Eximus

by Marcus Wearmouth

  Rich nodded and took a seat opposite. “It won’t be worth anything if we end up in chaos here as well.”

  “Which is why I’ve been studying everything Caspar laid out.”

  He passed Rich the manual and watched him devour the first page. “Sean, can you bring Sergeant Ortiz, Heather Sands and Al Fox here immediately.

  Rich continued reading the manual while Logan made tea and brought in a packet of cookies.

  “We need to talk about my resources here,” Rich said, looking up from the manual to sip his tea.

  “Can’t it wait for the others?”

  “I told you I needed power to get all the meds in storage. By the time we were ready, the police had removed all my stores.”

  “Well what’s missing?”

  “It’s not as easy as that.”

  Logan munched another cookie and took a mouthful of tea. “We’re on our own Rich. You’re the doctor.”

  They both looked towards the door at the sound of approaching engines. The tension between them ebbed away at the sound of footsteps. Logan rose to greet the visitors with the manual tucked under his arm.

  Jarod was the first into the corridor, greeting Logan with a nod. Al Fox came next offering his chunky hand as he passed. Heather Sands entered in a whispered conversation with Sergeant Ortiz.

  Seated around the table, all faces turned towards him as he laid out Caspar’s manual. Their eyes bored into him, tapping lines from his inner strength to suck it towards them.

  “We made it,” he said.

  Rich cleared his throat for attention. “So what happened to Caspar?”

  “There was a fire fight at the entrance,” Logan said. “Caspar called Jason and told him he wasn’t going to make it. Jason was going to take command but...”

  “But what?” Rich prompted.

  Logan was still coming to terms with Jason’s violent death. The back of his head ripped away, only feet from where he crouched. He refocused on the room and Rich’s questioning face. “He was shot dead in front of me.”

  “There should be an election then, let us decide on a leader,” Rich said.

  “There’s no time for that. Logan’s our man,” Al Fox said, to general agreement in the room.

  “We have an enormous task ahead of us and it all starts from this room.” Logan said, looking around the table. “Each person here represents a group in the mine. Together we form a committee to administer and manage things.”

  “Can I see Caspar’s manual?” Heather asked.

  Logan passed her the folder and she scanned the first few pages. Ortiz and Fox leaning towards her and craning their necks to look.

  “Caspar recommends we stay here for two years,” Logan said.

  “Two years.” Al Fox repeated.

  “I don’t know what type of bombs landed,” Ortiz said. There could be a nuclear winter if the sun is blocked out by dust clouds. Radiation levels could be lethal.”

  “We just don’t know, so as a working time period we use two years,” Logan said.

  “Do we have enough food?” Heather asked.

  “Let’s start at the beginning,” Logan cut in, before Fox could reply. “According to the manual, each one of you is to head up an area of operation. I don’t expect you to have all information yet, so prepare a list of all your personnel with a rota for their daily duties. Heather, I need you to find out exactly who we have here.”

  “I suggest you make a speech sooner rather than later. There are a lot of scared and confused people, me included,” Heather said.

  “Jarod, can you set up a speaker system in the central cavern. In the meantime, find out the information and we reconvene here in four hours.”

  Rich disappeared followed by Heather and Ortiz. Fox lingered until Logan moved him towards the door. Jarod remained. His shirt wet with patches under his arms and across his chest. He seemed older in the bright light of the meeting room, dark circles below bloodshot eyes.

  “You okay?” Logan asked.

  “I’ve been running around like a hare since we got here. And this place,” he said, trailing off.

  “Let’s get the PA rigged and we can all have some rest.”

  Jarod sneezed and rubbed his nose. “Somehow I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”

  “I’m going to check the generator. Send someone down when you’re ready.”

  Patting his friend on the back, Logan made his way to the Jeep. He dropped Jarod at the workshop to begin work on the PA system.

  The fusion power generator was positioned in the ground along a wide tunnel. A fine dust already covered the silver boxing of the direct conversion unit. Logan wiped the top with his sleeve before opening the control panel. He entered a code to commence self diagnostics.

  As the panel flashed with activity, he considered the words he could use in addressing the salt mine people. He needed to be upbeat and optimistic, without appearing casual. He practiced emphasizing certain words to give a message of hope.

  Logan looked up at the sound of monster noises and screams in the tunnel. Sean appeared, walking with his torch held like a lightsaber. “All set for you.”

  “That was quick.”

  “Already had the PA system installed, just had to build you a stage.”

  Logan’s heart beat faster as he climbed into the jeep. Sean slid into the passenger seat and they headed back to the workshop.

  “Know what you’re gonna say?” Sean asked.

  “Try to be positive, look confident.”

  “I’d get changed first. You don’t want them to think you’re a hobo.”

  Logan pulled a dirty flap of cloth into position over his knee. “You’re right.”

  Cate and the boys were gone when he arrived at their accommodation pod. He stripped off the suit pants and shirt, stuffed them in a trash bag. Opened his suitcase and pulled out a pair of blue jeans and a checked shirt.

  He buttoned the shirt as he edged out of the pod. Sean was waiting by the wind tunnel door. It already seemed to be a bridge between parts of the mine. A simple white smudged entrance that acted like an air lock. Endless mine tunnels on one side and their domesticated area on the other.

  Hundreds of people turned towards him, as he pushed through the door into the central cavern.

  A sea of faces.

  He subconsciously smoothed down his hair and chewed his lip. Most he had never even met. Parents held their children close, groups of men watched with narrowed eyes. Pockets of uniformed soldiers stood with weapons slung and helmets removed.

  Logan made a beeline towards his technical team. They had constructed a podium made of circular cable drums and fitted it with a rail.

  Before he began to climb the steps, Fox tugged his arm. “I’ve prepared an emergency ration distribution. Tell them to form an orderly queue. Everyone gets the same. No need to rush.”

  He squeezed Fox’s arm in acknowledgement then climbed the steps. Keeping his head down and listening as the rhythm of conversation slowed. Looking down at the receding timber steps, he knew this would be the most important speech of his life.

  On the raised platform, a microphone cable lay over the side of a timber rail. Logan scanned the crowd, muddy light reflecting from their faces. The dry atmosphere of the mine steaming, as hundreds of bodies breathed out vapor and sweated.

  “My name is Logan Quinn.”

  Chapter 13

  A wisp of air blew across her neck, tickling her ear and raising goose bumps. Avery opened unfocused eyes and turned towards the sound of rustling leaves. A dense forest loomed over her. Its thick brown trunks and spider web branches choked her view inside. Above the cracked and bumpy bark, a blurry green canopy danced in the wind. Its daubed watercolors shifted between olive, emerald and jade. She tried to walk but couldn’t move. Her legs were gone, replaced with a thick brown tree trunk. Her arms were branches. Hundreds of stiff branches locked into position.

  Avery jerked awake on her bed. No clue what time or even what day it was. T
he dream pulled at her then faded as she tried to recall details. As the dream evaporated, she was left with an ethereal feeling. Like losing someone or forgetting something important.

  The bunker.

  She was Commander of Bunker twenty two.

  The realization brought her to action. Throwing back the cover and rolling out of bed.

  There was something different. She looked down at her naked body, snorting at the confusion. Her T shirt and shorts were gone.

  There was no sign of any tossed off clothes around the bed or under the covers. Shaking her head and rubbing her face, she reached down to straighten the bed sheets but her hand remained hovering over the yellow fabric.

  The ruffled bed cover was the only thing that gave the place any kind of lived-in feel. It was her personal space, an island inside the steel and concrete bunker. She left it in position, a lumpy, twisted blanket over the clean white mattress.

  Her bedside clock read zero five hundred. An early start, but she would be ready in the command centre before all the others.

  In the shower pod, she picked up her toothbrush and toothpaste. Her reflection gazed back in the mirror, a knowing look in its brown eyes.

  Good Morning Commander Avery.

  She smiled and squirted toothpaste onto a toothbrush. There was a plentiful supply of shampoos, creams and soaps lining the vanity unit. Packaging unopened, only one bottle of shampoo missing. She switched on the shower and turned her face up towards the spray. It reminded her of another time, a more distant memory.

  Adjusting to life in a bunker wasn’t hard but it wasn’t easy. Living below ground cut you off from the world, even surrounded by hundreds of other people.

  At least the headache was gone.

  The kitchen was spotless and smelt clean of fresh linen. She selected a strong coffee pod and started the machine. With a steaming cup of black coffee, she sat looking around the lounge area. It was like a hotel room when you first walk in.

  Leaning back she let out a satisfied sigh. Two more years of this would recharge her batteries.

  She flicked on the flexi to review her schedule for the coming day. Its large white digital date display flashed at her, before requesting handprint security confirmation. Hairs on the back of her neck rose and her eyes widened.

  That has to be wrong.

  The screen date was screwed, indicating she’d been in the bunker for eleven months. The blue home screen appeared with the same date in the bottom corner.

  Shaking her head, she scrolled the log going back days, weeks then months. It detailed her reports on organizational, training and disciplinary matters. Lists of education plans, maintenance plans, intelligence reports and capability assessments.

  It had to be wrong.

  Controlling her breathing, she scanned the room for confirmation of passed time. Lockdown was initiated only one week ago and her sparse accommodation seemed to support that. The small quarters offered no visual proof of occupation for a week or a year.

  She searched the room, pulling open draws and lifting the sofa. Racing into the bedroom and frantically pulling open her wardrobe. There was nothing to confirm or refute the passage of time.

  Avery activated the external door release. Flinching as it opened and jumping back expecting an attack. She was met by an empty walkway, illuminated by soft white ceiling lights.

  Navigating a route to the stairs, she trod quietly outside other command team quarters. Major Kaya, Major Pritchard, Major Daniels. It would be embarrassing to be this confused in front of her junior officers.

  A fluorescent green glow, from emergency lighting, lit the stairway. She climbed the steps quietly, listening for sounds of other people. On level two, she edged open the door. Training rooms, offices and the command centre were all deserted.

  As she slipped through the door to level one, sounds of footsteps echoed towards her from the armory. She moved back flat against the door and listened. There was a brief exchange of words. An opened lock then retreating footsteps before another locking sound.

  She squeezed back through the open door and descended to level two.

  In the dark command centre, the main screen was black. She pushed the door closed and crept towards the closest terminal. Orange, green and red lights twinkled on the screen.

  “Good morning Commander.”

  Avery recoiled at the sound, stumbling backwards into a chair. She sat for a moment to regain control, before replying. “Can we have some light in here?”

  “Of course.”

  Light flooded the room and Avery covered her eyes to adjust. A blue uniformed man sat at the furthest terminal. After the sudden light change, her blurry eyes couldn’t recognize him.

  His face came into focus, but she still couldn’t place him. The Corporal smiled, his gaze switching between her and his monitor.

  “I’m having a moment,” she said, shifting into a more comfortable position. “Can you remind me how long we’ve been on lockdown?”

  “I feel the same Commander. Days and weeks fly by. We’ve been on lockdown for eleven months and two days.”

  “Almost a year,” she murmured, staring into space.

  “Are you here for the emergency engagement op?”

  She turned back to the Corporal, pausing to consider his question. What op was he talking about?

  “They’re not going anywhere, but you’re early,” he said, chuckling to himself.

  “Very good. That’s, very good,” she said, easing up from the chair. “I’ll be back after breakfast.”

  Walking stiffly out of the command room, she clicked the door closed behind her. Balancing against it and gasping for air.

  How can she have lost so much time?

  There was a sound of footsteps approaching and Avery ran for the staircase. Ripping open the door and hurtling down the stairs, two at a time. Passing a line of soldiers and pushing her way between two Sergeants.

  Once inside her quarters, she slumped on the sofa, replaying events since arriving at the bunker. The memories were elusive, fluttering away as she tried to touch them.

  Calming herself with deep breaths, she stretched out. Closing her eyes to let her sub conscious sift through the information. Touching the dead zone inside her mind. An idea bubbled up to the surface of her consciousness.

  The neuro lab.

  She jolted upright at the sound of her door alarm.

  Kaya’s face appeared on the display. “I’ve written up a report on the allocation of tactical resource.”

  “I’ll take a look after the drill.”

  “Drill?”

  “Later Kaya. I’ll take a look later.

  His face disappeared from the screen and Avery slumped to the floor. She gripped her head in her hands, willing her mind to remember. All she could focus on was her first week. After that it was blank.

  She squeezed her head, mulling over possible explanations. It could be a Montauk project. Everything above ground is okay and their reactions were being analyzed. She massaged her left pinkie finger, pulling it gently, then harder.

  Doctor Burns at the neuro lab might provide answers. Then there was Matos. He knew something. They were the keys to finding out what was going on.

  The date flashed at her again after she placed her hand on the flexi screen. Its log scroll describing what her memory was holding back. She read perfunctory notices, inspection reports and her daily log. There was nothing revealing or out of the ordinary. She recognised the words as her own, or at least ones she would have used.

  It was a schedule of rigid organization and endless drills. There were frequent meetings with Cain to discuss individuals for NDCC examinations. Avery had authorized each request, even suggesting names of her own.

  With no idea what op they were executing in the command centre, she brought up the days schedule. The drill was a complete mobilization of troops and operation of external defenses. She made a checklist of orders to issue in the command centre.

  After changing int
o uniform, she brewed tea and picked up a muesli bar to eat. She sat alone and stared into a void of hopelessness.

  The door alarm buzzed again and Avery rose on shaking legs. Ringo’s face appeared on the screen. His bulbous pock marked nose devouring the screen space. He stared blankly, offering no wave or words of greeting.

  Ringo pushed open the command centre doors and stepped back. For the first time, it was a hive of activity. Armed guards were on either side of the door. All terminals manned and only her seat empty at the table. There was a pause in activity as they noticed her in the doorway.

  She took her seat at the table, Kaya and Pritchard each gave her a nod. Cain didn’t even look up at her, engrossed by a small screen.

  “Commander,” Daniels said.

  Avery nodded a reply. “Carry on Daniels.”

  “Air quality prevents our forces from exiting the bunker without full PPE.”

  He waited for a response, face screwed and eyes like slits.

  She glanced at her orders then scrolled the screen up. “Launch drones.”

  “Already done,” Cain said, looking up. “Where have you been?”

  Her stomach flipped and she swallowed. Cain was overstepping her mark in front of the whole command centre.

  “What have we got?” she asked.

  Daniels seemed not to notice and carried on. “Insurgents have set up a defensive position close to the bunker. Scouts are searching for a way to penetrate our defenses.”

  “On screen.”

  A large group of multicolored bodies appeared on the screen. Some wore masks, others only had scarves wrapped around their faces. The insurgents appeared more like desperate survivors than hostiles.

  “Raise canons,” Kaya said.

  On screen, the virtual reality group seemed to get the message and began to fall back.

  “Fire,” Kaya said.

  Cannons ripped apart the main group and they were routed. The fragmented mass scrambled to get clear, running in all directions away from the punishing canon fire.

  “No prisoners,” Kaya said.

  Drones circled the remaining few rebels, their thermal images visible on the main screen. Canons fired and one by one, the human heat signatures winked out.