The corridor was lit adequately and seemed endlessly long. Simon could feel the soldier’s eyes, following them.
Ten feet into the tunnel, off to the left, Max noticed a locking mechanism. I wonder if this is to the exterior door, he thought. Looks like it can be controlled remotely.
He had been trained his entire life to study his surroundings with photographic detail; that training had saved his life many times. This time would be no different.
Twenty steps into the tunnel, the audio enhancement unit in Simon’s headgear twittered to life, picking up a fragment of conversation from somewhere down the corridor. He heard it clearly and without mistake.
It chilled his spine and almost stopped him in his tracks.
“So, Oliver,” said the deep, authoritative voice. “It’s been too long.”
The words were both horrific and hopeful to Simon’s ears. Max heard them as well and turned instantly, realizing that his best friend would not have the patience to calculate their next move alone.
If he acts on impulse, Max thought, he’ll get us killed.
Simon had been holding onto the rifle with both hands. Max turned to him, drew his attention, and held up two fingers close together. Then he separated them into a “V.”
Simon recognized the signal instantly. It was one they had used in their childhood games.
Why split up? he asked himself. Then he looked down the corridor, as Max already had. Thirty feet ahead, the passageway forked off-continuing straight on and offering a ninety-degree turn to the right. Even before they reached the adjacent passage, they could already sense the ambient light that flowed into their path, coming from that next hallway. They slowed down and carefully looked to their right.
Off in the distance, they spotted an open door. They heard the voices coming from inside, and they saw a huge soldier standing at the opening looking straight inside, not noticing them.
They both took a few steps back, reacting to the situation.
Max knew what his next move would be. He looked up at the hanging ceiling embedded in the ice. It carried an intricate web of cables and equipment mounted below and above the ceiling, a dark open grid.
Both men were in sync. Max immediately pressed his rifle into the side of his suit and jumped upward. He grabbed the steel ceiling and pulled himself into the grid like a spider trying to escape. Simon followed, but before he had pulled his entire body through the network of cables, he felt something detach from his suit. He craned his neck and looked down, just in time to see his rifle fall to the floor with a deafening clatter.
Fuck, he cursed silently, clenching his jaw in anger. We’re discovered. It’s over.
For one long moment, both of them looked down through the ceiling grid at the rifle lying directly in the middle of the hallway, clearly visible on the perforated floor. And they both heard a new and impatient voice from further down the hallway.
“What’s going on back there?” one of the men in Blackburn’s team called out.
They heard footsteps; he was coming in their direction. Max knew they needed to move fast. The tight shaft of the ceiling was barely wide enough for one man to crawl through, much less two. And Simon noticed Max’s hand gesture once again, signaling them to split up, to separate.
Simon wasted no time. He crawled through the adjacent hallway ceiling and in less than twenty seconds, three feet below him, he noticed the soldier’s body pass in the opposite direction.
Max had already disappeared deeper into the main hallway ceiling, now trying carefully and quietly to open one of the airshafts. Simon had passed three feet into the side hallway that led to the open door when he heard the voice again.
“What the fuck is this?”
He noticed it, he thought. The man had spotted the rifle.
But I have to keep going.
It was almost as if he felt no fear, no anxiety. He didn’t care. He knew he was less than thirty yards from the door they had spotted.
“What’s up?” said one of the men in the room, shouting back at the man in the hallway.
“You’ve got to take a look at this,” the other voice said.
Seconds later, Simon stiffened as another man passed below him. For a brief moment, he wondered where Max was-if he could see what was happening. But then, just then, the amplified authoritative sound of the man speaking in the room resonated through the hallway and buzzed directly into his ears through his helmet.
“You’ve been more stubborn than anyone we’ve had down here since the beginning of the operation,” the man said. The voice cut through him like a knife.
“Lucky for you, your fucking ‘society’ knows more about what’s going on down here than I do. Otherwise you would have been utterly useless to us a long time ago.”
Holding his body absolutely still, using all his strength, Simon did nothing but listen-more intently, with more concentration than he ever had in his life. He wanted to push himself twenty more yards into the tight shaft, but he didn’t move. He froze. He waited. He listened.
“Look at this!” the man said. “Look at this gun above your head!”
Simon’s body went cold. He had to move. Adrenaline and fear of what would happen next moved his body forward as Blackburn continued.
“Don’t you see it, you pompous son of a bitch? Don’t you know I have no remorse for you, no compassion, not even concern? My men are coming up the shaft with third degree burns and toxic poisoning, as if they were working in a fucking nuclear power plant. Why should I care about you? Now look into the gun! Look! I won’t repeat myself.”
Simon was moving forward-slowly, slowly. Less than two feet, he told himself. Less than two feet before I can see inside. His body trembled from the vicious anger that threatened to take control of him. It was a rage he never thought he possessed. And still, he listened as he inched forward.
“These are your last moments Oliver,” Blackburn said. “This is your last chance. I can leave you to rot in your own hell, or I can put you out of your own fucking misery with a single bullet. Look at me! You have less than ten seconds. Tell me how to turn off these godforsaken devices. Tell me who I need to find, tell me who gave this knowledge to your pathetic society.”
Simon listened both horrified and confused. Twelve more inches.
“Who put them here?” Blackburn said. “What are they for you, you son of a bitch?”
Simon crawled the last few inches. His head turned toward the room, and he saw the ominous figure of the tall man holding a rifle against the head of a person lying in a hospital bed. He watched as the tall man pressed the rifle into the burned flesh of the sick old man’s head, and the old man closed his eyes, ready to accept the bullet that would enter his skull and take his life.
Simon’s world collapsed. His heart sank as if they had put a hundred knives into his chest. Blackburn’s large image moved to the left, pressing the pistol so hard into Oliver’s head that it made a fleshy crater.
At that very instant Simon saw his father. He saw Oliver’s face through the ceiling grates, and he recognized the expression on his face.
He’s thinking of me, Simon thought. He was sure of it: he’s thinking of me.
Simon’s body froze instantly. He felt completely hollow, as if life itself had been stolen from him.
For a split second, emotion swelled and took over every inch of his body. Simon could not move; he didn’t understand why. He desperately wanted to have a weapon, any weapon. He knew if he jumped down now, unarmed, the tall man would kill them both. Nothing would be accomplished.
He froze once more as Blackburn’s voice spoke again.
“Ten seconds before I pull the fucking trigger!” Blackburn said. “Ten seconds and your hell is over.”