by Bob Finley
"Wonder how much this stuff 'd hock for?" weasel-face wondered aloud.
His buddy gave him a look of disgust. "How woudja git it outta here?" he asked derisively.
"I dunno. But it'd prob’ly be worth a buncha money."
"Come on. Let's check out the rest 'o this tunnel and git back downstairs. I'm hungry."
"You're always hungry!"
Kim was forty feet from the short tunnel leading to the computer room when he saw the two moving shadows fall on the floor and opposite wall of the main tunnel. Though he'd heard nothing, he whirled and dashed back the way he'd just come.
"What was that?!" the big guard hissed, grabbing his partner and holding him still.
They both stood without moving, almost without breathing, for better than five seconds.
"I don't hear nothin'."
"Shh! Lissen! Hear that?!"
"What? What?!"
"Footsteps!" the guard decided. "Somebody's runnin' down the tunnel!"
Galvanized into action, they both bolted for the main tunnel. But when they got there, foolishly dashing out into the open, there was no one in sight.
The smaller guard looked at his friend as if he'd lost his senses.
"Whaddaya talkin' about? They ain't nobody here!"
"I'm tellin' ya'. I heard somebody runnin'. Come on!"
He started down the tunnel, more alert now and weapon at the ready. His demeanor spooked his buddy, who fell in behind him, moving with exaggerated care.
Down the tunnel, Kim first stopped at the entrance to the maintenance room and then, on second thought, ran quickly around the bend and dashed to the chained gate. He'd heard their voices behind him now and, from the excitement in them, was sure he'd been discovered.
Grabbing the metal gate, he jerked on it a couple of times and slapped the chain against it. Then he ran madly back to the bend, risked a quick look around it and, seeing no one, again dashed to the entrance to the maintenance room. This time, he ran inside and sought refuge instinctively behind the air compressor where the sewage pipe disappeared into the floor. He laid down flat on the floor and concentrated on controlling his heavy breathing which he knew would give him away if the guards came into the room.
Walking softly now, since they'd both heard the sound of metal on metal somewhere down the tunnel, they came to the maintenance room. They paused, and then the larger guard motioned for his friend to stay put while he eased on down to the bend in the tunnel. When he saw the metal gate and chain farther along, he was presented with a dilemma. The noise had more than likely come from there. But, to protect their backs, he knew they also had to check out the other room. Finally, he motioned for his friend to check out the maintenance room while he went ahead and checked on the gate up ahead.
Kim wasn't sure he heard the guard enter the chamber, but he knew he was there, nevertheless. He instinctively ducked his head closer to the floor and waited.
"What am I going to do if he looks back here?" he asked himself.
"And he will look back here. He has to. There aren't that many places to hide in here."
Holding the Uzi rigidly in front of himself, the uniformed man worked his way through the room, his eyes never still, his breath coming in shallow gulps as he tried to calm his fear, yet make no noise.
He looked behind the head-high control consoles along the side wall, jumping at the sudden ‘clunking’ of switches opening and closing in random chatter.
He looked all around the desalinization tanks and compressor pumps at the rear of the room, the gurgling of the water passing through the pipes and trickling into the collection vessel distressing. He knew its sounds could mask those of a hunted man and cost him the edge he needed, especially without his partner to cover him.
He worked his way back down the other side wall of the chamber and came to a row of three large, cylindrical air compressor cylinders bolted to the floor. He could see there was a space of two or three feet between them and the wall behind them. If anybody was going to be in the room, they'd have to be there...he'd looked everywhere else. Tightening his grip on his weapon, he took a deep breath and wormed his way between two of the cylinders. He pointed the machine pistol downward at a forty-five degree angle and side-stepped into the space.
There was nothing there. He squatted down and peered the length of the space. Nothing. He sighed in relief and was about to turn away when he noticed the hole in the floor. That was odd. Moving closer, he understood. What looked to be a black PVC sewage pipe of some kind disappeared into the hole. What held his attention was the fact that the pipe was only six inches in diameter, but the hole was more like two or three feet wide. Curious, he moved closer and realized that there seemed to be hot air flowing from it. A lot of hot air. And it stunk! What was that smell, sulfur? Taking his flashlight from his belt, he moved to the edge of the hole, switched on the light, and stuck his arm down into the blackness to get a better look.
With his body wedged tightly three feet down into the shaft from which he'd so recently escaped, Kim was bracing himself with all his might. From the darkness of his hidey hole, Kim's heart almost exploded when he saw the guard move to the opening. Then his fear changed to terror when he saw the guard unclip his flashlight. He heard the click as it was turned on. And in the next instant he made the transition from flight to fight. As the guard's arm thrust into the space and light flooded it, Kim instinctively reached up, grabbed the man's wrist, and jerked with as much force as his precarious position allowed. But it was enough.
The startled guard, already leaning forward and off balance, pitched headfirst into the shaft, too shocked to even make a sound, and collided with Kim, knocking him loose from his perch. Both men fell. Knowing the parameters of the chimney from having climbed it, Kim threw out his arms and legs into a rigid, spread-eagle position, and clawed desperately for any rough surface that presented itself. He checked his fall ten feet down. The guard wasn't so lucky. He grunted once, then again, as he struck the rocky sides of the shaft and then, mercifully, crushed his skull where the chimney curved before it opened up and emptied into the cavern eighty feet below, for the final free-fall into a welling lake of bubbling lava that welcomed the addition to its source of fuel.
Kim, his breath coming in sobs, finally managed to turn his body upright and scramble up the chimney. Before he did, though, he couldn't help noticing the orange, flickering glow in the shaft below him. The lava must be seventy or eighty feet deep down there now, and about to reach the shaft. Clambering out the hole above was far easier this time. But the horror of the guard's death, and his own near-miss, almost engulfed him. On his hands and knees, his breathing and thudding heart gradually subsided. And with it, the reality of his situation. He'd heard more than one voice as he'd run down the tunnel. But only one guard had entered the room. That meant...maybe...that his ruse of rattling the chain had worked. But not for long. Unless the guard who probably went to investigate the gate had a gate key, he'd be back here any second. Or calling in reinforcements. He had to move.
He forced himself to rise from his hands and knees to a crouch. That's when he saw the gun. It was lying on the floor a few feet away. Apparently the guard he'd dragged into the shaft had thrown it down to instinctively grab for the edge of the hole. He recovered it and looked at it to see if he knew how to operate it. He didn't. He'd just have to hope that the guard, being alerted and hunting him, had readied the weapon for use.
"Marvin!"
The voice came from just outside the room. The other guard must be coming back! And looking for his buddy! Kim ducked down behind the compressor and tried to be small.
"Marvin!!" The voice was impatient and closer.
"Marvin, this ain't no time to play games!" The man was in the room. Kim could hear him breathing from his walk up the corridor. Could ‘see’ him in his mind scanning the room. Becoming watchful. Becoming suspicious. He could hear the sound of the man's uniform as the pants legs rubbed together, slowly. Stealthily. Kim's grip t
ightened on the stock of the weapon, wondering whether he might have to actually fire it. Wondering whether it would fire if he tried. Wondering if he could.
"Marvin." The voice had moved. The name was a question, spoken quietly. The guard was middle way the room. Probably looking around. Crouching, trying to see under things. Still not sure whether his buddy was waiting to jump out at him and afraid that he would. Even more afraid that he wouldn't.
"You son of a...if you're in here, I'm gonna beat your..." Mumbling. Moving. Searching.
With painfully slow motions, Kim began to gather his arms and legs under him so he could rise to his hands and knees. Then to his knees. Careful not to scrape the gun against the floor or the metal cylinder to his left. Trembling. Very slowly, he pulled his right foot forward and under him. Then the other. Holding his breath, he ever-so-slowly rose to a crouch, hoping his abused knees wouldn't pop and give him away. Finally, he risked a half-second glimpse out from behind his cover, sure that the guard would be looking straight at him and shoot him dead.
But he wasn't. The guard, who looked to be in his forties, over six feet tall, and rough-complexioned, was at the far end of the room, trying to peer over behind one of the desalinization tanks and bothered as much by the distillation noises as Kim had been. Kim knew that as soon as the guard made his turn at the far right corner of the room, he'd be in the man's peripheral vision. If it had to be, then it had to be now.
He looked at the floor, deciding where he would put his feet, and quickly moved through the narrow space between the cylinders. He self-consciously faced the guard and raised the weapon he was holding to what he thought would be a convincing stance. His throat was dry and he could hear his own pulse.
"Stay where you are!" he commanded. Well, ‘commanded’ was perhaps an overstatement. To his own ears, he sounded weak and scared. Probably because he was weak and scared.
The man at the far end of the room jerked and his body went rigid. He started to turn, as did his weapon.
"Don't turn around!" Kim warned, in a voice whose harshness was supposed to cover up the fear.
The guard instantly stopped moving, as if someone had hit his ‘pause’ button.
"In case you're wondering, I have your friend Marvin's gun."
The man turned his head ever so slightly in Kim's direction. It was a moment before he spoke.
"Where's Marvin?" he asked in a strangely conversational tone.
"Where he can't cause any trouble," Kim answered carefully, fearful of what the big man's reaction might be if he found out his friend was dead. And that Kim had been the cause of it. The thought of his responsibility sent a sudden and unexpected shock through him. It hadn't really occurred to him until this moment.
"He's dead, ain't he? 'Ja kill him?"
"No," Kim impulsively answered, flustered. "He fell."
"Fell?! Where?!"
"Down a hole."
The guard turned another quarter turn in Kim's direction. Kim, alarmed, thrust the old Israeli machine pistol in the man's direction and widened his stance instinctively.
"Hold it!! I told you not to turn around!"
The guard stopped moving his body. But now he was able to swivel his head, however awkwardly, until he could look at Kim.
"You know how to use that, boy?"
"Yeah. I pull the trigger. The gun does the rest." Kim noticed that the muzzle of the weapon he was holding seemed to have a mind of its own. It kept wandering off what he wanted it to point at.
The man's eyes were cold and dead. They searched him, exposing his fear and his vulnerability. He snorted disdainfully.
"Yeah, it might. If you had the safety off."
A thrill of panic speared his heart. Safety?!
The guard was sure now. An ugly grin split his face.
"Put that gun down, boy, and I'll letcha live."
Kim tore his eyes from the weapon and riveted them on the guard. He was sure the man had turned another six inches in his direction. He wasn't going to be able to hold him.
He raised the ugly piece to shoulder level and tightened his grip on it. He could still see the barrel shaking. He knew then he was going to have to make the first move. He hoped it wasn't his last.
"Drop that weapon or I'll kill you where you stand!" he warned.
The man stared hard at him for several seconds. Then he slowly shook his head.
"No, you won't. You don't have what it takes to look a man in the eyes and kill him in cold blood. Not a wimp like you."
"You turn one more inch in this direction and you're going to get a chance to find out. Now, put down that weapon!"
"The guard didn't move.
"Do it now!!" Kim yelled at him.
Surprised, the guard jumped and, for a moment, it looked like he would do as he was told. But then Kim saw his face harden and saw the resolve in his eyes, and he knew what was coming next. He just didn't know it would come so fast.
The guard's arm was a blur as he brought the machine pistol wildly around, holding it chest high, the muzzle arcing down toward Kim.
Kim knew the instant the guard moved that he had no choice. Pulling the trigger was natural and reflexive. He was concentrating so on the position of the guard's gun as it tracked him that when his own went off he almost didn't notice. He was surprised when the recoil forced the barrel upward, raking the room with firepower.
The deafening noise and brilliance of the two muzzle flashes startled him so that he never even thought to take cover. Showers of sparks leaped from the metal cylinders and stone floor as bullets ricocheted all around both men, smashing gauges, rupturing tubing, and stitching the desalinization tanks with gaping holes which immediately began to spurt streams of water.
Not all the projectiles missed their intended targets. Because Kim was already braced head-on to his opponent, even though he had never before fired an automatic weapon, the sheer volume of lead laid down by the gun made it almost impossible to miss. The guard was flung backwards by the high-velocity impact of four bullets, as he was struck almost simultaneously in the right thigh, the aorta just below his breastbone, the left biceps, and the throat. The fact that he got off a sustained burst was solely because of a reflexive spasm of his right hand when he was hit. He was dead within moments of hitting the floor, a look of surprise still on his face.
His ears ringing from the assault of noise in the acoustically ‘hard’ room, Kim was stunned to find himself still standing. And just as stunned to realize that the guard wasn't. He looked down, expecting to find that he was missing body parts, or dumping his life's blood onto the cold, stone floor. But, as far as he could tell, he was untouched.
Emotion hit like a tidal wave and he staggered. The gun clattered to the floor and his legs gave way. He was unexpectedly on his knees, fighting waves of nausea and dizziness. He gasped for breath, his face feeling flushed and the room appeared to be far away and dim. Finally, as though a curtain lifted, his vision returned and he felt his pulse slowing. Still weak, he gulped several deep breaths of air and sat completely still for several seconds, his head hanging limply on his chest. Reality rudely returned, urging him to get up and get moving.
But the sudden, long blast of noise that assailed him from somewhere down the tunnel shocked him into immobility and he froze. Though his ears were still ringing, he'd heard that sound so recently that he couldn't help but recognize it, even distorted by echoes. It was the sound of gunfire! His friends had to be the cause of it. Why else would there be shooting? He was suddenly struck with horror at the possibility that his friends were being executed for helping him escape.
He struggled shakily to his feet and looked around. In spite of all the furor, he was alone. It occurred to him that if Jambou or Banner heard the racket, they'd probably assume he'd been found and killed. They certainly wouldn't have believed that he could have survived an attack by those two armed goons who'd been sent after him.
So he'd bought a little time. He swiftly crossed the room and looked do
wn at the guard he'd killed. He shivered, amazed at the amount of blood that had come from one man. But one thing was for sure...this one wouldn't be coming after him. Or the one who'd...
The shockwave of the earthquake caught him by surprise, but didn't terrify him as it once had. This one threw him to the floor but he watchfully waited it out. He could imagine the fissure down below widening even more, becoming a raging torrent of lava, rushing to fill the cavern from which he'd escaped, and then...
He jumped up, filled with an urgent need to hurry. The others didn't know how bad things really were, though Frank had warned them, and it was up to him to help find a way out of here. Soon! He pulled the transceiver out and turned it back on. He knew he couldn't be far now from Leo's hot breath. Somehow it didn't scare him like it had earlier. He'd faced death so many times in the past couple of hours he'd become numb to the threat. What he had to do now was to get himself and his friends out of this ticking bomb before it killed them all. He didn't know just how, yet, but for some reason he felt more optimistic than any time since their arrival that they were somehow going to survive this ordeal, one way or another.
He scooped up the Uzi with its half-magazine of ammo still intact, and hurried toward the exit tunnel. He had work to do.
Behind him, in the maintenance room, the needle on a gauge was almost imperceptibly beginning to drop. It monitored the main trunk line for the compressor. The compressor that created the positive air pressure that kept the sea from flooding the entire undersea mountain. The drive belt for the motor that drove the compressor lay in tatters on the floor, an unseen casualty of the firefight. The motor was still capable of operating, but it could no longer turn the compressor flywheel. The backup unit was useless, having been taken off line for routine maintenance. With a killer computer ahead of him and a volcano with a terminal case of acid reflux in its belly behind him, it was just as well Kim Matsumoto didn't know that every breath he took could, literally, be his last.
