Slowly moving across the helipad, Al hugged the mountain rock and the fake rock of the hangar doors. Eyes and ears on high alert, he stopped at the doorway the Afghanis had used while Tom hung back in case of trouble. The pseudo-rock wall impressed him. Hangar and personnel doors, even the doorknob, blended seamlessly with the natural rock around them. The material looked rough and weathered but was anything but rock.
With one hand on the knob, he looked back, Tom gave him a thumbs up. The door was surprisingly light and quickly swung out, causing him to push it closed. Light streamed out the crack between the door and frame. The brightness inside the room made him blink multiple times to adjust to the overhead lights. Spaced out across the rock ceiling, fluorescent lights lit the entire chamber. The walls were of the same hollowed-out rock that composed the mountain. Splashes of various colors were spread out across the light grey-painted walls. They indicated different facility stations, fuel, maintenance, and so on.
Leaning back, Al whispered, “Pretty normal-looking hangar, nothing out of the ordinary. Except for the part that it's clandestinely built into a mountain.”
Tom nodded and scanned around the helipad. No one was likely to approach them, but better safe than sorry.
As Al peered through the crack in the doorway, he gained a deeper appreciation for the builders. What he saw was just as impressive, if not more so, than many of the military hangars he had been inside.
In the center of the floor sat a spacious, high-end helicopter with four rotor blades pulled back and attached to the tail boom. The massive bird was supported by four wheels, two in front and two in the rear. The area was large enough to accommodate two of these costly helicopters, with extra space available. To his right, what looked like a freight elevator stood idle. Nearby were several yellow wagons used to offload supplies and equipment. On the back wall were apparatuses and vehicles used to maintain, move, and fuel the helicopter. Opposite him was an elevated, small, empty control room. To the left was a stairway leading down.
Al closed the door. His eyes, now accustomed to the bright light, saw only deep hues of darkness on the pad.
“It’s like daylight in there. I didn’t see anyone moving around.” He paused and reran everything he’d seen inside. “No, no one's in the hangar.” No one needed to be there since the aircraft was idle. “There’s a stairway about 75 feet to the left. Let’s break for that, get down a couple of stairs, and go from there.
Tom nodded, lifted his hand, and chopped toward the door.
Covered in sweat and dirt from the night climb, Al pulled off his man dress. It wasn't going to fool anyone. As soon as the door opened, he jogged across the hangar and went to the stairwell. Tom followed ten feet behind him. A sizable colored diagram was on the wall next to the stairs. They didn’t pause to look. Slowing his pace, he took the first six stairs at a rate that he could aim accurate fire if needed. The stairs ended on a landing that required a 180-degree turn, descending another set of six stairs to the next level.
“Stop on the landing,” Tom said from above. “Sneak a look down the next set of six stairs.”
“There’s a hallway at the bottom. It’s wide. I suspect there's another stairwell below us. I don’t see or hear anyone.”
Tom led. “Let’s take a look.”
At the next level, the brown industrial carpet covered the hallway floor. It served to reduce the sound of their footsteps. The walls were made of granite and covered with white painted sheetrock. The entire hallway was well-lit with long fluorescent lights. At the end of the hallway, they spotted an elevator. Although several doors were on each side of the hallway, no people were around.
Al grunted with satisfaction. “Look at this.”
Tom wheeled around.
"Nice, huh?”
A diagram of the facility was on the wall between the stairway they had come down and another stairway down. They'd snuck into a place with a map to help visitors and staff find their way. That would help for sure. The large sign showed a cutaway of ten levels of the facility. It included the hangar above and a basement below the tunnel entrance level. Assigned to each level and room was a color/number code matched to a legend in the bottom left corner. At first, he wasn’t sure it made sense, but he’d been in plenty of military facilities with wall diagrams to help its personnel navigate a complex. Whoever built this place had to deal with semiliterate soldiers who quickly needed to find and access some levels and not others.
Al rested his fingertip on the second lowest level. “This looks like the tunnel on the valley floor. Could be a good place to go if we have to shoot our way out.”
Tom pointed to level five. “This floor also has a tunnel. But, this I find a little disconcerting.” His finger indicated a black-bordered burnt orange triangle. At its center was a black circle with three overlapping crescents that met an orange dot at its center.
“A biohazard symbol?” Al said.
The written script in the legend identified the purpose each level held. It wasn’t helpful to either of them; it was written in a language they couldn’t read. Several red triangles were outlined on various levels. They had white interiors and a black exclamation point. They were warning signs emphasizing danger areas. The fuel point in the hangar was one of those areas.
Al put his finger on the biohazard symbol. “What’s that doing here?”
Tom shrugged. “Looks like shit just got real.”
Examining the diagram cutaway, they established that level five was twice as large as all the other levels, excluding the tunnel level. This level was comprised of four small rooms and four large rooms, which were significantly more extensive than the first four.
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At the tunnel level, a road/tunnel went through the mountain from one side to the other. On either side of the shaft were spacious cavernous rooms with large industrial openings leading into the tunnel. The purpose of these rooms was not indicated in the diagram.
Not understanding the legend or any other words on the diagram was a pain in the ass. Al focused on level five again. They were flying blind. If they weren't careful, they'd stumble around until they ran into someone. Or someone ran into them. And they knew it. But what else was there?
“I say we go down there.” Tom pointed to level five. “See what's up. Whatever it is, it ain’t going to be good.”
“Agreed.” Al scanned the diagram one more time. “I’d like to know where everyone is?”
“Trying to find Mike and Julia. I don’t know, but we’ll try to stay out of sight as much as possible.”
“And if we get seen?”
“We’ll remain silent for as long as possible.” Tom patted the sheath knife riding on his hip. “If that doesn’t work, I guess it’s on. Maybe that will take some of the pressure off Mike.”
Tom led down the next set of stairs. He stopped at the landing to look around the corner. Nothing to see but a copy of the same floor plan as the level above. He took his time, one slow step at a time, and his eyes kept a wary lookout. His rifle butt rested on his shoulder, the barrel tracking, and his eyes searching for a target.
Rifle pointed up and to the rear. Al kept guard behind and kept Tom in sight.
Sweat dripped down Al’s face into his eyes. He wiped it with his left hand, keeping his right near the trigger.
They both felt it. It was like walking on pins and needles amplified by a thousand. They were deep in an enemy base. His shoulders and back felt like a wound-up spool, and a dull ache, along with everything else, pushed into his consciousness. Al tried to relax, but it wasn’t happening. The tension of what they were doing was taking hold to the extreme.
Tom visually cleared the next level and took point down the next set of stairs.
Advance, clear, advance. It was slow going and added to the stress, but either that or sashay down the stairs and hope for the best.
Al glanced up the stairs they had descended and shook his head in amazement. Despite the lingering ache in his mid back and the sweat dripping down his face, their progress had been surprisingly straightforward. It was almost unbelievable how far they had come, but neither of them was going to grumble about it.
At the landing between the sixth and fifth level, Tom held his hand out, calling a halt. He put two fingers into his eyes and pointed to the next level.
Tom leaned into Al. “There’s an open room with a metal door on the opposite side, a green light over the door. There’s a guard there. He looks like he’s sleeping standing up.” He crouched and looked again. “I’ll take care of it. You watch the stairs.”
Rifle pointed up the stairway. Al nodded.
AK gently placed on the landing. Tom drew his knife and moved with patient care down the stairs. On the third step, the guard inhaled deeply through his nose and lifted his head. His mouth opened in a giant yawn, and he opened his eyes. Stunned at seeing someone, anyone at that time of night, let alone a sizable blond man he’d never seen before, he didn’t move for a fateful second even as the big man threw his knife at him.
The guard flinched his head to the side. The butt of the knife struck his shoulder. It was all the distraction he needed. Tom bounded down the stairs and made two long steps forward. The Afghani fumbled with the rifle on his shoulder, then two hands, palms stretched out, rammed into the guard's face, smashing the back of his head into the wall. Senseless, the guard tried to lift his hands to defend himself. Rough hands grabbed the guard’s hair and beard, pulled the man’s head down then drove his skull into the wall twice more. The limp body slid down the wall. He was either dead or unconscious. There was no blood on the wall. The guard's hat had taken care of that.
Second AK in hand, Al hopped down the steps. It was quiet, but he turned and faced the stairs anyway. The fight hadn’t produced much more than a few grunts and muffled impacts on the wall.
The metal door next to the slumped guard had an oversized latch handle to pull the door open. Tom grabbed it, opened the door a crack, and looked inside.
“Clear.” Tom swung the door wide and pulled the guard in. He dropped the Afghani on the floor to the side as he crossed the threshold. Al followed, closed the door, and handed Tom his AK.
There was a row of three grey metal framed fold-up chairs against the wall to the left and right of the doorway. The wall in front of them was glass from the ceiling to halfway to the floor. On the other side of the window, there were two side-by-side rooms. The two rooms were themselves separated by an entire glass wall. Built into the glass wall was an airtight, sealed glass cubicle large enough to hold two fully-clad adults.
Al glanced at Tom, then set his sight on the contents of the rooms.
The room to their left was a clean room. Long metal sinks and hazardous materials waste cans were on one side of the room. Doorless lockers rested against another wall. The cabinets contained protective wear to protect workers from bio exposure. The last locker held plastic full-body suits and air tanks.
The room to their right was a decontamination room. Inside the room were showers, scrub stations, more showers, and a waste chute attached to the wall. A laboratory technician who entered or exited this room to or from the labs beyond passed through another airtight door. That door opened into an area big enough for one person. This small space had a large shower head and a drain below. This room was the first line of defense for technicians who exited one of the labs on the other side of the decontamination room.
Portions of the walls were made of glass through which they could see one of the laboratories. The lab was far larger than the first two rooms. A glass wall separated the lab from another room. Inside were cages of monkeys and other animals. Doors led to other rooms, but they couldn’t see where they led.
Al breathed out a slow whistle. “Fuck.”
“What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?” Tom glanced at Al and back into the lab.
Rubbing the stubble under his hat, Al didn’t respond, his eyes searching the inside of the labs.
Tom looked back at the door they’d come through. “Hmm.”
“Now what?”
Tom’s lips twitched in a slight grimace. “We haven’t got a radio or sat phone to report this. We can’t contact Mike. The I-com is on the side of the mountain somewhere. We don’t have any demo to destroy this place. And I’m not sure our bullets will penetrate the glass. And if they did, I sure as shit don’t want to die from whatever pathogen might escape.”
This was way outside of either of their wheelhouses. Al’s career had branched off from Tom’s some years ago. He'd gone to more intel-related work. But there was one thing he did know. The most the two of them knew about NBC was next to nil. The main thing he remembered of Nuclear, Biological, and Chemical training was going to the gas chamber. They would walk in with their gas mask on to ensure they had a good seal, then be ordered to take them off and stand there trying not to breathe in the CS gas. He held his breath, waiting until a few of the unlucky ones did breathe and then walking out in an orderly line. Good times. Memories of sweat and snot rolling down his face, the skin burning as he tried to get the hell out.
“Besides up shit creek, what does that leave us?” Al said.
“Somehow, get back and report whatever this is.”
“Mike and Julia?”
Tom took a deep breath. “We’ll do everything we can to find them, but…”
“Yeah.” Tom lifted his eyebrows in an I don’t know gesture. “Mission first, and the mission has changed.”
“It’s two-thirty,” Tom said. “I doubt any lab staff will be here for at least a few hours. I don’t feel like dragging this guy around looking for a place to stash him. I say, let’s leave him here.”
Al nodded and stepped over the dead man. “Agreed. Let’s look at the map to see if we can figure out where they keep the technicians, doctors, and prisoners. We’ll need more info to take back if we can.”
“Sounds like,” Tom said, “a good way to get caught, but yeah.”