Phantom Frost

by Alfred Wurr

  “Doesn’t sound good. Guess I’d be annihilated, right?”

  “Nothing so severe. However, your final arrival point in such cases is indeterminate.”

  I turned my head to squint at him. “What does that mean?”

  “You will rematerialize at a random unoccupied location,” Hue said.

  “Okay, but I’ll still be close by, right?” I said, looking back at the screen. “What’s the concern?”

  “Probabilistically speaking, yes,” Hue said. “However, that is not guaranteed. You may also arrive a hundred miles away, four thousand feet above the earth, or at some other undesirable position. The likelihood of any given location becoming your alternate arrival point declines the farther away that point is from your desired landing zone, but improbable things do occur on occasion. The worse the attempted arrival location, the greater the probability of a severe, catastrophic correction.”

  “Why does going underground matter?” I asked.

  “Energy and matter in this reality have a presence and effect in the Underfrost,” Hue said. “Temperature variations along the route of travel, as well as the density of the matter and energy through which you travel, can have unpredictable side effects.”

  I stroked my chin, staring into space. “All right, I get it.” I paused, thinking. “I’ll have to take that chance. Getting there from ground level has to be at least as dangerous.” I leaned my hands on the edge of the stone fountain and looked at my reflection in the water within. “How do I operate this thing?”

  “It is simple,” Hue said. “Now that you have chosen a destination, you just need to activate the tholos by dropping frost into the fountain before you. Snow will rise from the platform on which you stand. When it does, submerge yourself, and you will be propelled through the Underfrost to your destination.”

  “What will it be like?”

  “I do not know,” Hue said. “But you have done this many times before and never voiced any complaints about the experience.”

  “Well, I’d better get going, then,” I said, producing a frost ball. “Thanks, Hue. I hope we meet again.”

  “As do I, Sentinel.”

  Without further discussion, I dropped the frost into the liquid of the fountain before me. Immediately upon contact with the water, snow welled up from beneath my feet, lifting me up. I sank into the snow and, moments later, was on my way. There was no sensation of motion as the snowball passed through the floor of the tholos, exited through its ceiling, and shot out of the Allfrost Transporter into the Underfrost, an icy missile, headed for the continent.

  Time passed like a dream before I popped up from the snowball and gaped at my surroundings; I’d returned to the Bodhi Institute, albeit to a part of it that I’d never been to before. Less than a week had passed since I’d escaped through a side door of the surface-level building, but it seemed more like a month.

  My chosen destination—the archival vault—was still deserted. It was still early enough to be called late, but the circular door that sealed the vault like a massive metal plug, eighteen inches thick, stood wide open. Beyond its bulk, a wall of metal bars provided a first line of defense.

  It must be open for early risers getting a jump on the day or night owls pulling an all-nighter, I thought. Too slow to open and close every time someone comes and goes. Which means someone might show up at any moment. I need to hurry.

  Nearby, an array of freezers and refrigerated cabinets sat next to each other in rows, like bookshelves in a library. I strode up and down the aisles, reading labels on the doors and shelves and containers within. I grimaced. To my dismay, many were marked with codes rather than plain English labels.

  I pulled open the doors. Not locked, I thought. Guess they figure if you made it this far, you must be authorized. Glad of that at least, I started searching.

  The first few contained test tubes of blood samples and other substances that I couldn’t identify. I returned one to the shelf as the metal gate through the outer bars slid aside behind me, a hundred feet away. I ducked low and gently closed the glass door that I’d just opened, with an audible but muted sucking sound as the rubber liner resealed itself. Two sets of footsteps entered the room, their owners engaged in amiable conversation. I scuttled to the end of the aisle as the footfalls neared.

  “I don’t know,” said a woman’s voice as she slid open a drawer. “Marcus has been pushing the whole team for results. I don’t have time to date anyone.”

  “You’ve got to eat sometime,” said the second woman in a higher, louder voice. A freezer door opened with a pop, followed by the clink of bottles being rearranged. “We’ll be there to break the ice.” Several seconds of silence followed, then the same speaker said, “Come on, he’s really cute.”

  “So was the last guy,” said the other woman. I held my breath as they moved closer still. “And he knew it. He spent the entire dinner talking about himself and his work.”

  “It’s not like you can talk about your secret research in an underground facility,” said her companion. “Hey, what’s this water doing here?”

  “What water?”

  “The floor’s wet here,” said the other woman.

  My palm sparkled as I reached for frost.

  “Oh, yeah. Condensation, maybe?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so. I’ll let maintenance know.”

  Another glass door opened, more bottles moved about, then the door slammed shut. I expelled the lungful of air that I’d been holding and sighed, hearing their footsteps growing fainter. I peeked around the corner and watched as they exited the room, still chatting.

  I counted to five, then crept back along the cabinets, picking up where I’d left off. Got to be systematic.

  I found what I was looking for two rows over. A tray of test tubes, glowing colourfully like radioactive sherbet, rested on the middle shelf. I grabbed a bottle. The label read “WB-19790605-HX0012.” Beneath the serial number, it read “Rorubium 0.03%, Polarium, 0.026%,” written with black marker in someone’s careful hand. Like the other potions, the contents fluoresced as I held it in my hand, reacting to me in some way.

  Should I drink them now? I wondered. I shook my head. No, better not. The last two knocked me for a loop. Got to get out of here first.

  I slapped my hands over my ears and dropped the bottle as an alarm blared to life. I stooped to grab the test tube as it fell, but it hit the concrete floor and shattered, spilling its contents across the floor like blood from a wound, but thicker and more viscous; it oozed wider in slow motion, rather than running wild like water.

  Fuck a dirty duck, I mouthed silently. Having no hair to tear out, I banged my fists against my temples instead.

  Red lights flashed in the hallway beyond the vault door, and it began to swing shut. They know I’m here, I thought. The researchers must have seen me and played it cool.

  I didn’t have time to wonder. I had to move. I dropped flat, put my mouth to the cold concrete and sucked up the broken vial’s spilled contents, along with a lot of the glass shards.

  I hope they keep these floors clean, I thought, spitting out fragments of glass.

  I hopped to my feet, wiped my mouth, pulled my hat from my head, and started shovelling the other bottles into it.

  I squinted one eye and put a hand over my mouth. Is that stuff hitting me already?

  Dropping the last one into my cap, I plunked it on my head and raced for the vault door.

  Only a three-foot gap remained. Not enough. I sprinted full bore toward it, cursing my luck.

  I’m done. I walked right into their hands.

  I rammed the door, throwing all my weight against it. My feet slid on the smooth concrete floor, and the door continued to swing closed, albeit slower than before. I sidestepped as the gap narrowed and channelled snow and ice into the breach, spreading it a few feet into the vault and out the door to the other side, then submerged into it and swam. Popping out the other side, I leaned against the wall, panting and wide-eyed. The va
ult door sealed itself a few seconds later, compressing and displacing the snow before steel bars locked it into place.

  Got to keep moving. Bodhi Group security must be on their way.

  I staggered for the outer gate, then rubbed my temples, snarling as a sharp pain stabbed through my head. I stumbled a few feet from the outer cage bars, reaching out to grab them before I could fall, pressing my face against the cool metal.

  That’s potent stuff, I thought.

  I pulled the unlocked gate aside and smiled through the pain, thankful getting out didn’t require a pass card. I lurched through it, stooped over, then fell onto my hands a few steps later, jarring my wrists, and passed out.

  Chapter 28

  Emergency Exit

  The alarm still rang when I woke. I pulled myself to my feet and teetered down the hall.

  Dixon’s team must be losing a step, I thought. They should be here by now.

  As I ran, memories of Wilhelm and Olivia bubbled to the forefront of my thoughts, except that I thought of them by different names. Their real names, I realized; Boreas and Orithyia.

  Orithyia wore a leather skirt and top that exposed a flat, muscular stomach and strong arms and legs. She held an ornately carved staff at her side that rose a foot past her head. Boreas looked as he had when battling fire elementals over the pool in his backyard—an eight-foot tall armoured green spectre held together by flows of air, light and unknown forces.

  The stone walls of a castle keep surrounded us.

  “Why won’t they listen?” I asked, shaking my head.

  Boreas’s voice boomed, echoing against the stone of the hall. “We create. We watch. We manipulate. They’re addicted to it. They won’t give it up easily.”

  The scene changed to another part of the same castle—the interior of one of the massive towers that stood sentry at each corner of the large fortress; information that I knew intuitively in my waking dream state. Torches high on the walls lit the cylindrical room, leaving much of the area in shadow.

  From the edge of the space, a humanoid thing of flesh, bone and sinew stared daggers at Boreas and me with an eyeless face. Its two arms ended in long fingers that sported vicious claws resembling the talons of a bird of prey.

  “What is that thing?” I asked, making a face.

  “Thing?” Boreas said, sounding offended. “Ouch, you wound me, Shivurrous. This is something I’ve been working on for a while. To help in the fight.”

  “Why does it look like that?”

  He shrugged. “It’s unfinished—a work in progress.”

  The patter of footsteps washed the vision away, forcing my mind back to the present.

  Focus, Shivurr, I thought. Take a walk down memory lane when you’re not behind enemy lines.

  Back in the present, I huddled against the wall and moved ahead to a turn in the hallway and peered around the corner. Bodhi Group security forces, armed to the teeth, stood waiting by a bank of elevators. The doors of one dinged open a few seconds later. Seven men jumped on, and the doors closed.

  I stepped from my hiding spot and approached. Numbers over the doors showed the lift rising rapidly toward the surface. I crashed through the doors to the left of the elevators, setting off an alarm, but the buzzing stopped as the spring-loaded door slammed shut and I bounded up the stairs.

  No one’s going to be coming to check it anytime soon. At least that’s what I told myself.

  Large numbers painted on the doors, three feet high, marked each level as I ran past, huffing and puffing. I winced, remembering that the archival vault was fifteen floors below ground and my friends were trapped on the second aboveground floor.

  At subfloor five, I stopped, holding the railing for support. I tried to slow my breathing, listening for sounds of pursuit, and heard nothing but the still-ringing alarm. I resumed my ascent, continuing past ground level until I reached the second-floor exit. Unlike on the subterranean floors, this level’s door did not appear to have an alarm.

  Cracking it open a sliver, I peered out into the hallway. To the right, a hallway ran deeper into the facility. Ten feet to the left lay the balcony that I’d seen through the Oculus. I knew from my explorations that it overlooked the first-floor foyer and ran north toward the conference rooms and my friends. Seeing no one about, I slipped out the door and used my hand to inch it closed with a dull click.

  “Attention, all non-security personnel, the facility is under attack. Proceed to your quarters or designated panic rooms and lock the doors until the situation is resolved. Security forces are working to resolve the situation as we speak,” said a man’s voice over a nearby loudspeaker. I know that voice, I realized. It’s Bodhi Institute Executive Director Wallace.

  I crept to the balcony’s edge and looked down. A security force member stood by the wall, speaking into a red phone while two others wrestled with a fire hose pulled from a nearby cabinet and looked apprehensively toward the building’s entrance and the sounds of gunfire beyond.

  I crouched and hugged the far wall. Keeping back from the edge, out of their sight, I tiptoed along the balcony, heading for the conference rooms.

  The phone clattered as the soldier returned it to the hook and shouted to the others. “Reinforcements are twenty minutes away. We’ve got to hold out until then.”

  A blond soldier with short hair glanced to the north. “What about the parking garage?”

  “Don’t sweat it. That’s Jimenez and his team’s problem.”

  “But why are they here?” asked a short soldier with curly black hair.

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” spat the first. “They’re here for the others. Use your head.”

  “Didn’t think they were that smart,” a soldier muttered as I moved out of earshot.

  I left the balcony on the other side, entering a hallway of glass. Conference rooms lined both sides. I raced down the hallway to the room where I’d last seen my friends and swore under my breath. They were nowhere to be seen. They’d been taken—relocated when the attack had started, no doubt.

  I turned to retreat and stopped, spotting them huddled under the conference table, looking at me with wide eyes and pale, drawn faces.

  My eyes locked with Lucy’s. She stared a moment, then a smile spread across her face. Her lips moved and the others turned to regard me as well. I smiled in return and waved, pointing to the door. I ran to it and gave it a push. The door refused to budge. Oh, well, it was worth a shot.

  I scanned the hallway, looking for other options. I flinched, throwing my hands up as the conference room door thumped loudly and an office chair crashed to the floor on the far side. The glass door appeared unscathed by the assault. Alan grabbed his makeshift battering ram as it settled against the floor, raising it high. I waved my hands like a base umpire signalling a runner as safe and shook my head. The teen cocked an eyebrow but lowered his arms.

  I held up a finger on my right hand, then placed my left hand on the door, splaying my fingers wide. Taking a deep breath, I channeled cold into the glass. The door frosted over in seconds, making faint cracking sounds as it contracted and grew brittle. Wisps of vapour floated across the surface as the intense cold interacted with the warmer air of the hallway.

  I continued to pour cold into it and watched the ice spread beyond the door’s edge to the larger windows at either side. Hearing the glass crunch and crack, I reached back, clenched my hand into a fist and hammered the door. The glass spiderwebbed but failed to shatter.

  I shook my hand and flexed my fingers, checking that everything still worked, as Alan waved me to the side and raised the chair. I stepped back, rubbing away the pain in my knuckles, as he smashed the chair’s base into the weakened door sending pieces of glass and ice to the carpet at my feet. I grinned and pumped my fist.

  Alan used the chair to clear the opening, knocking the remaining debris out of the way. Lilith burst through a second later and wrapped her arms around my neck. The others soon followed, patting me on the back and shaking my uni
njured hand.

  “I knew you’d come for us,” Lilith said, beaming.

  “What’s going on, Shivurr?” Brad asked. He pointed to a ringing alarm bell. “Is that because of you?”

  I shook my head.

  “Is Caleb okay?” Alan asked.

  “Yeah, he’s safe,” I said. “Worried about you all, but totally safe.”

  Lucy grabbed my hand, studying it. “How’s your hand? Does it hurt?” I nodded and she rubbed it lightly. It felt good. In a weird way, the warmth of her grip was soothing. “I wasn’t sure you felt pain like we do.”

  “That’d be awesome,” I said with a crooked smile, “but no such luck.”

  “Better put some ice on it,” Alan said with a wink.

  “Right,” I said, snorting. “That’ll work actually.” I looked at Brad. “They don’t know I’m here. They’re under attack. By what I’m not sure.”

  “What’s the plan?” Brad asked.

  “We escape the same way I did before,” I said. “There’s an emergency exit. Scott disabled the cameras watching it.”

  “How do you know they’re still disabled?” Lucy asked. “You’ve been gone for days now.”

  I shrugged. “There’s not much choice. They’ve got better things to do than watch that camera right now, I’m guessing.”

  Brad was shaking his head. “Maybe, but then what? Where do we go? Back to Las Vegas?”

  “That’s where the van is,” I said. “In the Schmidts’ garage. You’ll need it to get home, back to California, right?”

  Lucy bit her bottom lip. “That’s got to be a hundred miles from here. We can’t walk that far across the desert.” She looked down at her shoes, lifting a foot to display the raised heel. “My feet are killing me already.”

  “What about the parking garage?” Alan said. “It was full of cars when they brought us in. We could hotwire one.”