Du Bois (Frozen Apocalypse Book 1)
Page 13
"Fine," Michael nods, "so, what's the plan?"
The Captain turns to his communicator and starts typing.
"I've asked the squad leader guarding the stores in the top level to send a team with all the explosives they can find up there," he says, "We will go down a ways into the tunnel and line the walls with everything that we've got. We need as big a plug as possible. Then, we blow it up."
"Fire in the hole! Fire in the hole!"
All around the TBM people take cover. The Captain activates the detonator. Seconds later a loud rumbling indicates the explosion started. It is followed by a wall of dust coming from the tunnel, engulfing the TBM and everything around it. Ismael holds his hand over his mouth and nose to keep the dust out. The sound dies down and the dust settles.
"Go and check the plug," the Captain orders, "but be careful, the tunnel is bound to be unstable."
Michael salutes and gathers his people. They enter the tunnel. It is dark, only lit from behind them. As they leave the cone of light they turn on the night vision goggles. Michael and his squad take careful steps over the debris flung all the way from the explosion site. It takes them a few minutes to reach the first effects on the wall made by the explosion. A piece of concrete fell from it's place and pieces broke apart when it fell. The steel reinforcement kept most of it together. Where the plate had been the frozen soil is visible. It's crumbling.
"Lets keep walking and make this quick," Michael says.
Not long after that they see more and more missing pieces in the puzzle like wall. Further back, close to where they set the first of the explosives, a mountain of dirt and concrete looms in the darkness. It seems the whole tunnel is blocked and the mission is a success.
"Okay squad," Michael shouts, "we're done here. Mission accomplished."
They turn around and start for the exit. From all around they can hear the remains of the walls shift. It's subtle, but there is movement from all sides. Michael takes point. He picks his way through the debris littered all around them. Then a plate just in front of him at the apex of the tunnel drops. Just in time he jumps back, barreling into his squad behind him.
"You okay?" one of them asks.
"I'm fine," Michael says, "it just missed. Lets keep moving guys. I have a feeling that won't be the last."
They pick up the pace. Behind them more plates shift and fall. Each one sends a tremor through the tunnel with the risk of destabilizing more concrete. From the empty spots above them soil is knocked loose. It falls around and on them. Large clumps of dirt follow. One hits a squad member, rendering him unconscious. His mates grab him and drag him along. They start to run. One of the two carrying the unconscious man trips over a rock and falls face down, taking the other two with him. A plate breaks free and fall on top of them.
The rest of the team stops in their tracks and turn at the cushioned thud of the concrete on flesh. There are three of their team, squashed between the concrete plate and the debris on the floor. They are dead.
"Come on!" Michael shouts, "we mourn for them after we're safe!"
They start running again. Slowly they leave the rumbling and shifting walls behind them. The end of the tunnel is near, they rip off their goggles to keep from being blinded by the light there. They rush out of the tunnel and into the arms of the people waiting there for them.
Breathing hard Michael searches for the Captain. He stumbles over and grabs the old man by the arm.
"I've lost three," Michael says, "but we closed the tunnel."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Abdul is ready for a new day in Du Bois. Greta has left before him and he now has no more people to help him get around. As he walks through the hostel he gets glances from most guests and employees. Some even comment on his performance last night. He wants to get out of there as soon as possible.
As he steps out of the building his first thoughts are to get some breakfast. He is hungry like never before. He walks in the direction Greta took him last night, the restaurant district. There he finds a small place serving humus and flatbread for an acceptable price. He orders a healthy serving and pays the clerk. He notices he's low on money. He must have spend way more last night than he wanted. Another downer for this new day. How is he to get more money before his train leaves, he's been here one day and has blown his budget for almost his whole vacation. Then he remembers his conversation with the receptionist at the hostel. She said it was possible to get a working permit if he'd stay for more than one week. But he has to have a profession that's needed in town.
Abdul's breakfast is served in a to-go container. He asks the clerk if he knows where to get a working permit. The man is glad to give directions. He even draws them out on a piece of paper. Pleased with the prospect of earning some more spending money he sits down on a bench to eat his food.
An hour later Abdul stands in front of a building. He is standing on street level where the sun is bright after a long time underground. The door is open. He walks in and is greeted by a familiar face.
"Abdul! What a coincidence!" Hank, the guard who helped him earlier, is standing guard at the metal detector just inside the large hallway.
"Hank," Abdul greets him back, "how are you? I didn't expect you to be here."
"Ha," Hank laughs, "I can explain why I'm here, but you've just arrived in town. Why are you already in the immigration office? Planning to stay here after a good night out?"
Abdul flushes red again. His escapades have become city wide news as it seems. Hank claps him on the shoulder.
"I don't want to know what you did man," he says, "I bet it was memorable."
Abdul nods.
"Let me check your bag again," Hank says, "bought anything new since yesterday?"
Abdul, glad the subject changed, shakes his head.
"No," he answers, "just the same. My clothes are in the hostel so digging around should be easier."
Hank laughs at that and takes the bag from Abdul.
"Step through the detector please." Hank points at the metal gate.
Abdul steps through and nothing happens. Hank smiles and hands him his bag.
"All clear," he says, "take a right and there's the waiting room. Report to the lady waiting there. Her name is Patty. She'll help you further." With that he moves on to the next person waiting.
Abdul walks on to the waiting room. There a few dozen people are waiting, ranging from elderly women to young families and everything in between. Opposite the door he enters through is another door. Left of him is a window set in the wall. Behind it is a lady of indeterminable age and a sign that says "report here". She has a name tag with "Patty" buttoned on her jacket.
"Hi, I'd like to apply for a working permit please," Abdul asks a he steps up to the glass.
"Sure sweety," the lady smiles at him, "scan your chip there." She points at a reader in the corner. He holds his wrist against the reader until it beeps.
"Thank you," Patty says, "So, you want to apply for a working permit. You know you can only get it if you have a profession currently needed in Du Bois?"
"I know," Abdul answers, "I've been told."
"Good," Patty continues, "and you also know that you need to stay here for at least two weeks?"
"Yes, I know that too." Abdul is getting impatient.
"Good," Patty says again, "now please take a seat. You'll be called in when it's your turn."
"But," Abdul starts. He hasn't got a clue what's going to happen next.
"Next!" Patty shouts through the window. She looks past Abdul to the person behind him. The lady standing there pushes past Abdul and starts firing off questions at Patty.
Abdul turns to the other waiting people and finds an empty seat. Sitting there next to a man in his eighties and a women he doesn't want to touch he has no choice but to wait.
After what seems to be hours of waiting and countless people being called in by various Du Bois city employees Abdul's name is called. He almost dozed off and his name had to be called twice for him t
o react. He gets up and follows a balding man trough a door into another hallway. They follow it to the end and up a flight of stairs. There, halfway down the corridor, he enters a room, lets Abdul in and closes the door. In the room is a desk with a swivel chair and three basic stools around it. On the desk is a terminal, a picture frame and a few writing utensils. In the corner is a coat rack with one coat on it. The man sits down in the chair and points to one of the stools.
"Please take a seat, Abdul," he says, "may I call you Abdul?"
"Sure," Abdul answers and sits down on the middle stool.
"My name is Pieter," the man continues, "I am a immigration officer for the Du Bois City Council. My job here is to make sure the people who want to join us in our little community can and will contribute to our city."
Pieter punches a few keys on his terminal. He looks at Abdul.
"So, Abdul," he says, "you arrived yesterday, exchanged some Dinars and checked in at one of the hostels."
"How do you know all that?" Abdul asks, not in the least freaked out.
"Your wristband, it logs all activity," Pieter explains, "I can see everything you did. At least the things where you needed to use your chip."
"So, you know I went out for diner yesterday?" Abdul asks, not willing to go any further than that.
"Yes, and the things you did after," Pieter says with a smile, "And I also know that you are now low on credits. It that the reason for your visit here?"
"It is," Abdul confirms. He feels it's best to be honest about it. Thinking up lies never got him anywhere.
"And how do you want us to help you?"
"Well, I heard that I could work here if I get a permit and have skills that you need."
"That is true. But you won't get a working permit unless you pass several criteria."
"I was planning on staying two weeks, so that shouldn't be a problem, right?"
"Two weeks is the minimum and is determined by the time you need to get productive in your chosen profession. Speaking of which, what is your job at home?"
"At home I help my mother on our patch of land," Abdul answers, "We have a vegetable garden and grow anything that can grow in the season we're in. We also have a goat, but that's just for milk."
"So you're a farmer?" Pieter summarizes.
"I guess so." Abdul looks down to his hands in his lap. Growing produce isn't a sexy job and won't get you rich anytime soon. Unless there is a shortage of food. But in Al Bari you'll just be ordered to surrender what you have to the rulers and stand in line with coupons like the rest of the populous.
"Do you like your job?" Pieter asks.
"I do," Abdul looks up, "I like the way each type of plant needs a different approach to the best result possible. And for me taste trumps size."
Abdul's eyes light up. He tells more about how he's grown special types of rhubarb and how he managed to get things growing in the difficult earth in their patch. He also tells about the failure to get an apple tree going. Apples are always in short supply in Al Bari and he thought it would be a good extra income once a year. Telling about it makes him sad and he looks down at his hands again. He falls silent after the recount.
"Well, I can see your passion about farming," Pieter says, "You know, most people who enter my office to get a job here claim to be sales persons, technicians or even soldiers. But most just lie about what they really can and try to get the best paying job there is in Du Bois. But you, you tell me about your work at home and you show your passion about it. I like that. And as you probably have notices, food is expensive here. That's not because the restaurants need to make a lot of money but because the produce we get here is hard to grow. Did you see the large glass building in the middle of town?" Pieter asks Abdul.
Abdul nods.
"That is the greenhouse and farm," Pieter says, "Most food you can get here is from here and grown in that single building. We use special techniques to get as much surface for farming as possible. But, I keep on rambling about stuff I don't know about."
"I think I would like to see how you do it. Maybe I can learn from it and use it at home." Abdul is excited at the prospect of learning new tricks to maximize his farming.
"I did not yet tell you you'd get the working permit, did I?" Pieter says with a smile.
"No, you didn't," Abdul concedes, "and if I don't get it, I'll be going there anyway to check it out. I just have to cut my visit here short and go home tomorrow."
"Oh, I'm playing with you," Pieter laughs, "Farmers are always welcome and hard to come by. So if you want I'll give you a working permit. It'll be for a maximum of 8 weeks."
"8 weeks?" Abdul can't believe his luck.
"If you want to leave before the permit is up, it'll be annulled as soon as you leave the town. Should you come back you have to apply again."
"Sure! No problem!" Abdul says.
"One more thing," Pieter adds, "you have to be chipped."
"What?" Abdul asks. He's not pleased by the prospect of getting his hand cut open and some electrical device that he'll carry around for the rest of his life.
"It's a simple painless procedure and I can do it here for you. If you wait here I'll get the chipper." Pieter gets up from his chair and exits the room. Abdul starts fidgeting on his stool. He is exited by the idea of working in this town and learning more about his profession. But he is also wondering of what he'll be making in wages will cover the expenses he'd have to make to keep alive.
Pieter returns with a large device looking like a cross between a stapler and a gun. He connects it to his terminal and punches something in.
"So, this will be your chip," he explains, "I've programmed it with your credentials and transferred the data. If you'll let me, I'll put the chip in your wrist now."
Abdul looks at his hands in his lap. In one way it's a big step. He's going to put something in his body that shouldn't be there. But then it's also a step forward and it will make it easier for him to work here. Another plus is that should he want to come back, he'll be able to walk through security and not have to bother with getting another wristband.
"I'm ready," Abdul says and thrusts his hand over the desk. Pieter grabs it and pushes the business end of the chipper against Abdul's wrist. A soft click and a pinprick later the chip is embedded.
"You'll feel it there for the next few days," Pieter says, "You'll get used to it."
Abdul looks at his wrist. It's a bit sore where the metal touched his skin and he can feel something small inside. Some blood wells up. He wipes it away. As his thumb moves over the spot he can feel the chip moving inside. A chill runs up his spine.
"It feels strange, it moved," he says.
"As I said, you'll get used to it." Pieter puts down the chipper and sits down. Abdul grabs his wristband and looks at Pieter. He nods and Abdul breaks the band.
"So," Pieter continues, "lets talk jobs. You'd like to farm with us and you are used to growing just about anything?"
"Not anything," Abdul answers, "Just the produce I could grow in Al Bari. I've never had the opportunity to grow stuff like what they have in Africa."
"Oh yes," Pieter nods to himself, "the elusive pineapple."
"Pineapples?" Abdul's eyes open wide at the mention of the fruit that is so expensive that every farmer in the known world would like to grow at least one.
"Yes, you'd think they'd be extinct by now as with the temperature being so low. But we grow those." Pieter smiles at Abdul.
"Wow," Abdul is impressed, "that I want to see for myself."
"You will, maybe," Pieter says, "but I'll schedule you for a job interview with Meryam Abadi. She's one of the lead farmers at the vegetable sections."
Abdul nods his thanks.
"She'll expect you in an hour," Pieter continues, "is there anything else you need to know from me?"
Abdul thinks about what he was worrying about earlier.
"Well," he starts, "not to be rude, but how much will I make? I have got to eat and sleep somewhere."
"Thank you, Pieter," Abdul says and gets up from his stool.
"You're welcome," Pieter answers as he shakes Abdul's hand, "and welcome to Du Bois!"
Abdul walks up to the large glass structure. It's rectangular and about 15 stories high, one of the highest buildings in town. At the sides construction workers are busy setting up scaffolding. The whole building is devoid of any decorations, there is not even a plaque or name saying what the building's for. It's all just utilitarian by design. He walks up to the entrance and opens the door. The air is warm inside, more like what he's used to in Al Bari. He is greeted by a woman in coveralls behind a counter. Her warm smile beckons him over. He walks up to her.
"Hi, welcome at the farm," she says, "what can I do for you?"
"Hi, I'm Abdul Hamid Mikhail. I'm here for Meryam Abadi." Abdul looks at the woman in front of him, hoping that she's not Meryam and he's not making a fool out of himself.
"Oh yes," the woman says, "I'll call her down right now. If you'd like to wait over there." She points at a row of seats next to the entrance. Abdul sits down and looks around. The inside is much like the outside. It is a lot warmer though and Abdul opens his jacket. The room he's in is of a double height. At the second floor Abdul can see windows facing the inside of the entrance hall. There he sees people behind the glass with food and drink. It is midday so they are probably having lunch. To his left and right are big doors made from wood and glass. He can see stairwells behind both. From the left the doors open and a man walks through. He greets the lady behind the counter and exits the building. A few minutes pass and Abdul exchanges a smile with the receptionist. Then the left side doors open again and a woman enters. Abdul is stunned by the woman's appearance. Her curly brown hair is loose and flows down her shoulders. She's got a bit of greenery stuck in it, which looks cute. Her face is soft and round, as is her body. The coveralls she's wearing accentuate the round hips and full breasts. She walks towards him. Abdul looks behind her to see if someone else is following her, but she's alone.