Mega 5: Murder Island

by Jake Bible

  “Don’t we know it,” Darren said.

  Thorne gave them a last nod and jogged over to the concrete block building. He found a way in easily since none of the doors were intact. All had been metal, all were down on the ground in various states of destruction. They looked like someone had thrown a ton of rocks at them, all dented and pocked with divots.

  Thorne gave the fallen doors a cursory glance then stepped around a concrete corner to find Mike and Shane standing in the middle of a large room, nothing but skeletons and piles of bones lining the ground.

  “You weren’t kidding,” Thorne said. “I count twenty separate bodies.”

  “Something like that,” Shane said. “There are a few extra limbs. I’m guessing some folks lost an arm here, a leg there, and the rest of them are someplace else.”

  “In the jungle?” Mike asked.

  “Possibly,” Thorne said. “I doubt it. Not liking the look of that jungle. I don’t think the staff here did either. They may have gotten away in a boat.”

  “Probably bled to death before they were two miles out to sea,” Shane said.

  “Possibly,” Thorne said. “Have you checked for secret passages or trapdoors yet?”

  “We were about to,” Shane said. “Just wanted your permission to clear the bones away first.”

  “You have it,” Thorne said and slung his M4. “Let’s get to work.”

  It took them thirty minutes to get the piles of bones and intact skeletons cleared off the floor. They systematically, and carefully so as to keep the bones together as much as how they found them, moved every last bone outside onto the sand. Darren and Kinsey glanced their way at first, but their attention was on the tree line.

  “That’s a lot of bones,” Darren said over the com.

  “Yes,” Thorne replied. “See anything?”

  “Some movement,” Kinsey said. “I think it’s the breeze, ‘Ren isn’t so sure.”

  “Act like it’s not the breeze,” Thorne replied.

  “We are,” Kinsey said.

  It took another thirty minutes to clear the rest of the debris from the building’s floor. Most of the debris was what was left of the collapsed roof. Some were remnants of office furniture. A lot of office furniture.

  “This is all in the center of the room,” Shane observed. “Like it had been piled.”

  “Piled on what?” Mike asked as they got the last of the junk out of the way and outside.

  “Let’s find out,” Thorne said.

  He walked the space in a grid, going from one end to the other, moving over two feet, then one end to the other again. Over and over he did this, with Shane and Mike following a meter behind, until they’d covered the whole floor.

  “I didn’t see any cracks or signs of a trapdoor,” Shane said.

  “Me neither,” Mike added.

  Thorne sighed. He reached up to his ear, paused, then tapped at his com.

  “Ballantine?” he called.

  No response.

  “Ballantine, I need to ask you a question,” Thorne said.

  “Am I allowed to talk over the com now?” Ballantine responded, a huge smirk easily evident in his voice.

  “Yes,” Thorne replied. “Is there a trapdoor or secret passage in this building?”

  “Which building?” Ballantine asked.

  “The one you are watching with binoculars right now!” Thorne growled.

  “Oh, that building,” Ballantine chuckled. “Yes, Commander, I believe there might be. If you will go to the center room—”

  “We’re already here,” Thorne said. “You’ve been watching us carry out junk for an hour now.”

  “Have I?” Ballantine responded. “I did doze off for a few minutes, so I didn’t want to assume.”

  “The trapdoor,” Thorne snapped. “How do we find it?”

  “Ah, yes, right, well, let me think for a second,” Ballantine said. Before Thorne could argue, Ballantine continued. “I’m being sincere. I’m not 100% sure how the floor mechanism worked in that cleaning room.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you call it?” Shane asked. “A cleaning room? What the hell got cleaned in here?”

  “You have the answer to that in piles outside, Mr. Reynolds,” Ballantine said.

  “Oh, sweet hell,” Shane said. “Bodies?”

  “I’m sorry, have I not made myself clear on what we are facing on this island?” Ballantine asked. “Seriously. Have I been obtuse in any way? Yes, bodies, Mr. Reynolds. The scarabs eat flesh. That room you are standing in is where we’d put the smaller corpses so that the beetles could strip them down to the bones for easier disposal once the bodies no longer held any usefulness.”

  “Are you saying you had so many bodies that you had to make a special island just to get rid of them?” Shane asked.

  “You weren’t paying attention earlier, were you?” Ballantine asked.

  “He missed part of the briefing, Ballantine,” Thorne said. “Don’t be an ass. Just answer the question. Where is the trapdoor?”

  “There is a hidden panel somewhere outside the entrance to the room,” Ballantine said. “Find that and you’ll find the controls to the trapdoor. But please be careful. It is daylight and you do have the added advantage of no roof, so no shadows, but like I said before, 2012 was the last known contact with the island. I lost two investigative teams and that’s when I cut losses. I honestly have no idea what you will find below.”

  “Nothing good,” Shane said. “Which is why you sent in shooters, not Ronald and Dr. Strangelove.”

  “Kelnichov,” Ballantine corrected. “He really doesn’t like it when you call him Dr. Strangelove.”

  “Strangelove was German,” Mike said. “Not Russian.”

  “I thought Strangelove was the Russian?” Shane replied.

  “No, no, Strangelove used to be a Nazi,” Mike said. “He was there to help against the Russians.”

  “Oh, right, got it,” Shane said.

  Thorne shook his head. “I leave one of them on the ship and there’s still bullshit banter,” he grumbled. “Mike? Do not take Max’s place. Shut up and do your job. Do not encourage Shane.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Mike said and gave Thorne an apologetic look.

  “Noted,” Thorne said and motioned for them to follow him out of the room.

  They did and began searching the wall for a hidden panel. Of course, it being hidden, the task was less than easy. Another thirty minutes went by with all three of them going over each other’s searches until Mike finally found a hairline crack in a spot they’d all checked several times.

  “This has to be it,” Mike said.

  He pulled out a knife and worked it into the crack. It took fifteen minutes of wiggling before he was able to pop the panel open enough to get his fingers inside. He pulled and pulled until finally the panel slowly, painfully opened all the way.

  “Fuck me,” Mike said as he stepped back and shook his hands. The tips of his fingers were purple and white, bruised to hell. “Crow bar would have been nice.”

  “Go soak your fingers in the surf,” Thorne ordered. “Kinsey? Come take his place.”

  “Roger,” Kinsey replied over the com as Mike took off out of the building.

  Kinsey joined them in seconds as Thorne was studying the controls to the trapdoor. Simple system of a master switch with six smaller switches next to it. They looked like electrical breakers, and probably were, but were far from household grade. Thorne had a suspicion that if he pulled his .45 and fired at one of the breakers, it wouldn’t even chip the plastic.

  “Flip the main or one of the smaller switches?” Thorne asked.

  “An excellent question for which I have no answer,” Ballantine said. “I’m sorry, Commander, but one reason I didn’t want us to visit this island is my lack of familiarity with the specifics. I paid attention enough to make sure the island ran efficiently—”

  “How’d that work out?” Shane snorted. He received a glare from his uncle and a punch to the
shoulder from his cousin. “Sorry.”

  “—but as for the minutiae, I am not well versed,” Ballantine continued. “I would advise a slow and steady approach. Perhaps start with the smaller switches, one by one, then move onto the main once you have established what the smaller ones do.”

  “Copy that,” Thorne said. “Kinsey. Shane. Stand in the doorway and watch the room. Tell me exactly what happens when I flip each switch.”

  “Don’t we need power for that?” Shane asked. “There’s no way this island has power.”

  “Not necessarily true,” Ballantine said. “This could be one that has a perpetual power source.”

  “A perpetual power source?” Kinsey asked. “How the hell is that possible?”

  “Small nuclear reactor cooled by an abundant supply of fresh water the island provides,” Ballantine said. “My guess, since this island was not intended for extensive research programs, is that the reactor is no bigger than a compact car.”

  “If the island has one at all,” Thorne said.

  “Very true, Commander,” Ballantine replied, regret in his voice. “I apologize for not having the answers readily available. I am actually trying to sort through my files at this moment to see what I can find. I’ll alert you the moment I have something useful to share.”

  “You do that,” Thorne said. “Kinsey? Shane? Get set.”

  “Set,” they replied.

  Thorne flipped the first small switch.

  “Nothing,” Shane reported after they gave it five or so seconds.

  “Next,” Thorne said and flipped the next switch.

  “Nothing,” Shane said again.

  Same series of disappointments with the remaining switches.

  “I’ll try the main,” Thorne said. “Keep sharp.”

  Thorne threw the main and a distinct hum was heard through the wall and inside the room.

  “That did something,” Shane said.

  Kinsey knelt and felt the floor. “Vibrating. The island has power.”

  “A lot of power,” Thorne said, feeling the hum of electricity through his boots. “Anything in the room?”

  “No change,” Shane said. “Start trying the small switches again.”

  “Yes, Shane, good idea,” Thorne replied, his sarcasm not even close to hidden.

  “No need for the snark attack, Uncle Vinny,” Shane said.

  “That’s saying a lot coming from you,” Kinsey laughed.

  “You all doing fine in there?” Darren asked over the com.

  “Preparing to open Pandora’s Box,” Thorne said and threw the first switch. There was an audible clunk. “Shane?”

  “Nothing,” Shane answered.

  Thorne threw the next switch, the next, and the next. More clunks, no results. When his thumb rested on the last switch, he paused and picked up his M4. He flipped the switch.

  A series of loud, grinding noises filled the room and a meter square space in the middle of the floor began to drop down and slide open, recessing back into the floor itself.

  “And we have liftoff,” Shane said, as he took a step into the room, his carbine ready and aimed at the black square that had been revealed. “Prepped and ready for inevitable bug attack.”

  There was no movement.

  “Uncle Vinny?” Shane asked. “What’s the call?”

  “Approach with caution, prepare to flee,” Thorne said, coming up behind Kinsey. She looked back at him and he nodded for her to follow Shane. “I’ll stay by the door here, ready to flip the switches if you encounter any problems.”

  Shane’s body stiffened as he got to the edge of the trapdoor. “Whoa, hold on, what? That sounded like you want us to go down there.”

  “That’s exactly what I want,” Thorne said. “We won’t learn anything from up here.”

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Shane complained.

  “Stop whining and see how we get down,” Kinsey said as she reached Shane. “Is there a ladder? A small lift? Cables?”

  Shane switched on the flashlight under the barrel of his carbine and shone it down into the trapdoor.

  “Ladder,” he stated. There was no Reynolds joking in his voice. “No rust that I can see. Looks solid.”

  “I’ll take point,” Kinsey said.

  “I got it, Sis,” Shane replied.

  “I’m lighter and faster,” Kinsey argued. “And better with pistols. I can go down with one hand on the rungs and one hand with a .45.”

  She slung her carbine and strapped it to her back then pulled a .45 pistol, affixed a small flashlight to it, and approached the trapdoor. It was pitch black below, and even with both the pistol’s flashlight and Shane’s carbine’s flashlight, it was impossible to see farther than a few feet.

  “You sure?” Shane asked as Kinsey sat down and lowered her legs over the edge.

  Her foot found the first rung of the ladder and she put her weight on it, testing the stability. Convinced it wouldn’t come loose from the wall, which was concrete block like the building, Kinsey swung down onto the ladder, one hand gripping the top rung while the other whipped around and aimed her .45 down into the darkness.

  “We should have brought NVGs,” Shane said. “Some night vision would have been helpful.”

  “Daytime op,” Kinsey said. “Didn’t think of it.”

  “My oversight,” Thorne admitted. “Mike can go back for them.”

  “No,” Kinsey said, climbing down three more rungs before pausing. “I can do this. If I get to the bottom and feel the need for them, then I’ll say so.”

  “I’m following,” Shane said and sat on the edge of the trapdoor.

  “Give me a second,” Kinsey said. “Let me get all the way down. I’ll secure the floor then you follow.”

  “Copy that,” Shane said.

  Kinsey continued down the ladder, her body lurching awkwardly as she balanced her weight against the rungs in order to keep one hand out with her .45. It took her a long while to get to the bottom. When her feet touched solid ground, she looked up to see Shane’s legs dangling a good twenty feet above her.

  Kinsey braced her gun hand with her other and swept the flashlight back and forth around the space. There were walls on either side of the ladder, about four feet each way. That made the space almost ten feet wide total. It was a narrow corridor and Kinsey couldn’t tell how far it went. Her flashlight was strong for its size, but nowhere near strong enough to pierce the depth of the inky blackness.

  “Sis?” Shane called down.

  “I’m good,” Kinsey said. “We may want those NVGs after all. I can’t see more than three feet in front of me.”

  “What do you see?” Thorne asked over the com. Kinsey described the corridor. “Understood. Mike? Take the Zodiac back to the B3 and fetch the NVGs. Get Lucy on the beach to watch the tree line with you when you return. I want Max up on deck to watch them both. Darren? You’re joining us. Bring the NVGs when Mike gets back.”

  “Max may not be up to it,” Shane said.

  “Max can sit in a chair with his rifle up and scope on Lucy,” Thorne said. “He can handle that much.”

  “Roger that,” Mike replied over the com. “Be back in a few.”

  “There is definitely something in the jungle,” Darren said. “It’s small, whatever it is, but it’s in there. That’s not a breeze.”

  “Impossible,” Ballantine interrupted. “There is no animal life on this island. Night scarabs only. Nothing can survive them.”

  “Something did,” Darren said.

  “Good observation, Darren,” Thorne said. “If it makes a move, do not hesitate to drop it.”

  “Not a problem,” Darren replied.

  “If it is an animal, then killing it may not be in our best interest,” Ballantine said. “It has survived against the beetles. We may learn a thing or two from it.”

  “Or it’s more dangerous than the beetles and poses a bigger threat,” Thorne said. “My orders stand.”

  “You want me here or d
own with Kinsey?” Shane asked.

  “Drop down,” Thorne said. “Back her up.”

  “Got it,” Shane said and slung his carbine. He didn’t pull a pistol, keeping both hands free so he could descend as fast as possible. Once on the ground, he brought his carbine back out and stepped close to Kinsey. “Jesus. You smell that?”

  “Been smelling it,” Kinsey said. “It’s like old leather.”

  “No, that’s not it,” Shane said. “It’s like old people in a nursing home. Smells medicinal, but also like shit and piss.”

  “Smells about right,” Kinsey agreed.

  “Shoot me before you put me in one of those places,” Thorne said.

  “I hope you live that long,” Kinsey replied.

  “Jesus, Sis, don’t jinx me,” Shane said. He shone his flashlight down the corridor and froze. “You see that?”

  “No,” Kinsey said. “But I trust your eye.”

  “I don’t. Only got the one,” Shane said. He took a couple steps forward. “Why the hell would you build a freaking trapdoor to a corridor that doesn’t have any lights?”

  “Maybe there are lights, but there’s a short or the bulbs are all burned out,” Kinsey said.

  “No, I don’t believe there are lights,” Ballantine said.

  “Get out of our ears, Ballantine,” Kinsey snapped. “Unless you have important information that will save our lives, keep your trap shut.”

  “Ms. Thorne, I believe you are now officially sounding more and more like your father every day,” Ballantine chuckled.

  “I take that as a compliment,” Kinsey said.

  “As well you should,” Ballantine laughed some more then cleared his throat. “I will refrain from comments from now on.”

  “We all know that won’t happen,” Thorne said. Ballantine didn’t respond.

  “What’d you see?” Kinsey asked Shane.

  “Not sure,” Shane replied. “Movement. Could have just been a shadow from the flashlights, but I don’t think so.”

  “Big movement or little movement?” Kinsey asked.

  “Just movement,” Shane said. “Where the hell are those NVGs?”

  ***