[Anthology] Killer Thrillers

by Nick Thacker

  Achieve.

  Mark’s training was in full gear now, and he had a new objective. Find Reese.

  Reese wasn’t safe anywhere in the station, so there was no point in waiting. They needed to find a way out of this mess, and then get back to Jen and the others.

  He rounded a corner, reading the plates on the doors as he passed.

  L10.23

  L10.24

  He must be on Level Ten.

  He found a short hallway that appeared to not have any doors. There was no sign above it, and he began to run past as he heard a noise.

  Shouting?

  He stopped.

  Turning, he focused his attention on the short hallway.

  Another shout.

  “Reese!” he yelled.

  He ran down the hallway, trying to find a door; anything.

  “Dad!” Had he heard that correctly?

  Finally, reaching the end, he saw an unmarked door to what looked like a closet. He examined it, seeing a deadbolt fastened haphazardly on the outside of the door. This had to be it.

  He unlocked the deadbolt and tried the handle. Finding it also locked, he kicked on the door violently.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  He yelled again.

  The handle turned, and the door opened from the inside. Blistering white fell out into the hall, immediately lighting the area.

  “Reese!” his son stared at him from inside the room, eyes wide and frightened. He stood still for a second, unsure, then ran forward and embraced Mark.

  “Reese, are you alright?” Mark asked. While holding his son, Mark took a look around the room for the first time. Stark white walls, white bedsheets on a white-framed bed, and a white chair in the corner. Clearly there weren’t a lot of decorating ideas put into this room.

  “I—I’m fine. How did you find me?”

  “Weren’t you yelling?”

  “I was, but that was because I thought I heard a crash or something, through the walls. I thought maybe some people tried to break in to rescue me, but I never thought it would be you! I mean, how did you find this place?”

  “Your mother and I were brought here too, to find something. Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Reese was confused, but Mark couldn’t deal with that right now. “Reese, do you know your way around here?”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve been locked in this room since they brought me here. I remember… the house… they came in—” he stopped short, tears brimming at the sides of his eyes.

  “It’s okay, Reese. We need to find Mom.” He turned away from the room and waited for Reese to follow. “Can you run?”

  Reese nodded, and they started jogging down the hall. At the main hallway, Mark turned left and continued reading the numbers on the doors. “Do you know how many people might be here?” he asked.

  “No, I’ve only seen the lady and the man.”

  Mark knew he was talking about Sylvia and Jeremiah.

  They ran more, now in a dimly-lit hallway that was walled with glass, large offices spaced down each side. He targeted the final door, the one facing them at the very end of the hall.

  L10.33.

  The room wasn’t lit, but from the lights above bouncing through the glass, he could see plants growing inside, almost covering every inch of the front wall. It looked promising. Further, the door was slightly ajar, and Mark slowed to a walk.

  “Reese, I need you to wait outside, by the door,” he whispered. “If you hear me yell, or anything unusual, run away. Get to the exit of this level and run up the stairs. Okay?”

  Reese nodded again.

  Mark approached the door and gently pushed it open. The office was empty, but the humidity and smell of vegetation forcefully filled his nostrils. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust.

  “It’s okay, Reese. You can come in. Don’t touch anything.”

  Reese entered, and his eyes lit up as he saw the venus flytrap on the desk. “Cool!” he said, running toward it.

  Mark followed his son, dodging leaves and branches, and rounded the desk. He sat down in the leather chair and opened the MacBook Pro on the desk. He stared at the standard password field for a few seconds, then pressed a key combination on the keyboard. Immediately a black screen appeared, followed by a command prompt of operating system jargon. He scanned the lines, then typed another string of characters.

  /sbin/mount -uw /

  Another few lines of code, and more waiting.

  Finally, he sat back in the chair. Reese watched over his shoulder as the computer booted up to the desktop, and Mark started perusing the files. Another screen opened as he clicked into a folder.

  “It’s password-protected, and I’m assuming it’s expecting credentials from an admin or higher, but I don’t have time to bypass and hack into it as Austin, so I’m going to try setting back to the default super administrator user.”

  He typed some more, opening a terminal shell application, and entered a few strings. A text file popped up onto the screen called init_err.txt, and immediately began to fill with newly-discovered system errors. Mark sat back, looking at the file, then started typing again.

  “It’s trying to launch a specific program; one that was in Austin’s encrypted folder.” Finally he pressed a key and waited as lines of code streamed down the small window on the screen. Mark started mumbling to himself out of habit as he followed the code and read along. He frowned and stopped the code as a message appeared in another terminal window.

  /etc/init.d/GLIIdatabase_cron_server

  The message disappeared, and Mark froze.

  “What is it?”

  “Once I got in, it opened a file full of errors that said this other file couldn’t be found. I was trying to find it so I could see what it was, but when I did, it launched automatically.”

  He logged off the computer and shut the lid.

  Mark reached for the top of three matching drawers on the front of the desk, opened it, and pulled out a three-ring binder.

  The binder was labeled like the others he and Erik had found on the main level, but Mark quickly realized it had been updated. The first page was missing, judging by the words “Table of Contents—Pg. 2” scrawled across the top in handwritten text. He flipped through to the next section and started reading.

  The book wasn’t what the Table of Contents listed at all. Instead, Mark found redacted communication files; letters sent back and forth between “AB”—Agartha Base, he guessed—and another name that had been blacked out.

  “What is it, Dad?” Reese asked, coming alongside him at the desk.

  “I don’t know yet,” Mark answered, continuing to read. “It looks like this station was built for one purpose, then changed around for another purpose later. Whoever brought you here is in on it, but I don’t know what they’re trying to do.”

  He flipped a page and gasped. The page he was reading was not redacted—it had been added recently—and it was a diagram of the research station, viewed from the side. The majority of the diagram was familiar to Mark, including the domed roof, the multiple levels each with a specific function, and the upside-down conical power plant in the center.

  But it was the area around the station on the diagram that caught his eye. He read the captions aloud: “‘Crustal formations indicate weakened pressure points…’ ‘load-zone activation points…’ ‘trench convergence—focal point.’”

  He scanned the pages following the diagram, confirming his thoughts. “Reese, my company did some work for the people that brought us here. At the time, it was nonsense—computer stuff, programming and developing, that sort of thing. There was a lot of it, but it all seemed unrelated, and they just needed to find a way to get it done right, quickly.

  “But I recognize some of this now. At the time, it was all hidden in computer programs, split up enough that it was impossible to see what the big picture was. But here it is; all of it. The pieces, I mean.

  “This—” he pointed out to Reese
the large conical power plant, “was part of what my team was working on. It was all theoretical, though, at the time, and it was all numbers. We had no idea it was an actual analytical prototype for something of this scale.”

  “What was it?” Reese asked.

  “The project? It was a probabilistic model to determine the efficacy of centrifugal movement on a pressurized plane.”

  He paused, then looked at Reese. “Sorry. It was a computer program that was supposed to determine whether or not this place would hold up after being pressurized under five miles of ocean while rotating.”

  “Rotating? Like spinning?”

  “Right. Rotating, like a drill.”

  42

  How could it be real?

  Mark remembered the prototype well. It was a computer model that depicted the exact variables he saw rendered in the diagrams. His team—himself and three others—had developed the computer program, performed the tests, and delivered the results. It had been innocent theoretical engineering on a hypothetical set of data.

  There was no talk of deep-sea drilling, plate tectonics, or underwater research stations.

  How could we have been so blind?

  These questions nagged at him as he and Reese hustled down the hallways of Level Ten. He counted up as the office and room numbers slid past, until finally he passed the room he’d been kept in.

  L10.03.

  Right near the exit. The room was just as he remembered it—white, empty, and devoid of life. A glass wall and nearly invisible door separated the room from the hallway they stood in.

  They didn’t wait around to explore more. Mark knew Austin had probably made his way back to his office to check into the closed-circuit camera system, and Sylvia was also somewhere in the vicinity. And who knew how many other “scientists” Austin had wandering around down here.

  He thought back to the map up on Level Four. Level Eleven was labeled Geothermal: Power and Energy, and he knew Jen was originally wanting to explore there. He had no better ideas, so that was it.

  “Let’s go downstairs, Reese.” He walked toward the exit, Reese following close behind.

  He stepped to the large metal doors and shoved. They wouldn’t budge.

  Reese stepped toward it and reached out with his hand. He placed his small palm open on the crack of the doors, and Mark heard something click inside the mechanism.

  “I saw the lady do it when she took me here. I don’t think it’s locked. You just have to know where the handle is.”

  Mark was impressed, and he pushed again. This time, the great metal doors swung open, revealing the corrugated metal staircase to the levels above and below them.

  And a flash of movement caught Mark’s eye.

  “Did you see that?” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  “No. What?”

  “Come on, slowly. Try not to make any noise.”

  He walked to the ledge and started down the stairs. He had seen something move below them, but it was too small and quick for Mark to be able to discern what it was.

  He descended the staircase, carefully stepping with his toes first. They stopped in front of the open doors to the level below, labeled Level Eleven: Rue Marron.

  “Reese, wait here. I’m going to see who’s down here. Be ready to run if I yell, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response.

  Mark stepped onto the ground of Level Eleven, looking each direction. A huge conical machine hung from above his head, splitting the ground in front of him and descending into the lower levels. He could feel the hum of the huge machine gently shaking around him.

  He didn’t dare call out, but he walked a few more steps toward an outlying building. Smoke rose from a broken window, and spent magazine rounds littered the ground around him.

  Something happened here, he knew immediately. Recently.

  He could taste the burnt magnesium on his tongue.

  He struggled to stay quiet, wanting to yell Jen’s name. He had to know if she was still okay.

  Moving toward the center of the level, he looked back. Reese was waiting by the main entrance to the level, gazing back at him. He’d noticed the burning smell as well.

  Motioning to for him follow, Mark continued to examine the level’s buildings and grounds. He followed a line of small buildings, heading toward a smaller one near the central machine.

  We need to get out of sight, he thought.

  The building was situated as the last in a line of small maintenance sheds, next to a tall structure that had a sign on the side of it.

  Maintenance Elevator: To Level Four.

  He walked through the unlocked door of the first building next to the elevator. The place was absolutely destroyed, with papers and notebooks sprawled about and bullet holes riddling the walls. Reese entered and stood close by Mark’s side.

  “Move to that window and look toward the center of the level. There’s the big machine that I told you about upstairs, but I want you to keep your eyes open for movement, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Mark walked back to the door and peered around the corner. I know I saw something.

  Something moved in the corner of his eye, and Mark reacted instinctively. He moved his forearm up toward the movement, protecting his face, as a massive force bowled over him.

  Falling to the side, he looked back to Reese and yelled just as he hit the ground. “Run! Get to that elevator!”

  He felt the wind leave his body as the creature crushed him. His eyes had closed in reaction to the unknown force, but he still used his other senses to analyze what it was that had attacked him.

  The thing rolled off him—it was shaped like a human, he realized—and lunged again. Mark rolled to a sitting position just in time, and the person landed hard on the ground. Reese was now running out the sole door of the building, right next to Mark and the attacker.

  Without hesitation, the man reached out and grabbed Reese with an outstretched arm, causing Mark’s son to gasp in surprise. Reese wriggled around to get free, but he was locked in a vice grip from the man’s dark, muscular arm.

  Mark backpedaled, now on his feet, and stood fully upright. He wasn’t as tall as the man, nor was he as large, but he wasn’t going to stand still and let his son get taken again.

  He took in his opponent, for the first time truly looking at him.

  When he saw who it was, his jaw dropped.

  “Carter? Carter, is that you?”

  The man’s face was similar to Daniel Carter’s, but lacked… something. His eyes were hollow, dark, and empty, and his expression was of sheer nonchalance, as if Reese was simply a bag of groceries to be carried inside.

  “Carter, can you let my son go?” Mark asked, his voice soft and delicate. He had no idea what was going on, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Carter just looked at Mark, staring through him. His head cocked slightly to the side, Carter seemed completely unaware of what was going on.

  “Dad? What’s—”

  Carter ripped his arm sideways, swinging Reese completely around his body and causing the boy to let out a painful yelp. “No,” Carter said. His voice was scratchy, dry, and stressed. He had moved Reese to the opposite side of his large body, away from Mark.

  Mark’s eyes narrowed as his emotions took over. He didn’t care about his goal; his calculated logic.

  He didn’t care if he killed the man.

  Mark lunged, moving fast and ducking low. Reese’s eyes widened as he braced for the impact, but Mark dove to the side at the last minute. He slammed his left hand out, striking upward with a flattened and steady open palm.

  The blow took Reese and Carter by surprise. Carter stumbled backward and wrapped both hands around his bruised neck, letting Reese go. Catching his breath, he looked at Mark, startled.

  Mark was already bearing down for his next attack. He stretched his other hand out, enticing Carter to reach for it.

  Carter took the bait, grabbing for Mark’s wrist. Mark used the
hold as leverage, flipping himself up and around the big man’s back, then slashed down with his elbow onto the center of his spine just below his neck.

  Carter howled in rage, falling to his knees. Mark continued his barrage, using his right hand to bend Carter’s left arm around him, feeling for pressure. Finally, he held Carter’s shoulder as he pulled upward on the arm, abruptly and forcefully, and he heard an immediate snap.

  The soldier blinked back tears as his body screamed in agony. He dropped to the ground, going limp, as he passed out.

  Reese watched the entire incident—no longer than five seconds—play out as his father incapacitated the larger man. He started to respond, but was silenced by Mark first.

  “Go.”

  Reese didn’t argue. He turned and ran toward the elevator, followed closely by Mark.

  Entering, Mark wondered if the tired elevator would even work, but he was surprised to see lights dotting the interior. It was a true maintenance elevator, made of sheet metal and large enough to hold a crew of twenty men.

  He pressed “4” on the panel and the elevator immediately lurched upward.

  “Dad?” Reese asked. The boy was visibly shaking.

  Mark didn’t respond. He continued looking forward as the elevator continued its climb.

  “Dad? What—”

  “Enough.” Mark’s voice was low, but direct. “Not now, I mean. There’s not enough time.”

  He gritted his teeth, but Reese didn’t ask about it again.

  The elevator’s panel lit up as it passed the individual floor numbers.

  9.

  8.

  7.

  The elevator was slow; Mark didn’t like that. It was all happening too fast, and this elevator wasn’t going fast enough.

  6.

  The elevator stopped.

  Mark pushed the “4” button again; again. It didn’t move. They were stuck, between level six and level five.

  He punched a fist onto the panel, denting the thin metal control unit.

  Slowly, the elevator began to rise.

  The light for 5 blinked once, then stayed lit. The elevator had stopped, but this time the doors slid open.

  Mark stepped in front of Reese as the doors revealed the man standing outside the elevator.