I could feel an uneasiness in my core, a heaviness as my joints froze as I began to slowly wake up. There resided a fear so paralyzing that I couldn’t recollect thoughts of yesterday or last night. I had my fair share of terrors in the night, nightmares or sleep paralysis. This felt too real. IT felt like it hovered over me, inches away, watching and waiting.
Yet, the shuffling of people moving and boots scraping these black floors made me think this fear originated elsewhere. It still remained, and I didn’t dare open my eyes yet. It wasn’t until I could feel a presence beside me, lingering, boots pointed towards me.
Watching me. I was being watched, and not that of a guardian angel or aura of protection. I feared I couldn’t shake the demon trying to latch onto me, cling to me like a pack I couldn’t remove. Whatever darkness this was, it spoke of an omen, warning me if I were to continue in my work.
“What are you doing?” Damien’s voice rose over what had been practical silence. My fear worsened upon the realization it was him, or that’s what my mind first thought. It almost saddened me that my mind didn’t immediately refute the notion of him being a danger.
“I was just-” Owen spoke, moving away from me. My eyes flashed open, the two agents above me not even realizing I was awake.
“Fucking stay away from her,” Damien practically scowled, and quietly too for nobody else to hear, “Now’s not the time to gawk. Get to work.”
“Yes sir,” Owen clenched his jaw as he walked away, feeling like a scolded child who had been caught. Damien watched him walk away, tiredness and stress in his gray eyes. When he finally glanced at me, those darkened and haunted eyes softened, before dilating in surprise I was awake.
“Morning,” he kneeled down slightly, pulling something from one of his armor pockets before handing it to me.
It was a squeezable bottle of some sort of liquid. With how quickly he had forced it into my hands, he clearly didn’t want anyone seeing.
“Hi,” I sat up and glanced at it, “what is this?”
“Liquid protein. I’m tired of hearing your stomach growl,” He observed with slight irritation. I hummed at his answer, wondering why he was being so secretive about it if it was merely just a filling protein shake. But, I nodded and quickly unscrewed the cap, drinking the semi-thick fluid with ease with the opening in my mask. It tasted like shit, like a mock version of a cheap margarita.
“Thanks,” I muttered, washing it down with a long sip of water. When I started putting my things in order, I could see Regina was the only agent still sitting down, staring tiredly at the wall. “What’s wrong with Regina?”
Damien glanced back at her for a moment, grimacing, before looking at me.
“Team. Jack and I are going to check on the weather and test for communications. If we aren’t back in ten minutes, well, assume we’re dead,” Damien announced loudly to the group, moving away to grab his rifle.
Odd way to answer my question, not answering it at all. To me, it sounded like I would get one but not around others. As much as I didn’t like the idea of wandering around tunnels with Damien alone, that fearful feeling in my gut faded the further away I was from Owen. I made sure to secure my gear, holding only my datapad which still had lost connection with my team, before following Damien.
He said nothing, even keeping his helmet off for the time being as we walked to the center of this maze. The sun was slowly peeking through, but the wind still sounded strong from so high up. The storm was waning, but it was hard to tell how long it would last. Part of me felt like we should just leave now and come back later. Another part felt so intrigued to figure out what was inside.
“Regina said she was hearing voices,” Damien finally said, “I had Garcia check everyone’s vitals this morning and do a full scan on her. Nothing wrong with her, at least medically.”
“That seems rather dismissive of someone who is in your care,” I critiqued, seeing him tense up at my words, “Sorry, just…what were the voices saying?”
“She didn’t know what. She said it wasn’t anything she could understand. All she could make of it was that it sounded muffled, like hearing a noisy neighbor through thick and dense walls,” Damien explained, “She brought it up during the firewatch shift change. I hadn’t heard anything all night.”
“Okay,” I breathed out, “Is it possible her hearing devices are picking up a frequency we can’t?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you.”
“Well, it seems a much more rational assumption than thinking she’s crazy,” I retorted, “Could she distinguish if it was a conversation, or just verbal thoughts floating in the air?”
“As far as I know, you’re the only thing here that talks to themselves,” Damien teased, before his little smirk faltered, “She said it sounded like two. I sent her back to sleep, and told her to turn the aids off. Clearly, it’s still shaken her up a bit.”
“Doctor Deveraux, can you hear me?” a scratchy voice came over my comms, linked to our communication chip.
“Barely, can you hear me?” I asked.
“Storm is parting, but only briefly. You might have a two hour window before it worsens again,” Doctor O’Brien explained, “Sending you the results now. It came up with five most likely results.”
“Any idea on what the ridges represent?” I asked, watching as the report was being sent to my datapad. All five had similar probabilities based on what I articulated, skin oils, wear and tear of the ‘buttons’, and overall pattern.
“Negative, still working on that.”
“Copy. We’ll try these and see how it goes. Thanks,” I sighed, looking at Damien.
“Well, at least five sounds better than a quadrillion,” he offered some optimism.
I froze slightly, knowing he wasn’t able to hear that, “I don’t believe you have access to my comms.”
He made a noise equivalent to ‘oops’ before shrugging, “I have access to everyone’s. Even the private ones my team thinks are private. I work in intelligence, I like to know everything.”
Just the very thing I hated, someone spying on conversations.
“About that comment I made yesterday morning…” I crossed my arms, knowing if he was in my comms he would’ve heard it. And he just confirmed he could hear them from the very beginning.
“Oh, the one about my ego being bigger than…?” he smirked, clearly having heard it yesterday, “I forgot the last part of the metaphor.”
I groaned softly, rolling my eyes, “Yes, that comment.”
“Go on…say it,” he waited.
“Your ‘shrimp of a dick’...” I answered quickly, knowing he was just trying to get on my nerves.
“Ah yes, that was it. No offense taken by the way,” he winked, “Can’t be offended by something that’s not true. I’ll just consider it a part of your beautiful vocabulary of figurative language.”
“Those are some big words,” I cleared my throat, “anyways, two hours before that storm worsens. How about we try to open the door, take a look inside, run some scans, and head back?”
“Sounds good to me,” he agreed, taking one last look up at the cave entrance before moving back towards the central tunnel. SIlence once more.
I didn’t exactly mind Damien having access to comms. I was more upset at the fact I didn’t think he’d have access. Stupid of me to assume that. It’s not like any of this talk between my scientists was classified or something he didn’t need to know. If anything, I agreed it was best he did have access to everyone’s comms, just in case things got out of hand.
“Thank you…about Owen by the way,” I slipped my helmet on, having a moment of clarity.
“Mm, you shouldn’t have to thank me for common decency. It’s rude to stare,” Damien replied, “Trust me, if I could send him back to Milithreat, I would. But despite his egg-shaped brain, he’s the best at demolitions. I’d trust my life with him being able to disarm a nuclear bomb, but even I don’t like being in the same room with him.”
“He doesn’t like me,” I sighed, knowing I could do nothing to change that. It’s not like I even wanted him to like me, but basic respect would be nice.
“I don’t like you,” Damien reminded me, “but he’s braindead if he thinks we can succeed in this mission without you. He shouldn’t dare try anything troublesome with you.”
“Are your compliments always backhanded?” I questioned.
“For you? Always,” he chuckled softly, leading the way back. I ignored the way his laugh reverberated in my ears, like a sinful, hair raising whisper against the softest part of my neck. Instead, I focused on the data at hand as we returned to the group.
“Hey, has anyone been in my bag? I swore I had twelve protein shakes in here…” Grimes asked, glancing down at his supply pack.
I immediately side-eyed Damein through my helmet, which luckily nobody could see. Damien didn’t say or do anything, besides glance at the others in confusion. Grimes didn’t seem overly upset, only confused. Perhaps he had mistakenly packed eleven instead of twelve.
A liar. An eavesdropper. And now a thief. Damien’s reputation was certainly growing notorious with me.
Now, it was about getting that door open. Five choices, five potential possibilities, and who was to say what could happen if I picked the wrong one Luckily, it seemed like the first eight of the twenty digits were all the same, so I would know quickly if even that was wrong. I could feel all eyes on me, eager eyes as if to conclude the science in my work. I feared the verbal backlash I wouldn’t be able to hear if this failed.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed the first button on the pattern, hearing a noise soon after. Not a noise of clicking or a beep like some buttons were, but a deep, oddly pitched grunt almost. The second one was of a similar grunt, different pitch and sound. I took another glance at the ridges, realizing what they could symbolize.
“O’Brien, did you hear that?” I asked.
“Yeah, odd. The buttons correspond with a unique sound,” he agreed.
“Analyze the ridges as soundwaves, possibly inverted,” I ordered.
“They would be straight lines, Doctor,” another scientist chimed in.
“I know. Test the sounds like in a bowl, a circle, similar to echolocation. And then reference those sounds over the recordings and see if they correspond,” I added, seeing them run the tests over my datapad before my very eyes.
Damien stood behind my shoulder, eyes glaring down, watching live the two sounds made played over and over again. My team adjusted each setting, inverting them, before adjusting the pitch and audio settings. Sure enough, they were mirror images of each other, three bends of sound waves to the right, with the corresponding image just bending to the left.
“Impressive,” Damien muttered, eyes moving from the datapad to me.
“O’Brien, analyze the rest of the buttons and what sounds they make. Once complete, send all five results of the sounds together back to me,” I paced, hearing the scientists have that same awed optimism.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
I paced for a good two minutes, the rest of the agents talking amongst themselves or watching the empty space behind us. It wasn’t until I got the results back that everyone seemed to perk up. Twenty individual and robotic deep tones of pitch played five times, each of them unique after the eighth node. It wasn’t until the last one played that I noticed Regina stir uncomfortably. I played it again, seeing her already pale skin grow whiter.
Again, she signed to me.
I played the sound sequence again, every one of us having to hear that rhythmic, deep and demonic set of purrs. I paid no mind to the data, but rather looked at Regina. Damien seemed to understand too, walking over to her.
“Is this something you heard?” Damien asked, before signing it as well.
She nodded immediately, wet and fearful tears pooling in her blue eyes, “Try that one.”
No data or real analytics could come to a conclusion that the last module of five was the correct one. But, I knew something of intuition, a superpower certain individuals had. Regina could not fake the fear seizing her. She had heard this before and there was no reason not to believe her.
Was someone whispering her the password? I asked myself, finishing the sequence.
The door clicked before opening, lowering slowly. Damien was quick to step in front of me, rifle raised for any dangers that were directly behind. Instead of an empty tunnel like behind us, corpses laid at the door. Five of them, to be precise. With the door completely clear, the stench of rotting corpses hit all of our noses.
“Oh fuck,” Grimes gagged. I immediately adjusted the settings of my mask, wanting to filter that rotten stink away. Blood I could handle, but not the smell of decomposing rot.
“The door must’ve blocked the smell,” Owen sounded on the verge of throwing up.
Damien was the first brave one to step across the threshold, his foot gently nudging one of the bodies. One good kick set the one face down rolling to his back. All of them wore white thin fabric armor, weapons laying at their sides. Every single one of them had their bodies turned towards the door, bodies pressed so closely together in such a small space.
“They tried to open the door,” Damien observed, picking up one hand to show the fabric of their gloves had been torn by friction. Their skin and nails were scraped with blood from the friction with the ground. Claw marks and indents were in the floor, similar to the walls earlier, as they tried to somehow dig under the door in hopes of moving it aside. They must have not known the door was meant to lower, and never tried to scratch above it.
“Uhm,” Garcia swallowed, holding his datapad above them, “these men died at least five days ago, if not longer. Clearly, all five of them are in the process of decomposition.”
“Clearly,” I muttered to myself, finding myself to keep staring at them. They were trying to escape something. If it were the anathemas, then why did they not turn? If the anathemas could bite and turn someone, did they not want to come for these men? Perhaps Ruenova’s theory about them not being able to turn after death was incorrect.
“They’re from District One,” Damien noted, “Odd, given they weren’t known to have any territory of Colony Negative near us.”
“Maybe they got lost, took a wrong turn,” Grimes added. It was a possibility. Damien didn’t seem so sure about that.
“Any cause of death? I’m not seeing any exit wounds. No bruises or cuts other than the peeling from fingers,” Damien asked, being the closest as he kept touching the bodies. I noticed even he was growing wary. He must’ve dealt with a thousand corpses in his lifetime, but this was different. Something about this place just made everything different.
“Data here says asphyxiation. Very sudden asphyxiation,” Garcia swallowed.
“Well, they weren’t wearing their helmets. In fact, they’re still wearing just the base layers of their armor. Thin tunics meant for insulation from their actual gear, which is nowhere to be found. If they had their helmets, they would have survived,” Damien slowly began to move the bodies aside towards an edge of the tunnel walls, laying them on their backs one by one.
I moved to take a picture, lining up the grim burial before hesitating to press the button. It was like something told me internally not to document this, yet I did so anyways, taking a few angled shots.
“Well, their gear must be around here somewhere, let’s go take a look,” Damien ordered, already walking away. Everyone else hesitated, all looking at me in hopes maybe I’d counteract that command. But even I was curious as to whatever room they had come from and how they managed to end up here.
We didn’t have to walk for very long before noticing a very wide, open room. It was spacious yet full at the same time. Long benches made of the same black material were arranged strategically throughout the room, almost like an amphitheater. The blackness of everything inside pointed to a room of void, yet there was a lightness in the air that indicated otherwise.
“Room is clear,” Damien confirmed once all corners were checked. The room had two other entrances with doors wide open, one heading east and the other west. “Split into groups of two to monitor each tunnel. Regina, begin probing once more. Jack…do your thing.”
Whatever that is, I could hear him refuse to finish saying.
“It almost looks like a…” one of the scientists trailed off in my comms.
“Like a learning environment. A school. A church. Something where people sat and looked at something…” I added, hearing mumbles of wondrous affirmation.
The blank wall where it seemed all the benches were angled to had nothing of initial indication of anything special. It wasn’t until I noticed a square cut in the floor, as if something could rise from the ground. A podium perhaps?
“Doctor, I’m sensing some electronic readings from that spot heading to your left. Is there a panel there?”
I turned my head, seeing a panel meshed into the wall an exact replica of the one used to open the door, “Indeed.”
It had the same ridged buttons before, the exact same, just placed in a different order of four by five rows. Now came the question, was the code the same for the door as it was here, or was this something different entirely? I didn’t think anyone here wanted to spend another five hours running tests, especially with those corpses still a premonition to this room. We didn’t have five hours at our leisure, and I was half eager to leave as well.
A hot shower sounded like such a good luxury right now.
I pressed the same sequence as the one that opened the door, hearing another soft click. I couldn’t help but smirk with satisfaction. That indent in the floor opened up, an orb shaped machine rising before immediately flashing images rapidly across the blank wall. I was right. This was some sort of room to project knowledge.
But knowledge of…what?
The images were predominantly white with speckles of black. They flashed every five seconds to a new image. With how rapid it was, it wasn’t allowing me to even begin to analyze whatever these symbols were before jumping to the next one. I came here expecting things like…books, art, any sort of literature. So far, all I had was verbal linguistics and now odd black and white images. This was absolutely nothing like my previous studies.
If anything, it seemed so…nonhuman.
“Any idea what it means?” Damien asked, his arm brushing against mine. I didn’t even notice him being that close with my eyes plastered to the projections.
“No,” I answered honestly, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It kinda looks like…” Damien hesitated, immediately going into a private comm with me, “Sabbath used to run these inkblot tests. They were meant to judge our emotional intelligence and hesitancy in certain images.”
“Those tests are designed for collecting perceptions on needs, motives, conflicts…feelings. They’re personal, slow, in a more relaxed environment,” I answered, having heard about them before, “This is different. They’re quick, too quick. By the time you come up with a feeling on one image, it immediately changes.”
“Yeah, and this room could seat maybe a hundred…people or whatever sat here before,” Damien added, “which doesn’t make it personal.”
“I’ll keep your inkblot theory as a thought,” I sighed.
“Doctor Deveraux, I have an electronic technician on the line,” David chimed in.
“Go ahead,” I answered.
“That projector model looks very similar to an early concept of the D120-S stationary projector used maybe…a couple centuries ago by District One,” a soft voice spoke over the scratchy radio, “this is a very weird similarity, but it’s possible that underneath that orb there’s a port.”
“And if there’s a port…”
“Then there’s a chance to download this data,” she finished my thoughts for me. Good. Great, actually.
I slowly walked over to it, seeing the platform the projector set base on a good three feet dipped from the main floor. I crawled under, ignoring the flashing lights of irritation before letting my fingers prod and poke around. It all felt smooth, until there was a slight, almost miniscule indent.
“I think I found one,” I answered excitedly, laying on my backside before digging through my tool kit for a cord extension. Even if their technology was dated, or rather ours were advanced, the cord should automatically adjust to the port, if it was meant for connection. Sure enough, it formed to the small mirco-slot, slipping in beautifully.
I connected my datapad to the other end of the cable, immediately seeing it detect a flurry of information.
Download data?
“Yes please,” I answered myself, hitting yes before seeing the size of the file trying to compress. Shit. This might take some time, which we still had.
Or, so I thought.
“Sir, probe just picked up a lifeform on the west tunnel, half a mile down,” Regina immediately ran to Damien, showing him the red dot standing still.
“Can you switch to the probes camera mode?” he asked, seeing her do so. Black. Pitch black. Even if this thing was moving, it wasn’t possible to see any inch of movement with how dark this was.
“Shit, there’s more appearing,” Regina noted with fear in her voice.
“Everyone, west tunnel now, safety off and ready to fire,” Damien ordered, seeing concern and hesitancy before everyone moved to set up their ammunitions and firearms to point that way.
Despite all the movement of agents, I almost felt oblivious to it. That is, until Damien poked his helmet underneath the projector to see what I was doing.
“Hey, pack up, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he demanded.
“It’s downloading,” I pointed the tablet towards him.
“We can do that another time. We’ve got movement from the west and I don’t think they’re friendly,” he insisted with urgency, grabbing my arm.
“Jack, if you disconnect now we might lose that data,” David pointed out.
“Damien, I’m not leaving without this data,” I told him, immediately shrugging my arm away from his grip.
A shot rang out from the group, the laser highlighting the darkness with a blue hue. Then another shot, followed by another.
“ANATHEMAS!” Grimes shouted, all the agents firing their weapons down that hall.
“Let’s fucking go!” Damien grabbed my arm again harshly, about to drag me out of that hole.
“Damien, stop!” I barked at him, “Give me time, it’s halfway complete.”
“We don’t have time!”
Snarls and screams were heard. One anathema breached the defense with a leap, placing itself between Damien and his men. Yet, Damien was quick to meet it head on, slicing across the upside down head across the neck. The anathema screamed in pain before choking on its own blood.
Fuck. I really didn’t have a lot of time.
Regina who remained near me took off at the sight, heading all the way down the South tunnel where we came from. I couldn’t blame her. But that action alone started a chain of events that fear was known for instigating. Owen had noticed her taking off and immediately left his post.
“Fuck this shit,” he cursed, running soon after her. The rest began to follow suit, despite commands, leaving Damien and Grimes to slowly back away from the tunnel still firing their weapons.
“Jacqueline!” Damien turned to me once more, as if insisting this was the final call. He was leaving too, and I could either go with him, or take this risk.
“It’s almost done, just go to the door! You know how to close it, I’ll meet you there,” I stated, glaring back at the download. It was nearly there, almost complete. I might not know how to fight, but I could run. Damien and Grime’s rapid fire was buying me time.
I need this data. I needed it. If I don't get it now, it could become corrupted or I might not get a chance like this again. If I wanted answers, these were the risks I had to take.
One anathema charged at Damien, causing him to dive to the side with a quick dodge. His red laser sword hummed and scorched with each swing, the screams from the anathemas only increasing. Gods, it sounded like there were ten or more, all preparing to breach this room.
“Hurry up!” Damien scowled, seeing Grimes head towards the door. And when he did, he noticed it beginning to shut.
“Damien, it’s closing now!” Grimes shouted, extending his hand to his superior, “Come on!”
Almost there. I was almost there. Ninety. Ninety-five. Ninety-six.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement on the ceiling. An anathema crawled all the way up there, seeing my leg stick out from the awkward position I was laying in. I remained still, seeing the download had completed at one hundred. Slowly, I pulled the cord, beginning to tuck my datapad away.
The knife attached to my thigh clanged with the metal upon the slight movement, making a noise above the silence. And that was all the anathema needed to attack. I immediately pulled my feet in, cramped in this indent of the floor as the anathema thrashed above. Its jaws chomped loudly, snapping and eagerly wanting to make any contact with me it could.
“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck!” I cursed, my hand moving to unsheath my laser sword. I had to angle my elbow just right to do so, and then I felt it. A sharp pain met my forearm, feeling punctures to the muscles and bones.
More shots rang out before I saw red. I thought it was my own blood at first blinding my eyes, but it was the glow of a ruby, heating and imploding the anathema from the inside. Damien yanked his sword away from its neck and upper torso, black blood splattering all over me. With a final shriek, it froze and slithered into this small space with me. Its blood began to pool, soaking the fibers of my armor, stinging the wound on my arm, its weight heavy on top of me.
When I pulled my arm out, my heart stopped at the sight of it.
It bit me. It fucking bit me.