Jury Duty (First Contact)

by Peter Cawdron

Adrianna reaches over, saying, “Let me take your pack. That’ll give you more freedom to move.”

  Their eyes meet. Nick goes to say something when she cuts him off. “I’ll be fine.”

  Reluctantly, he agrees.

  To counter the swing of the ropes, Nick removes his crampons, clipping them onto his harness, and plants his boots on the steel hatch. He grabs the handles around the outside of the door. He’s standing sideways, hanging from the double ropes.

  “Just like a leg press at the gym.”

  Jazz laughs. With mock disdain, she says, “You’ve never done a leg press at the gym.”

  “Hey,” Nick says, pretending to be insulted. “I’ve walked past a gym. I’ve looked in the windows.”

  Jazz shakes her head, but he gets a smile.

  Nick sets his legs and pushes. His boots leave prints on the frozen steel. Water seeps out from within the corridor.

  Within seconds, the leak turns from a trickle into a torrent. Jazz shoves her pickax into the gap to wedge open the door. The water on the other side is waist-deep and runs for several minutes before the level lowers. As the pressure eases, Jazz wedges her helmet into the gap, allowing the water to run faster. Once she’s inside, Nick hauls up her backpack. She drags it through the knee-deep water and onto the steps leading to L1. Nick passes the other two packs through to her.

  “Damn, that’s cold,” Nick says, stepping into the water. A thin crust of ice has frozen around the edge of the walls. As the water recedes, the ice shelf collapses.

  Adrianna looks at a half-eaten donut floating toward the door. “So much for containment protocols.”

  “Speaking of containment,” Nick says. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t contain myself much longer.”

  “Just,” Jazz says, unable to complete her sentence. She points at a nearby door with a stick figure on a brushed aluminum sign.

  As Nick wades toward the bathroom, Adrianna says, “The plumbing is probably frozen.”

  He points at the door. “Which plumbing? Mine or?”

  Adrianna shakes her head.

  Nick says, “I’ll leave something for future archeologists to find.”

  “Paleontologists,” Adrianna says, correcting him. “And I’m sure they’ll be thrilled.”

  “Anyone else need to?”

  Jazz says, “I’ll wait until we’ve found a working toilet.”

  “Okay,” Nick says.

  By the time he comes back, Jazz and Adrianna have dumped the packs on the stairs leading up to L1, getting them out of the water. In retrospect, he should have headed up there to the bathroom, but his bladder felt as though it was about to burst.

  The two women have laid out the equipment on the steps. Ropes have been coiled. Crampons are stacked together. Carabiners and harnesses sit on top of each other.

  “Hey, you know, what you did back there. Thanks,” Nick says to Jazz, tipping his head toward the maintenance shaft. He’s not sure what else he can say.

  “You can thank me if we make it out of here alive,” Jazz says. “I only hope those goddamn pumps work. We lost the arctic scuba gear. If the pumps fail, the rescue is over.”

  The scuba gear isn’t all they lost, but no one wants to mention Bear. For now, they have to press on.

  “Is the water supposed to be so blue?” Nick asks, looking into the submerged staircase leading down to L3.

  “Ultraviolet loading,” Adrianna says, pointing up at the ceiling.

  “Huh?”

  “The lights,” she says. “They saturate UV as a strategy to reduce microbial growth.”

  “Oh,” Nick replies, as though that makes sense to him.

  “Okay,” Jazz says. “Enough sightseeing. Time to suit up.”

  They wade through the water and up the steps. Adrianna pulls a bunch of hazmat suits from her pack.

  “Are these really necessary?” Nick asks.

  “Yes. If we run into any kind of biohazard, these will keep us safe. Besides, they’ll keep your feet warm and dry.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Nick replies, sitting on the steps and pulling his boots off. He peels his wet socks from his feet. Adrianna hands him a fresh set of woolen socks. Although the hazmat suit is bright yellow, it has built-in black rubber boots.

  Nick’s glad to be rid of his boots. Jazz, though, keeps hers on, slipping them inside the suit. Her feet must be cold, but it seems she doesn’t care.

  Once Nick’s climbed inside his hazmat suit, Adrianna fixes a respirator over his face and starts the flow of oxygen. She zips up his hood. In a matter of seconds, the suit inflates, leaving him feeling like the Michelin Man. The transparent plastic hood is oversized, leaning to one side on his shoulders, towering above his head.

  “The suit uses positive pressure,” Adrianna says as she dresses. “So if you get any leaks, air will push out, preventing contaminants from getting in. We’ve got four hours on one tank.”

  “Four hours is all we need,” Jazz says, zipping up her suit. “Okay, here’s the game plan. Adrianna, you’re going to sweep L1 looking for survivors. Nick, you’ll work on the pumps. I’m going to go and get Father back online down here.”

  “We’re splitting up?” Adrianna asks, unsure of herself.

  Nick addresses Jazz. “You know when they do this in the movies, it’s always a bad idea, right?”

  “This ain’t the movies,” Jazz replies in a growl.

  “Fair enough,” Adrianna says, turning and walking up the stairs to the first level. Being in a bulky suit, she looks down at her feet as she mounts each step. She watches the fall of her rubber boots, wanting to avoid tripping.

  “Wait,” Nick says, grabbing her arm as she steps up beside him.

  “What?” she says, turning toward him. The clear faceplate on her suit has ballooned, making her head look small in the oversized plastic hood.

  Nick points at the top of the stairs. Fingers wrap around the edge of the wall. Jazz sees them as well. She pulls a handgun from her backpack.

  “It’s okay,” Nick says, addressing whoever’s up on the L1 landing. “You can come out. We’re here to help.”

  Jazz steps away from the two of them, pushing herself hard up against the wall and aiming the gun at the top of the stairs. In her mind, help is a secondary priority.

  Adrianna edges forward, repeating Nick’s point. “We’re from Vincennes. We came down here for you. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  Straggly blonde hair appears followed by a bloodshot eye peering around the corner.

  “It’s okay,” Adrianna says from behind the clear plastic dome of her hazmat suit. She beckons the woman closer. The woman hesitates. Black gloved fingers are anything but reassuring. Adrianna steps up, slowly moving toward her. The woman removes her fingers, leaving bloody streaks on the wall.

  “Please,” Adrianna says.

  “You. You,” the woman says, stepping out in front of them. “You can’t go down there. The crystal man.”

  “Easy,” Adrianna says with both hands out in front of her. “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

  “You don’t understand,” the woman says. “You’re in danger. The man. He’s everywhere.”

  Jazz is barely breathing. She’s got her gun trained on the center of the woman’s chest. One sudden move, and she’s protecting her team.

  “What man?” Adrianna asks, stepping up toward her.

  “The water man.”

  “There’s no one down here,” Adrianna says. She’s close enough she can read the woman’s name tag. “We’re going to get you out of here, Elizabeth.”

  The two women lock eyes.

  Adrianna has her hand within reach of Elizabeth’s trembling fingers. “It’s okay. Come with me.”

  Elizabeth takes her gloved hand. Slowly, Adrianna leads her down the stairs, but she won’t go more than a few steps. She shakes her head, pulling against Adrianna. She’s afraid of the water.

  “Get me the med-kit and rations,” Adrian
na says to Nick.

  Elizabeth sits on the steps, trembling, but not from the cold.

  “Who is she?” Jazz asks.

  “Dr. Elizabeth Montgomery. Physicist. She’s from the UK.”

  Jazz puts her gun away. “Elizabeth, can you tell us what happened here?”

  She doesn’t answer. Her eyes are fixed on the water lapping at the steps. Adrianna gives her something to drink, holding a bottle for her.

  Nick asks, “What does she mean by the crystal man?”

  No one answers.

  Nick opens the first aid kit, giving Adrianna access to antiseptic lotion and bandages. Jazz is nervous. She keeps switching the way she’s facing. One moment, she’s watching them, the next, she’s looking back at ripples on the water at the bottom of the stairs.

  Adrianna bandages Elizabeth’s hands.

  “I need you to sweep that floor,” Jazz says, sounding anxious. Adrianna doesn’t reply. She bats her hand behind her as if to say, be patient.

  “Listen,” Adrianna says to Elizabeth. “You’re safe here on the stairs, okay? I want you to wait here. I’m going to go and look for the others.”

  Elizabeth is reluctant to let go of Adrianna’s hand, but she does. A soft squelch betrays Adrianna’s steps as she approaches the top of the landing. Nick doesn’t like this. They should stick together, but with limited oxygen, there’s not enough time. As much as he understands Adrianna’s concern, who’s to say they haven’t already been exposed to toxins or whatever. Their hazmat suits might be entirely redundant.

  Jazz wades through the water, moving along the corridor on L2. Tiny fish dart away from her. Tiny transparent bodies scatter before reforming as a school and turning behind her. They’re barely visible beneath the lights. Flickers of silver appear and then disappear as they move in a shoal.

  Nick steps down into the icy cold water. The pressure of the water closes over his hazmat suit, but there are no leaks. It might be cold, but his feet are dry.

  Jazz points at the cupboard beside the stairs leading to L3. “You’ll find the sump pumps in there.”

  “On it.”

  As much as he doesn’t want to turn his back on Elizabeth, Nick knows he has to. Now is not the time for nerves. Jumping at shadows makes no sense. Although he may feel as though someone’s watching him, intellectually, he knows that’s silly. Of course, someone is watching him—that someone’s Elizabeth. Nick’s got a job to do. He needs to focus.

  Nick opens the maintenance room. It’s barely a cupboard. Thick pipes run between floors. Unlike the bathroom, where exposed pipes beneath the sink have cracked as water froze within them, these pipes are insulated.

  A steel grate sits over a gap between floors, allowing him to peer into the submerged L3 utility room below. Water drips onto his suit from L1. Nick runs his gloved hand over the various labels, wanting to understand the setup—electrical, sewage, air, water, drainage. Oval windows allow for inspection beside the access ports. He rubs one, looking for movement beyond the glass. There’s a pressure gauge on the drainage line, but he’s not sure about the reading. What’s kPa in real measurements?

  He opens a locker. A bunch of electrical sump pumps sit on a shelf. A variety of fire hose attachments hang from custom fittings.

  Someone’s standing behind him, but his hazmat suit makes it difficult to see beyond about 180 degrees without turning around. Nick’s not sure who it is, but they’re quiet, watching over his shoulder. So long as they don’t annoy him, he doesn’t care.

  “Man, this place is kitted out,” he says, picking up a bulky Y-shaped brass fitting. “Look at this. It’s a heavy-duty three-way fire-point connector with brass ball-valves. This is hardcore. I haven’t seen something like this since my days with the NYFD.”

  Nick screws the Y-connector onto the main pipe and links a few sections of hose together. He’s methodical. Jazz is rubbing off on him. He reaches beneath the water and shifts the grate, leaning it to one side. Nick lowers a pump, submerging it in the shaft leading to L3. As soon as the hose goes slack, he knows he’s on the lower floor. He grabs another pump and repeats the process.

  “Here goes,” he says, plugging the pumps into electrical sockets on the ceiling.

  The fire hoses inflate with water. He opens the valves, allowing water to pump into the drainage line.

  “All right,” he says, clapping his gloved hands together. “Not bad for an amateur.”

  Nick doesn’t think anything of the person standing behind him. Adrianna’s probably come back from L1. Jazz might have finished her sweep of L2. Perhaps Elizabeth got bored and is looking to help. It doesn’t matter. He’s preoccupied, watching bubbles flicker beneath the glass viewpoint in the pipe.

  “Our kPas are up,” he jokes. “Whatever that means.”

  Nick’s expecting some long-winded explanation about international standards from Adrianna, but if it’s her behind him, she’s quiet.

  There’s some chalk in the toolkit. He reaches down and scratches a mark on the wall, wanting to see how quickly the water recedes. His mind is preoccupied. There’s a helluva lot of water to shift. Now, it’s a question of the differential. Somehow, water is seeping in. So long as he’s pumping water out faster than it’s coming in, the water level will recede. Given it’s taken time for the base to fill up, he hopes the pumps will win out over the leak. Ideally, he needs to find that leak and plug the hole.

  Nick steps back, admiring his handiwork.

  “What do you think?” he asks, turning around.

  Elizabeth is still sitting on the stairs. She’s huddled under a blanket, but her eyes aren’t on him. She’s looking at the ghostly apparition beside him.

  Nick stands perfectly still. His eyes move, surveying the shape next to him.

  A tiny fish darts through the water suspended beside him. It swims innocently through the shoulder of what appears to be a transparent man. The fish has no regard for where it is within the column of water forming the outline of a human. Nick shuffles backward, wanting to get inside the utility cupboard. Water ripples around his legs.

  What the hell?

  Is this what Buckley saw? What was it he said? The devil has no form but like that of a man. Is this what he meant? Is this what scared him into wanting to detonate that nuke?

  Nick’s heart pounds in his chest, threatening to break through his ribs.

  The watery semblance of a man steps forward. Legs and arms move even though there’s no substance to them, nothing beyond the cold, clear water. Light reflects off smooth curves. Shoulders, arms, biceps. It’s as though the statue of David has been brought to life in crystal.

  Nick bumps against the concrete wall inside the narrow utility room.

  “W—What are you?” he asks. He reaches his hand out, wanting to grab the door, but the creature is too close. He’ll shut him inside with him. A transparent hand mimics his motion, reaching for the handle.

  Nick stops. He splays his fingers wide, holding up his open hand in a sign of friendship, at least as he understands it.

  “Hello?”

  The alien figure copies him. Water drips from a transparent elbow as the ghostly hand aligns with Nick’s glove.

  Nick reaches forward, touching gently against the watery hand before him. Contact is made. The creature feels firm. Nick was expecting his hand to pass through the water, but it doesn’t. Their eyes meet. How can this thing see or move or touch? There’s no substance beyond the thin, almost crystalline exterior. Tiny bits of fine silt circulate, being suspended within the watery man.

  “What are you doing?” Adrianna asks, coming down the stairs behind Elizabeth.

  The alien water creature collapses, splashing against Nick’s suit. Ice-cold water swirls around his legs. He looks down. Tiny fish dart away from his boots.

  “Tell me you saw that?”

  “Saw what?” Adrianna asks. “Have you found something? There’s nothing up there on L1.”

  “Ah,” Nick replies, looking at the water dripp
ing from his gloves.

  “Hey, you got it working!”

  “Yes,” he says, turning and pointing at the chalk mark. Already, the water level has dropped a couple of inches. Ripples of water lap over his ankles.

  Jazz comes back, but unlike him, she has no regard for the water, allowing it to splash rather than wading through it. She’s oblivious.

  “Everything good?”

  “Yeah, fine,” he replies.

  Nick is intimidated by the two women. Adrianna’s smarter. Jazz is braver. He wants to say something about what he saw, but he’s afraid of coming across stupid. He’s never felt this way before. Normally, Nick’s self-assured. In hindsight, he realizes his confidence was misplaced and arrogant. Now, he feels naked. He knows he should say something, but he doesn’t. They’ll think he’s seeing things, letting his imagination run wild.

  “Did you find anything?” Jazz asks Adrianna.

  “What?” Nick says, feeling defensive. “Me? No.”

  “Not you,” Jazz snaps, pointing. “Her.”

  “Bodies,” Adrianna says.

  Jazz doesn’t say as much, but as she’s returned alone, that was all she found as well. “Father is back online.”

  “Okay,” Nick says. He’s nervous. Jumpy. He wants to tell them about the watery man, but how? They’ll think he’s gone mad. Elizabeth is quiet. She knows. They exchange looks. Her raised eyebrows scream, ‘Not so crazy now, huh?’

  Jazz asks, “Is there any way we can speed up those pumps?”

  “No,” he says, “but once we get down a level, I can double them up and extend them.”

  “Good.”

  Adrianna sits on the stairs beside Elizabeth, comforting her.

  Jazz goes through the backpacks, organizing more of her equipment. She dumps the spare climbing gear on the stairs and sorts through a dizzying array of weapons and ammunition.

  Nick watches as the water recedes. As soon as it has dropped below floor level, he shifts over to the stairs leading down to L3. Nick sits with his feet in the water, moving a few steps at a time, keeping his boots wet. It’s a token gesture. He’s not sure what happened by the maintenance cupboard, but whatever that creature was, it meant him no harm. In his own way, he’s trying to invite it back. He’d love nothing more than for it to appear so he could say, See? I’m not crazy.