Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  “Anything in there?” Jarod asked, waving a hand around.

  “Empty or full of trash.”

  Caspar led the way through a doorway to their left and towards a steel turnstile. Logan watched as red faced men pushed cargo boxes through an adjacent opening.

  They entered a rectangular room with creamy white walls. A steel elevator door covered the rear wall. On the left hand wall was a whiteboard with three hundred numbered hooks.

  “The personnel elevator,” Caspar said, pointing at the shutter. “We can take down standard loads, but any larger equipment needs to be dismantled.

  “What about the bigger stuff?” Jarod asked.

  “The old miners used to cut the top off vehicles then lower them down below the car. Anything is possible with ingenuity.”

  An audible buzz and red light announced the arrival of the elevator. Its battered steel door juddering as the carriage scraped to a stop. Caspar stepped forward and pulled back the shutter to expose an empty carriage, sheeted with stippled steel. Its surface reflected light intermittently between black smudges, smears and an accumulation of muck. Logan waited as boxes were stacked along one side.

  The car wobbled as he stepped onto the platform. It continued rocking as they slowly descended. The motor whined and wind screeched as they descended

  “How far down do we go?” Jarod shouted.

  “About six hundred feet. Takes ninety seconds,” Caspar said.

  “What’s the temperature like down there?” Logan asked.

  “It’s warmer than up there,” Caspar said, glancing upwards.

  Logan followed his gaze, shaking his head at the foolishness. With all the pressure of work both he and Jarod currently had, they were taking a trip down to a salt mine.

  The elevator slowed to a stop then jolted the group as it settled. Caspar pulled open the door and walked out. The waiting laborers set about moving the cargo, allowing Logan to walk into the mine.

  Compared to the winter weather outside, it was like walking into a heated building. Removing his coat and draping it over an arm, he stood opposite a dark grey rutted wall. It rose thirty feet to a flat rocky ceiling. His gaze followed the ceiling until he realized he was in an enormous cavern. The ground was smooth but uneven, rising and falling in a wave pattern.

  “What do you think?” Caspar asked.

  The wall was rough and sandy, leaving crumbs of stone and salt on his fingers. Logan followed the wall until a semi-circular opening appeared. Darkness stretched away inside. “It’s incredible.”

  To the right was an old brick faced building. Its markings suggested a disused electricity substation. Similar cave mouth type openings dotted the cavern walls. Some filled with coursed brick and a central double swing door. Others covered with thick grey sheets.

  “This is the largest cavern,” Caspar said. “The walls are stained with diesel fumes but essentially it’s habitable. It’ll be the main circulation area for food and day to day activities.”

  “How many people can we get down here?” Jarod asked.

  “Thousands. But we can only support a max of three hundred,” Caspar replied.

  Logan stared around the enormous area. Large cable drums lay on their sides to act as tables. Sections of conveyor belt links placed around them as chairs. There was room for a hundred people to sit.

  “What’s down there?” Jarod asked, pointing down the dark tunnel.

  “Accommodation and stores. I’m leaving that area for the army.”

  Caspar walked towards white double doors, gesturing for them to follow. The door swung open with a whoosh of air.

  “High pressure out in the mine and low pressure here,” Caspar shouted.

  The wind gently pushed at him as he walked across the threshold. Caspar let the door slam closed and the wind dropped.

  The tunnel was gloomy compared to the central cavern. Artificial light drained by the dark, as if hungrily absorbing the power. Rough cut spiky walls twinkled with rocksalt. A low uneven rock ceiling and sandy floor stretched away on either side. To their right, canvas partitions formed bays containing a peculiar collection of vehicles.

  “The workshop,” Caspar said, throwing out his arm.

  Behind the vehicle bays, an entrance door sat between two rocksalt columns. Inside was a large room with dusty timber floor, whitewash walls and ceiling. Grey steel racking down both flank walls. The racking was empty except for a scattering of vehicle parts and tires.

  “There’s another room to the rear,” Caspar said.

  Jarod opened the door to reveal another room as wide as the workshop but less deep. He turned to Logan and smiled.

  “Use this as a base of operations.” Caspar said.

  “I’ll need to make an inventory of what we have and a list of what we need. How much power do you have?” Jarod asked.

  “Two generators but not enough fuel to keep them both running.”

  “Can we take a look at the ventilation system?” Jarod asked.

  “I haven’t familiarized myself with it yet.”

  “I’ve done some research,” Logan said. “One shaft brings the air in and fans push it along ventilation and dewatering tunnels. These condense excess moisture and the rock face stabilizes the air temperature. But it needs an assisted airflow. Are there any boosters?”

  “Have you got any schematics?” Jarod asked.

  “Guys, please,” Caspar said, holding up his hands and backing away. “I’ve brought you in for this reason. You have my full authority to interrogate the whole engineering operation. Implement what you must to give us power and air.”

  “The only way we can provide enough power without an enormous fuel dump would be with a nuclear generator,” Jarod said.

  “If we took one of those we’d face prison,” Logan added.

  “We’re all in the same position,” Caspar said. “Those of us who risk our lives to make this happen are taking the biggest gamble of our lives. It’s now or never.”

  Logan looked across at Jarod. Despite what he said earlier, he knew Jarod’s feelings about the plant. The idea of him stealing a generator was absurd.

  As if sensing his thoughts, Jarod turned to face them. “Any of those vehicles work?”

  “I’ve had two Jeeps reconditioned. There are one and seventy miles of tunnels down here. I haven’t even been in a tenth of the mine yet,” Caspar replied.

  “Let’s see some more then,” Jarod said.

  Caspar started a Jeep, Logan and Jarod taking seats in the rear. They drove away from the workshop, a short distance along the tunnel then stopped. The light was almost completely gone. Only two headlight beams surrounded by utter darkness. Their Jeep faced another door between rock salt columns.

  Caspar turned to face them, pointing over his shoulder. "The grid pattern of mining allowed construction of storage rooms between support columns."

  "All these were already here?" Jarod asked.

  “This was a deepstore, already a controlled environment,” Caspar said, sliding out of the Jeep and clicking on a hand torch. “There’s twenty other deepstores but we haven’t finished them all yet. There are also three refuge areas. The closest is being utilized by Rich for his hospital.”

  Logan entered through a double door opening. Caspar switched on a light inside, illuminating a central corridor. Set along each wall were three doors. Logan opened the first door on his left. The dim rectangular room inside gave off a faint paint smell. The floor was rough stone but with drywall and a false ceiling it had a ‘garage’ feel. In the centre of the room, sections of connected conveyor belt were laid out like beds.

  “We started with basic infrastructure in the central cavern. Since then we concentrated on accommodations. This is for your families,” Caspar said.

  Jarod squeezed past Caspar and gave the room an inspection. “Not luxury, but some rugs and soft furnishings would make it comfortable.”

  They could actually pull this off with enough time and resource. Logan gazed ar
ound the accommodation again. “Ingenious use of conveyor belt.”

  Jarod nodded his approval.

  “Years ago, they stored all kinds of things here,” Caspar said, climbing back into the jeep. “Police evidence, statues, paintings, jewels even warheads.”

  “What happened?”

  “Flooding. After that they pulled it all out.”

  They drove through an opening covered with translucent plastic sheeting. It slapped and dragged against the Jeep as it inched through.

  “What are those plastic sheets for?” Jarod asked.

  “Brattice curtains to section off parts of the mine. They get stuck sometimes when you drive through.”

  He made three left hand turns, pointing out other accommodation blocks set into the walls. Then they were in a narrow tunnel, on a bumpy road that rose and fell. The Jeep’s suspension groaned in sync with the undulating floor level.

  Conveyor belt stretched ahead into the distance, missing sections like bite marks on the line. At the end of the haphazard conveyor belt stood a large steel drilling machine. Its toothed arm rested on the ground.

  Caspar parked the Jeep, and slid out. Logan and Jarod followed him out into the mine. The sounds of closing doors and their footsteps were smothered by the insulating rock.

  A figure had been carved into the rock face wall. Logan ran his torch across the sculpture and pointed it out to Jarod. “Han Solo frozen in carbonite.”

  Caspar walked around the digging machine, his torch scanning the surface. “This was a working shaft until the mine closed.”

  “Impressive” Jarod said, touching the machine’s arm.

  Logan gave it a cursory glance, distracted by tiny particles in the headlights. Thick smoky air flowed in a constant stream. It swirled like water when he moved his hand through.

  “I need your commitment to the project,” Caspar said.

  His words hung in the thick air. They were pronounced with a measured intensity. Logan stared up at him then around at the darkness, they could easily go missing down here. No one knew where they were and deep in the mine they wouldn’t be heard. If Caspar left them now, they’d be stranded.

  “I’ll get working on the designs,” Logan said. “But if we take a generator then we’re condemned.”

  “It’s possible we can get it away without anyone knowing,” Jarod said.

  Logan gave a double take in his direction. Jarod could be sensing the same danger and be pacifying Caspar.

  “I’m putting my trust in you. The success of this operation depends on you, don’t let me down,” Caspar said.

  “We’re not leaving here to steal a generator. We’ll work on the other systems for the time being,” Logan said.

  “I want to start moving people into the mine fulltime by next week. We’re all taking risks. If you want the safety of this mine, you need to bring the generator.”

  Logan opened his mouth to speak but could think of no words. This was a trap, he was baited and only one reply would placate Caspar. He stared into his friends dark brown eyes.

  Jarod walked slowly between them. “Back to the top then, there’s only so long I can bear it down here.”

  Caspar turned and walked to the vehicle, Logan didn’t risk a glance at Jarod.

  So there it was.

  Logan had been brought in not for his analytical or engineering skills. He was brought in to steal a generator.

  The Jeep bumped and squealed back towards the workshop, jabbing at the silence inside. Caspar parked outside the workshop then led them back to the central cavern. He guided them past the old electrical substation and down the tunnel. Strip lights flickered into life as they walked deeper into the passage. Along the both walls, rows of stacked materials stretched far off into the distance.

  “This is how serious we are,” Caspar said, pointing at the racking. He turned and marched back to the central cavern.

  Jarod gave a low whistle.

  Logan wandered along the row of boxes and plastic containers. There were large sacks of pasta, rice, oats, dried beans and peas. Industrial sized cans of salmon, tuna, soup, hotdogs and fruit. Jars of peanut butter, pickles and apple sauce. Bags of nuts, coffee, tea and powdered milk. On the opposite side, crates of water barrels stacked floor to ceiling led off into the distance.

  Logan shook his head in amazement. “This is incredible.”

  They waited for an elevator in silence, Logan considering the work he needed to do over the next week. He tried to avoid thinking of the generator. He couldn’t blame Caspar for asking him. But their relationship had fractured.

  “We have a meet tonight at Rich’s place, can you make it?” Caspar asked.

  Logan turned to see the question directed at him and not Jarod. “There’s a curfew.”

  “A military SUV will pick you up. Eight okay?”

  Logan nodded. “How did you get the military onboard?”

  “They aren’t officially. I know an officer with a similar world view. He has around fifty soldiers. They’re tight.”

  Sweating men hauled another load of supplies out of the elevator and into a minivan. It drove towards the food stores and disappeared from view. Jarod pulled the door closed, leaving Caspar staring off into the mine.

  Logan breathed easier as the elevator ascended, rising away from the claustrophobic pressure of the mine. In its place, Caspar’s deception weighed on him. He fingered the escape ladder, caked in dirt and leading to the top of the carriage.

  “Can we do it?” Logan said, to himself but Jarod caught the question.

  “You’re the brains. It’s a risk but if we don’t act now, we might well have front row seats for an apocalypse.”

  “I’ll go to the meeting tonight and brief you tomorrow. In the meantime, I want someone we can trust to head this up. Get him here fulltime from tomorrow.”

  “Sean?”

  Logan snorted. “Can you imagine Sean and Caspar down there together? He’s a great tech but totally unreliable.”

  “He does what I tell him, don’t worry about his reliability. He is without doubt the best problem solver in the plant. I trust him.”

  “If he winds us up the wrong way you need to be on him like a sledgehammer.”

  #

  The door chime interrupted Adam and Gregor complaining about going to bed. They’d thrown every possible distraction trying to negotiate minutes more downstairs.

  “Can we come?” Adam said.

  “No, you’re going to bed,” Cate said, hauling him up the stairs.

  “Don’t wait up honey, night boys.”

  A uniformed solider waited inside an SUV, parked outside his house. Logan made a brief glance in either direction to see of any neighbours were watching.

  “Evening sir, this way please,” the soldier said.

  Al Fox sat in the front passenger seat. He raised a hairy hand at Logan as he passed the window. Fox was older than Logan by ten years, his weatherworn face and grey hair made him appear even older. They met frequently in social gatherings but had no direct contact with each other.

  He didn’t recognize the woman sat on the back seat. She was very attractive, possibly late twenties. Slim and tall with shoulder length black hair, warm brown eyes and a relaxed smile.

  “Hi, Logan is it? I’m Heather Sands,” she said.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said, shaking her outstretched hand.

  “How ya doing Logan,” Fox said.

  “Good, busy as usual,” he replied, thinking of the incongruity at the situation.

  They drove in silence. An unspoken agreement not to mention the reason for their journey. Rich Sarin lived at the northern edge of Lysander, in an enormous detached house with views over the countryside. The SUV pulled up on a driveway behind two silver Mercedes cars. One large and one small. Rich and his wife Sally personified.

  The door opened and Rich appeared, dressed in a blue tracksuit and holding up a hand in greeting. “Namaste, come in.”

  The SUV crawl away then in
creased speed as it raced into the distance.

  He was in for a long night.

  Rich led them through the wood paneled entrance hall and into his dining room. At the head of the table, Caspar sat dressed in a black polo neck, looking like James Bond. His piebald patch of hair stood out against the black jumper.

  Next to Caspar sat a uniformed soldier. Brown hair cropped close to his head and a wolfish face. His eyes flicked across Logan and the others as they entered the room. Rich brought up the rear holding a tray of coffee and cakes.

  “Take your seats,” Caspar said.

  The room seemed sparse with only six people. He’d been in this dining room when the table was full, once with eighteen people. Tonight it lay bare except for glasses of water and paper pads in front of each allocated space.

  “Welcome all. Thanks to doc Sarin for his kind hospitality.”

  Rich gave a smiling head wobble. An annoying habit he used to appear modest or humble. He offered each person a coffee and slice of cake. Logan accepted and munched on the cake immediately.

  Before we get started, I’d like us all to get to know one another. I’m Caspar Outama, a cyber security consultant for Exspiravit. Rich?”

  “Hello everyone, I’m Doctor Richard Sarin. I’ve been an MD for twelve years.”

  “My name is Doctor Heather Sands. Clinical psychologist with a background in mediation. I’m looking forward to meeting you all.” Her soft measured voice filled the room without effort.

  “Al Fox, store manager,” Fox said. His crusty voice was deeper and faster than the first two. He snapped out a piece of chewing gum and popped it into his mouth.

  “Good evening, I’m Captain Jason Skillet.” His words were bitten off and spat out as if they were distasteful. Skillet seemed nervous in front of the group. He was tall and lean, sitting stiff backed with a hawk like gaze flickering around the group.

  Finally all heads around the table turned towards Logan. “Hi.” Logan waved then dropped his hand in embarrassment. “My name is Logan Quinn. I’m Operations Manager at Nine Mile.”

  “Your presence here is a confirmation of willingness to be a part of the salt mine project. Known from here as Project Melbourn,” Caspar said. He raised his glass of water in salute to the table.