over Perry. He had failed his father; he had failed his friends. He didn’t fear death, he had faced it before, and he had made his peace with God many years ago. For him, death was the great adventure, but he felt an obligation for the lives of Zeisler, Carl, Janet, and his friends. They were all here because he allowed them to believe that they might save his father. As far as Perry was concerned, that made them his responsibility.
He lowered his head. The pain in his heart hurt more than the pain in his lungs.
“It’s been a good ride, pal,” Jack said. “No regrets.”
Perry looked up. Jack was smiling. Next to him was Gleason, who grinned and echoed Jack’s “No regrets.”
Gleason’s words pierced Perry like a flaming arrow. Gleason had a wife and two children waiting for him. Too many times Perry had dragged the family man to distant parts of the world. Now he had robbed Gleason’s family of a husband and father.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t help your father,” Jack said.
The fumes inched down the walls.
�
�I have been blessed to have the world’s best friends—”
“We’re going about this all wrong,” Zeisler said. “All wrong.” He walked to the pit and looked in. “All wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Perry asked.
Zeisler peered up to the shaft above the pit, the shaft through which the water was falling.
“Are you thinking of diverting the water?” Jack asked. “That’s a good idea. It might buy enough time—”
“No, it wouldn’t,” Zeisler said. “In a few minutes, the water flow will be too much, and we have no place to divert it.” He looked at the sand again. Perry saw wafting white vapor rising like gossamer steam from a cup of tea. “Get by the door.”
“What are you thinking?” Perry asked.
“I’m thinking we’re all going to suffocate or drown as our own fluids fill our lungs. I did this once; I can do it again.”
“Do what?” Perry pressed.
“It’s odd that I should think of this now,” Zeisler said. He gazed straight into Perry’s eyes. “I had colon cancer about ten years ago. I went through extensive chemotherapy. Tell your father’s doctors that. I’ve got a feeling that’s why I didn’t come down with what killed the others.”
“We’ll come up with something, Dr. Zeisler.”
“Ironically, I came here to kill this thing. I didn’t want to die like the others. Now it appears that it’s going to kill me anyway. Get by the door.”
“Hey, Doc, listen to Perry—” Jack started.
“Get by the door!” Zeisler screamed.
“Maybe we should listen to him,” Jack said, motioning for the others to join him.
Perry held his ground. “Dr. Zeisler—”
“If you had a rifle, and a bear was charging you and your friends, what would you do?”
“Shoot it,” Perry said without hesitation.
“We’ve been hoping this place would stay together long enough for us to get out of this room. It’s trying to hold itself together and keep us here. I don’t think it can do that for very long. It’s time to shoot the bear.”