Amplitude

by Dean M. Cole

  Rourke had been on the verge of despair when he’d finally seen light coming through a hatch at the end of a long corridor. Every door he’d found had been unlocked, just as Vaughn had predicted. Initially, he’d worried that the illuminated hatchway portended a waiting army of the bots, but the light coming through the window set in the door glowed with an unmistakably natural hue. Somehow, daylight was streaming through it.

  When he’d inspected the area beyond, Rourke couldn’t see the ceiling. It appeared to be a large maintenance facility. Heavy equipment and tools lined many of its walls, and a large overhead hoist hung from a beam at its center.

  Rourke had stepped through the door and seen a leaden sky above.

  Presently, he peeked from under the workstation’s overhead cover. He didn’t think the pit had been initially designed to have an open sky as it did now. It looked like the robots had modified the structure.

  Rourke supposed that originally the vertical tube had served as one of the main shafts through which the collider’s builders had lowered equipment into the tunnel. However, there was no way they had left it open to the sky all this time.

  It occurred to him that the top of the shaft formed a pit just like they had seen from Mont Salève when they’d looked down on the other experiments.

  Dragging his eyes away from the steep walls of the vertical shaft, Rourke shook his head. At least there weren’t any of the caterpillar bots here.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Dust mingled with water from the recent rain, leaving muddy puddles at the bottom of the shaft. Leaves had drifted down, coming to rest among the dropped hardware that dotted the floor. Fortunately, the cover that had probably been designed to protect the computer terminal from overhead hazards had also protected it from both falling rain and hardware. The workstation’s computer remained undamaged and still functioned.

  He hadn’t received any network errors, and Angela’s access code still worked as advertised.

  Using her instructions, Rourke had quickly identified the spatial and chronological coordinates for the formation of the first micro black hole. Targeting that MBH, he’d programmed the overload Angela specified and added the interference pattern, engaging her two-tiered approach to resetting the timeline.

  Then Rourke had hit the enter key, and the sequence had started.

  The power had been steadily ramping up ever since.

  He just hoped the scientists at CERN would find the message he’d inserted into the interference pattern. It had better cue them not to repeat the experiment. Rourke had wanted to add more to the message, but Angela wasn’t sure of the bandwidth they’d be able to pump into the interference pattern. It might be so narrow as to only permit an SOS sent via Morse code, or it might be wide enough to allow the passage of a video. However, with an army of robots seeking him out at this very moment, Rourke hadn’t had time to experiment or dig deeper into the code. He could only go with their basic plan: injecting an interference pattern embedded with an SOS in, you guessed it, Morse code.

  Now, hands covering ears, he was just relegated to waiting—a wait that seemed to be taking forever.

  Suddenly, something crashed behind him.

  Rourke spun around, raising his rifle and pointing it towards the now open door.

  A Neck glared back at him from the opening.

  Reflexively, Rourke yanked the trigger. A three-round burst stitched across the doorway. Only the middle bullet found its target. It caught the robot in a glancing blow to its shoulder.

  The Neck looked at its wound and then turned on Rourke. Raising all four arms menacingly, it charged him.

  Stepping backward, Rourke loosed another three-round shot. This time all of the bullets struck the robot center of mass.

  The Neck crumpled to the ground, dead.

  A shadow inched across the floor beside him.

  His shoulders slumped. “Oh, geez…”

  Rourke spun toward the movement but didn’t see anything. Leaning out from underneath the overhang, he glanced upward and caught a horrifying glimpse of at least four of the mechanical caterpillars climbing down the pit’s walls. The sound of their descent was drowned out by the ever-increasing scream of the building overload.

  At the same time, he heard something rising above the screaming collider. The noise sounded as if it were coming from the light fixture above his head. It blared down from above the workstation’s ceiling.

  Looking up, rooted in place, Rourke stared at the lamp.

  He heard the clatter of another Neck arriving behind him, but before he could turn to fire on the new arrival, the light fixture flared blindingly bright.

  Rourke winced and threw a hand up to protect his eyes, but then the light extinguished, plunging him into sudden darkness. Somehow, the riotous noise disappeared with it.

  Disoriented, Rourke stood motionlessly. Flexing his jaw and blinking, he struggled in vain to hear or see something, anything.

  With the sudden disappearance of both light and sound, he felt as if he’d plunged into a sensory deprivation tank.

  Was this the timeline reset?

  Had it worked?

  Was he teleporting back to the past?

  Chapter 35

  Rourke stood motionlessly.

  Wait.

  How was he standing?

  Angela and Vaughn had said they’d felt like they were falling when the reset had sent them back.

  He must still be standing in the pit.

  Finally allowing himself a breath, Rourke pulled in a lungful of air. It burst from him in hacking coughs.

  “Oh geez …! What …? What the hell is that?”

  Somehow, a suffocating, putrid odor had filled the suddenly dark pit.

  Had the storm blown over? Was it robbing the overhead light?

  Rourke nodded. That must be it. The wind must’ve blown in the smell of rot from a nearby structure.

  He coughed and spat as the odor threatened to overwhelm him.

  The floor lurched beneath his feet, nearly sending him sprawling headfirst.

  Rourke turned left and right, struggling to spot a visual cue. Blinking, he realized there was still some light in the work area.

  As the last of the flare’s afterimage faded, he looked up at the lamp.

  It wasn’t there.

  Hell, the ceiling was gone, too.

  Now he could see straight up into the suddenly darkened sky.

  Could the storm clouds block out that much light?

  Still looking up, he realized he could no longer see the sides of the shaft.

  A droning buzz rose to fill the void left in the wake of the suddenly silenced collider.

  Still looking up, Rourke thought he could just make out the edges of the shaft. However, they seemed fluid, moving like dark black clouds surrounding the small patch of sky visible overhead.

  He took a backward step.

  The ground gave beneath his feet.

  Somehow, the rank odor worsened. The fetor wafting up from beneath him became nearly thick enough to see.

  Rourke breathed through his mouth in a futile attempt to save his sinus cavities from the assault.

  The potent stench took root in his very taste buds.

  He choked and spluttered.

  A shredding noise came from his left. He looked over and saw Captain Singleton walking up to him. The lower half of the man’s face lay hidden beneath a strip of cloth, only his eyes visible. A world of sorrow hung in them.

  As Vaughn walked up, he finished tearing the left sleeve from his uniform.

  The man tied the strip of cloth over Rourke’s mouth and nose.

  While it wasn’t perfect, the material filtered out enough of the foul odor to permit him an unmolested breath.

  Three other silhouettes emerged from the gloom. Studying their faces, Rourke saw that it was Bill, Teddy, and Mark, each with their own makeshift mask covering their mouth and nose. BOb stepped up behind them.

  Rourke shifted his footing on the
unstable surface. Looking down, he saw his boots had sunk to the ankle in an unidentifiable black and dark red mass. Then something crackled under its sole.

  Dark smoke wafted between Rourke and the men. Following it visually into the black sky, he blinked in sudden recognition. The onyx obscuration that he’d mistaken for the walls of the shaft was swirling above him.

  Rourke stared at a churning swarm of flies so thick they blotted out the sky.

  He suddenly understood it all.

  Tearing his eyes from the image, Rourke looked at Captain Singleton. “Is this…?” Fearing the answer—knowing the answer, he left the question unfinished.

  Vaughn stared back at him and nodded slowly. He waved a hand through the buzzing swarm, clearing them from his face. “Welcome to Hell.”

  Part IV

  “Hell is empty, and all the devils are here!”

  —William Shakespeare, The Tempest

  Chapter 36

  Vaughn stood over the retching doctor. The sky continued to darken. It had been close to dusk in Geneva, so it was the same here. The rapidly setting sun afforded little light.

  Rourke finally found the bottom of his previous meal and fell quiet.

  Vaughn spoke through his mask, the cloth muffling his words. “I heard the power rising! We should all be home now. What the hell happened?!”

  The young man stood upright and, after wiping a sleeve across his mouth, slid the makeshift mask back into place. He held out his hands. “I don’t know. I started the overload, but it was taking too long.”

  Vaughn took Rourke by the elbow and walked after BOb. The bot was retracing their steps using its built-in inertial nav.

  Scanning the ground, Vaughn waved flies from his face. To his left and right, Mark, Bill, and Teddy paralleled their course as they, too, searched the surface.

  Walking between him and Mark, Rourke fanned the air. “What are we looking for?”

  “The starting point. We’re trying to find the place we were before we went looking for you. Never mind that, though. Just answer the goddamn question. How did you end up here? What happened?”

  Rourke tripped and nearly went sprawling. A bone cracked beneath his boots. He gasped and then bit back a gag. “I’m—” He dry-heaved. “I’m not sure how I got here. I found a working terminal and started the overload, but, like I said, it was taking longer than what you and Angela described. Probably had something to do with the new setting. Anyway, they found me. I was able to kill one of the Necks, but a bunch of the caterpillar bots came after me. Then the lights flared, and I ended up here. A Tater must have hit me through the ceiling.”

  “Shit!” Vaughn shook his head. “The Necks stopped the overload. That’s why we’re all still here.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Peterson said, emotions twisting his words. “That’s it, then. We … We failed.”

  Teddy looked from the man to Vaughn. His forehead drew into a point above his makeshift mask. “We’re trapped here?”

  The robot stopped and turned around.

  Halting, Vaughn glanced at Teddy. Then he looked at all of them. “I don’t know anything except that we have people out there somewhere. We need to find them. Once we’re all together, we’ll figure out what to do next.”

  Peterson threw his hands into the air. “What is there to do?!” He jabbed a finger toward the ground. “There’s nothing that a few billion people haven’t already tried. We’re screwed!”

  “No, Bill.” Vaughn locked eyes with the man. “One thing all of this has taught me is that we’re only screwed if we give up. Hang in there.” Pausing, he looked from man to man. “Don’t quit on me, guys. Don’t quit on your families.”

  Mark nodded somberly. “We’re with you, Vaughn.”

  Bill and Teddy exchanged looks and then nodded as well.

  In the day’s wan light, the portion of Rourke’s face visible above the mask looked ash-white. The young doctor stared back at him for a moment. Then his head dipped.

  After returning the gesture, Vaughn pointed at the ground in front of him. “Is this it, BOb?”

  “I believe so, Captain Assho—”

  Vaughn’s hand shot up. “Not now!” He turned ninety degrees and pointed ahead. “It should be that way.”

  Rourke looked at him. “What should be?”

  “A dead Tater.” Pausing, Vaughn pointed to Rourke. “Hold this position. You’ll be our anchor. Otherwise, we’ll get disoriented and never find anyone.” He waved away the flies. “Once we find one of the dead Taters, BOb can extrapolate the curve of the tunnel. Then we should be able to find our people.”

  The young doctor nodded pensively. “Got—” The man retched. “Got it.”

  Vaughn pointed to Mark, Bill, and Teddy. “Spread out but not so far you lose sight of the man next to you.”

  Major Peterson looked at him askance. “What makes you think the Tater would’ve hung around?” He pointed at the battle operations bot. “Once BOb beamed it here, the thing probably flew away.”

  “I don’t think they’re autonomous. Once the Tater lost contact with its home base, it probably shut down.” Vaughn shrugged. “Besides, where’s it going to beam us? We’re already in Hell.”

  Bill looked ready to say more, but Mark waved him off. “Let’s give it a try.”

  Vaughn nodded his thanks. “Agreed.” He pointed ahead. “Let’s see what we see.”

  As he walked across the uneven surface, Vaughn’s thoughts returned to his arrival. He’d found the other three men and BOb almost immediately after the Tater had beamed him to Hell.

  After fashioning their masks, they had waited in anticipation for the timeline to reset. Vaughn had expected the ground to drop out from beneath him at any moment. However, several minutes later and still firmly in Hell, they’d set out in search of Rourke.

  While they looked for the man, they had discussed how they might find the rest of the crew. From their initial dispositions, it appeared that the beams fired by the Taters dropped them into this world in roughly the same position as they’d been back in their home dimension, unlike the global light wave which had deposited the entirety of Earth’s animal biosphere in one location. Fortunately, it had deposited them on top of the mountain of the dead instead of beneath it.

  Vaughn was so deep in thought he almost tripped over the Tater. Looking up, he waved for the rest of the team. “Over here!” He turned and extended a hand toward Rourke. “You! Stay!”

  Couldn’t have the young man moving. If Vaughn was right, they should be able to draw a line from Rourke’s position to that of the fallen Tater and then extrapolate the curve of the collider tunnel. Then they could start searching for the rest of the group. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had to go on. Angela was still out there somewhere.

  They stood over the fallen Tater. A sliver of the tunnel’s concrete wall along with some miscellaneous hardware lay strewn around the machine.

  Bill Peterson looked at him and nodded. “Looks like you’re right. Thing looks dead as a doornail.”

  Vaughn nodded soberly as he walked around to its far side. He did a double-take. “It’s one of the ones you guys hit with a grenade. This whole end is blown out.”

  Teddy stepped over and then nodded. “Must be the Tater they beamed out.”

  “Huh? Who?”

  Peterson leaned in and studied it. “Yep. That’s the last one I hit. They were starting to stack up. For a moment it blocked the next Tater from getting at us, but then the bastard beamed the thing out of its way. Next thing I know, I’m here.”

  Vaughn stood and looked around. “Where are the ones BOb beamed out?”

  Teddy shrugged.

  Peterson gave Vaughn a meaningful look. “Maybe it flew away.”

  Vaughn continued to scan the hill to the limit of his vision. “I doubt it.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. At least we know we’re on the right path.” Looking over his shoulder, he waved the robot over. “Come here, BOb.” The bot stepped to his side. Vaughn p
ointed at Rourke and then drew an imaginary line with his finger across the bloodied earth to their position. Then he turned and extended the line toward the horizon. “Cross-referencing Doctor Geller’s position and ours, I want you to plot the curve of the tunnel using an arc that follows a seventeen-mile circumference. Can you do that?”

  The robot looked from Rourke to the direction Vaughn had pointed. Finally, it nodded. “I believe so, Captain.”

  “Good.”

  Looking back, Vaughn could just make out the silhouette of Rourke in the distance. Batting away the flies, he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Come on up!”

  Rourke took a couple of steps and then stumbled to a stop. The man bent over and vomited.

  Apparently, the good doctor hadn’t yet found the bottom of that meal.

  After a final heave, Rourke stood and slid his mask back into place. A moment later, he stumbled to a stop next to the dead Tater.

  Vaughn placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Hang in there. As soon as we find everyone else, we’ll get the hell off this …” He faltered, unable to finish the statement.

  What the hell were they going to do?

  What could they do?

  Honestly, he didn’t know. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Angela or anyone else out there by themselves. They might be destined to die here, but no one was going to die alone.

  Not no, but hell no. Not while he had anything to say about it.

  His gaze had fallen to the gore beneath their boots. Vaughn dragged his eyes back to Rourke. “We’ll figure it out from there.”

  The doctor gave a single nod.

  Vaughn addressed the whole team. “If this works, we should be able to follow the line all the way back to Monique and Chance and Angela and Rachel beyond them.”

  They nodded absently. Each man looked distracted, lost in thought.