"Nervous?"
"Not really." Will shrugged, the suit's material heavy and unfamiliar on his shoulders. "I've been through worse."
Immanuel whistled. "One'a dem agent types, eh? They tole me you was th' best'a th' best."
"That's what they told me, too. I hope it's true."
Immanuel laughed. "Sure you'll do fine."
"Thanks."
Immanuel gestured out the window. "We below th' cloud line now. Take a look. It's fine, d'is Midwest place."
Will stood up and peered out the glass window. At first, the sky was the only thing he could see, but then the plane tilted slightly.
And he saw it. Like a vast blanket, a brown-green ocean spread out below the plane, as far as the eye could see. Grass? But...there was so much of it! There was nothing but grass. In Europe, there were signs of human life most everywhere. There were trees planted in the middle of urban backgrounds to keep up the oxygen levels, but nothing of this wild beauty. Now he understood why his grandparents loved their country so much.
"A land is a reflection of the people who live there," his grandmother used to say. And this stark land was wild, beautiful...vast. He imagined fields of grain, gold amongst the brown-green grasses—and fruit trees, tall and dark—and hamlet-like towns where everyone knew everyone...
"Wow," Will whispered. He couldn't tear his eyes off the sight.
"Amazin', ain't it?" Immanuel said from his chair. "God work somet'ing good when he createh America."
There was a few moments of silence while Will drank in the sight. Finally, reluctantly, he pulled himself away from the window and sat down again. "How far are we from our destination?"
"'Bout fifteen minute."
Will swallowed. Sure, he had skydived before, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it.
He glanced out the window. "Radiation level?"
"Pretty low," Immanuel said, examining one of his screens. "Still too high for you ta go suitless, though." He turned to Will. "Ready?"
Will fastened his helmet and stood up. "Ready as I'm going to get."
"Right." Immanuel tapped his dashboard. "You kin go out ta th' hatch, an' I'll tell you when ta jump. I'll be communicatin' ta you with you comm system, and once you on th' ground, HQ'll be talkin' direct, usin' my signal. Got it?"
"Got it."
"God go with you."
Will nodded, and headed into the hallway. The hatch's inner lid slid open, leaving the thick outer door between Will and the elements.
The plane dived, and Will steadied himself on the wall, his stomach lurching.
He could do this. He'd done it before, after all. And he was going to walk on the land where his ancestors had lived. He concentrated on the image he had: a vast plain beneath a clear blue sky.
"Hatch openin'," came Immanuel's scratchy voice over Will's comm system. "Steadyin' the plane, hold on ta somethin'."
The plane abruptly straightened. Will held onto a door frame and stabilized himself.
Once the plane had steadied, the hatch slid open with a hiss, revealing the cloudless sky. Will swallowed back his fear and stepped forward.
Immanuel's voice crackled through Will's comm system. "Time ta jump, Will. Godspeed."
Will sucked in a breath, and jumped.
************
Will's feet hit the ground with a thump, reverberating through the speakers in his helmet. His legs buckled a bit, but he managed to stay upright. He breathed deeply for a moment, freeing the parachute harness from his torso.
"Glad that's over," he muttered. "As much as I love skydiving, I'm glad to see Mother Earth again." Not that there was anyone but his comm to hear his sarcasm. He waited for his stomach to settle—that awful empty feeling remained in his gut like a cold, clenched fist.
After a moment, he took a few steps forward, enjoying the feel of the knee-high green-brown grass. It gave a little beneath his feet, unlike the concrete streets of Europe. He could get used to this.
Will spoke louder. "Comm, get me a reading of the atmosphere." He turned around several times, examining the landscape. Kansas felt a lot more massive now that he was on the earth. Through his speakers, he could hear the wind rustling through the sea of grass.
The silence—the total lack of any life—was unnerving. He shivered.
"Temperature, twelve Celsius," said his comm system. "Carbon dioxide levels low. Oxygen levels high. Radiation, low."
"Good.” If it weren't for the nuclear residue in the atmosphere, he'd take off his suit. But he could still taste the air. The suit filtered out the radiation and let him breathe the cool air. It smelled good, nothing like the dirty, dingy air back in Europe. Clean, fresh, grassy. A land where the wind was free.
His comm system beeped. "Call waiting."
Already? They must have put a decent tracking signal in the suit. "Open communications."
"Opening," replied his comm system. There was a short pause.
"You read me, my man?" Immanuel's voice.
"Loud and clear, Immanuel. Where am I?"
Will heard the sound of tapping through the comm.
"I'm sendin' th' map a th' area ta you wrist reader," Immanuel said. "You about four kilometer away from th' entrance you tryin' ta reach."
His comm system beeped again. Will flipped open his wrist reader and squinted at the map that glowed on the screen, which was smaller than his palm. A green blip blinked. That was probably him. His destination was represented by a red blip, northeast of the green blip.
"All right, thanks," Will said. "I'm going to start walking. I'll call you once I reach the entrance."
He terminated the call and set out. One foot after another, he'd get there.
************
Will checked his wrist reader. "Almost there," he said, to himself.
"Three hundred eleven meters until your destination," replied the comm system.
Will shook his head. "Turn off automatic notifications." If there was something that would never fail to annoy him, it would be tech.
"Shut down disabled."
Tech with an attitude. "Why?"
"Administrative authority required to disable notifications."
"I wasn't notified of this."
"Notification is left to the administrator's discretion."
He sighed. "All right, whatever."
"Command does not compute."
"Never mind." Will kept walking.
"Two hundred thirty meters until your destination," said the comm system.
Will decided to shut his mouth, clasping his hands behind his back, as if to stifle the built-in comm on his wrist reader. Maybe the comm system would shut up with no one to talk to.
After a few moments of silence, the comm system spoke up again. "Destination is twelve meters to your left."
Will stopped and looked to his left. Nothing but the never-ending grasses, waving from the crest of a nearby rise. "I don't see anything." He flipped open his wrist reader. The green blip that represented Will was right on top of the red dot.
"Destination is beneath the ground and cannot be seen.”
"Thank you for telling me the obvious."
"You are welcome," replied the comm system.
Will walked to his left about twelve or so meters, but he didn't see anything. "Call Immanuel," he told his comm.
Immanuel answered the call on the second ring. "You d'ere?" he said.
"Yeah, but I don't see anything."
There was silence from Immanuel's end. "Hold on, let me check somet'ing," Immanuel said. Will waited.
"D'ere," Immanuel said. "Accordin' ta th' report, th' entrance was in a hollow, beneat' a hill. If you tear away th' grass, you should find a place ta punch in you numbers."
Will bent down on the rise and thumped around in the grass with a gloved fist. Towards the bottom of the rise there was a metallic noise.
"I think I found it." Will dug his fingers into the grass and tore it up by the roots, uncovering a rusty lid. He easily wrenched it
off its hinges, exposing a dusty, grimy square touchpad. As soon as the light of the sun touched it, it turned on and a set of keys appeared.
"Beep me once you get it open," Immanuel said. There was a click.
"Call terminated," the comm said.
Will called up the coordinates on his wrist reader, and carefully punched them into the touchpad. Once he had touched the last number, the touchpad dinged, and turned off.
Will stood back...and waited.
Nothing happened.
And then the ground began to shake—vibrating, rumbling, quaking. Will backed away from the rise as it got worse.
Like a dog shaking itself off after jumping in water, the hill shed its grassy coat. Dirt streamed from it, until the unmistakable sheen of steel shone dully beneath it. A door?
With one final shudder, it rid itself of the last of the dirt. And with a click, the steel door opened.
"Dial Immanuel," Will said. He took a step forward.
"Redirecting call," the comm replied.
Immanuel was probably forwarding his signal on to HQ. Will waited.
"Vullerman?"
Will recognized the voice—Sunglasses again. "Sir."
"Is the gateway open?"
"Yes, sir. I was preparing to enter."
There was a short pause. "Good. According to our sources, there's still a blocking signal surrounding the area. We will no longer be able to communicate with you once you enter the door. Once you've discovered what's inside, however, you are to come back outside and report. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are free to go now. We'll be keeping the comm signal open for your return."
"Thank you." Will took a deep breath and pushed open the steel door, entering the darkness within. He caught a glimpse of grey concrete, but then, with a thump, the light suddenly disappeared. He turned.
The door had shut behind him, leaving him in near-total darkness. He put his palms on the metal and shoved, but the door didn't even shift, much less open.
So he was trapped. At least for now. Later, he might be able to find a place to punch in his coordinates again, but now he had no choice but to continue with his mission.
A chill ran down his spine. What if there was something down here? Something still alive? Nuclear influence could warp DNA, make cells mutate. Might it have done something here?
And if there was something in the darkness...
"Any signal?" he asked his comm system.
"Negative," his comm said. "No signal."
“What about life signs?”
There was a pause. “A scan has been attempted, but the signals have returned corrupted.”
So he was alone. If something bad happened, he wouldn't be able to call for help. And he didn't even know if there was something alive down here.
Will pushed the thoughts out of his head. Never mind what he couldn't do; it was time to concentrate on what he could. He had a mission, and he had to fulfill it.
"Give me some light.”
Out of one fingertip beamed a small LED light. It cut back the darkness and showed Will the room he had walked into—no, it was a passageway, leading into the depths of the earth. The floor and walls glinted beneath his light. A tap with his foot confirmed it: it was some sort of metal. Steel, perhaps. Someone had invested a lot of money into this, then.
Time to go. HQ was expecting an update soon, so he'd better get on with it.
He started down the hallway. It reminded him of a book his grandparents had read aloud to him when he was younger. It had been written ages ago, but it was still a classic. He sure hoped he was heading to a world better than the one he had left behind, like the characters in the old story.
"Further up and further in," he muttered.
************
The passage curved down into the bowels of the earth. It made sense, Will supposed. The farther underground he went, the less he could be affected by the world outside.
After twenty minutes, Will came upon a steel door. He frowned. He didn't have any coordinates for other doors. Or would it use the same coordinates as the first door?
He searched the door with his light. No visible handle. His light stopped at a box just beside the door. A touchpad, perhaps? He lifted up the box and found a switch just beneath it, made of shiny steel and wider than his hand. With a little effort, Will threw the switch.
The door hissed, and then edged open on what was apparently electronic gears. Will flashed his light through the opening doorway, glimpsing a small chamber beyond. He walked through the doorway, and into the chamber.
It wasn't much wider than the hallway, and only six or seven meters long. An identical door with an identical switch sat at the end of the chamber.
Will stepped forward and pulled the switch down. But instead of the door in front of him opening, he heard the grinding of gears behind him.
No! Will cursed himself and turned, flashing his light at the door, but it was too late. With a hiss, the first door shut, and he could hear the locking of the gears through his speakers.
Shoot. Now what?
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a whirring in the air. With a sudden lurch of apprehension, he realized that the chamber was exactly like an airlock. Fool! Hadn't he at least thought things through before throwing the switch? His suit filtered the air; it didn't provide it. If the air was being sucked out, then he could die.
"Comm, atmosphere reading, please." Will's voice cracked.
"Carbon dioxide levels are rising, radiation is diminishing. Other levels are staying steady."
Will let out a sigh. The chamber must have been filtering out the air from outside and replacing it with its own.
The whirring stopped.
"No radiation detected," the comm said.
Will scanned the chamber again. There was no sign of the door opening, but at least he wasn't going to die. "Habitability analysis?"
"The air is safe for human life."
Good. He took off his helmet and breathed the air. It was a little stale. He was underground, after all. But it still tasted a lot better than the air he had breathed in urban Europe.
Click.
Will whirled about, shining his light in the direction of the sound, toward the second door. With a whir, the door began to open.
Swallowing hard, Will stepped through the door.
And a bullet ricocheted off the steel wall, mere centimeters from his head.
Ding!
Will's training kicked in, and he dove for the floor, dropping his helmet. What about the door? His light raced to the door he had just gone through. Closing.
"Light off," Will shouted, and his light clicked off, leaving him in total darkness.
He breathed in deep, calming breaths, striving against the sudden influx of adrenaline. Somewhere, there was a gun. That much was certain. The question was, was it being used by an automated turret or a real person?
He had seen no signs of life so far, so there was a good chance it was a computerized sentry of some sort.
Will moved to his right. If the computer-sentry could sense light and movement, then it would concentrate on the place it had last seen him. He hoped that the computer couldn't detect sound as well, but just in case, he tried to be as quiet as possible.
Will's mind raced. How would he dodge the bullets, assuming there were more? It came from somewhere in front of him. So if he could find his way across the room—if it was a room—he might be able to reach safety. That is, if there were no more ambushes ahead.
And he hoped that there was safe air wherever he was going, because he wasn't about to go looking for his helmet.
Will crouched and began to move forward, but as he did, he spotted a glow farther ahead of him.
A human?
He reached back and felt for his handgun, tucked into the back of his suit. There. His finger found the trigger, and he brought it forward, resting it against his thigh.
The glowing figure's feat
ures became clear. A girl. A little girl, not more than eight, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a mid twenty-first century dress.
And holding a gun, loosely in one hand.
The girl's eyes were blank. Like she didn't know what she was doing. It chilled Will's heart. What in the blazes was going on here?
She raised the gun. A shot rang out, and the bullet sparked on the steel flooring, not three meters away.
Will's hands trembled. He tried to raise the gun. Couldn't he defend himself? Wasn't it okay, in self-defense? His finger tightened around the trigger. His breathing spun out of control.
No. He couldn't. He couldn't—he wouldn't—defend himself against a little girl. He couldn't shoot.
He threw his gun down and stood up.
And then the little girl disappeared. Bright lights powered on along the ceiling, revealing a long hallway. Dust dimmed the shine of the steel where it hadn't before. Strange. Perhaps the radiation had something to do with the lack of dust in the previous rooms.
Will examined the area. Five meter ceiling, sleek walls and floors. And mounted on the wall to Will's left was some sort of automated artillery.
He let out a breath. So the little girl was an illusion. Will shivered. No wonder America had been attacked. They had technology that was far more advanced than anything Will had ever seen. All he could think was that, somehow, he had passed a test, and that the image of the little girl was created by a computer and projected. Perhaps it was a way of making sure that the intruders didn't have hostile intent.
But it had looked real.
Will picked up his handgun and shoved it in the pocket on the back of his suit. His helmet lay nearby. He grabbed it and put it under his arm, starting down the hallway.
So what was so valuable that so much money had been invested in this place? Why was it so hidden and protected?
He hoped to find out.
************
He rounded a bend and found yet another door waiting for him. Will glanced around. The passage led nowhere else, so perhaps this was his destination.
This door, however, had handles. Good, old-fashioned handles. Will switched his helmet to his left hand and grabbed the handle, yanking the door open.
Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology Page 2