by Jake Bible
“Smarty ass,” Kyle says.
“Zinger!” Lowell laughs. “Score one for the kid!”
“You next, please,” Dr. Bennet says, motioning for Lu to get up on the exam table.
“Wait, what?” Lu asks, pushing away from the wall, looking more than surprised. “I didn’t have a seizure.”
“I thought the holding cell was doing all the tests,” Kyle says.
“It can do quite a few tests,” Dr. Bennet says as he tugs at the stethoscope around his neck. “But the system is not a doctor. I am. I’d like to confirm the findings for myself. That many people in that cell could lead to false readings.”
“Fine,” Lu says and walks over to the table. “Clothed or unclothed?”
“I call for unclothed,” Lowell says, raising his hand.
“Gross, dude,” Kyle says. “That’s my mom.”
“Oh, like you haven’t already seen the goods,” Lowell says.
“Dude!” Kyle shouts.
“Hey!” Lu shouts.
“Please,” Dr. Bennet cries. “I am developing a migraine from all the stress. Can we please stop yelling?” He waits until everyone nods. “Thank you. Clothed is fine, Ms. Morgan.”
“Party pooper,” Lowell mutters.
Dr. Bennet begins his exam of Lu as Lowell starts to walk around the infirmary, following Kyle’s lead and opening drawers and fiddling with the machinery.
“So, Doc, we are obviously way deep underground,” Lowell says casually. “But why? What does this place do exactly?”
“You are not cleared nor qualified to have that question answered,” Dr. Bennet replies.
“Huh,” Lowell nods. “I may not know exactly where we are, but I get the distinct vibe that the jailers are as much captives as we are.”
“I am not a jailer,” Dr. Bennet says. “Neither are the other members of the facility’s staff.”
“That’s what the guards at every penitentiary I’ve been in thought, too,” Lowell laughs. “But you could see it in their eyes. They were just as trapped. Sure, they could go home at night, but they took the bars with them. Prisoners of the mind. You know what I mean?”
Dr. Bennet stops examining Lu and turns to Lowell.
“Yes, Mr. Lowell, I do,” Dr. Bennet says. “I do very much.”
“Oh,” Lowell says, looking stunned. “Well, alright then.”
“Not used to people agreeing with you?” Dr. Bennet asks.
“Not usually. No,” Lowell admits. “I’m used to the yelling. And the beating. Marshal Morgan is just so cruel.”
“Cram it, Lowell,” Lu says.
“So if this isn’t a prison,” Kyle asks, “then what is it?”
Dr. Bennet sighs and looks at Lu. “You’re all done.” Lu gets down and he motions for Kyle. “Your turn.”
“Not until you tell me what this place really is,” Kyle says.
“Son, I didn’t get this position because I easily cave to pressure from a teenage boy,” Dr. Bennet says.
“Don’t,” Lu says, holding up a finger at Lowell.
“I wasn’t going to say a word,” Lowell responds. “Not one word about the doctor here and teenage boy pressure.”
“This is what I can tell you,” Dr. Bennet says as he puts the stethoscope to Kyle’s chest. “This facility is directly related to what is happening above.”
“I knew it was all a government conspiracy!” Lowell exclaims.
“No, you didn’t,” Lu says. “Just shut up.”
“See?” Lowell says to Dr. Bennet. “Nothing but abuse.”
“Do you want to hear this or not?” Dr. Bennet asks.
“Sorry,” Lowell says. “Go on.”
He taps at Kyle’s knees and then checks his pulse before smiling and moving to the side so Kyle can get down.
“How about refreshments while we talk?” Dr. Bennet asks. “I’ll show you to the cafeteria. I can pop some popcorn and open some sodas. I believe we still have sodas. Might only have seltzer. But it’s flavored. Orange or grapefruit?”
The three stare at him, none sure what to do with the mood change.
“Uh…grapefruit?” Lowell replies.
Dr. Bennet chuckles. “My apologies for the about face. I have decided that with all that is going on up above, and the fact that Burkhorst is more than occupied with those events, not to mention whatever she needs Sergeants Bolton and Holt for, I might have a little leeway to explain your current circumstances in a civilized manner.”
He sighs as they walk out of the infirmary.
“That and I’m just so fucking tired of the lies and subterfuge,” he says.
“Now you’re talking, brother,” Lowell laughs.
***
For the waves of death encompassed me; The torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
For the waves of death encompassed me; The torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
For the waves of death encompassed me; The torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
The verse runs over and over in Terrie’s mind, but she can’t remember what part of the Bible it comes from. Her memory tries to stretch, tries to grasp the exact passage, the chapter number, the verse number.
Then her eyes open and she sees nothing. All there is to the world is blackness. A soul penetrating blackness like the kind she experienced in one of the deep caves by her childhood home. No matter which way she looks there is nothing, not even the slightest hint of light.
Not that she can look far. Her neck turns and her shoulders can move somewhat, but her arms are pinned to her sides as well as her lower half. She struggles to move her left arm and there is a terrible groan from all around her.
She stops immediately.
For the waves of death encompassed me; The torrents of destruction overwhelmed me.
Her conscious mind catches up to what her subconscious has been trying to tell her.
She’s buried. Under who knows how much mud and debris. She wiggles her fingers, moving her hands as much as possible, and feels the roughness of bark. Trees. She’s wedged between trees.
Whether deadfall that was lifted up by the wave of volcanic mud and seawater, or fresh trees, newly toppled and destroyed by the ferocious power of the wave, she cannot tell. Everything is coated in the mud, cold and wet, no way to tell a rotten log from a recently standing fir.
She knows her position is precarious, having tested it briefly, but that is not what she fears. She realizes she is trapped with a pocket of air. But how much air? And how deep is she?
Terrie had witnessed a mudslide in Wyoming that had ended up fifty feet high when it finally came to rest in the valley below. Fifty feet of mud, rocks, trees, and the unfortunate debris from vacation homes and some locals’ cabins.
Too many of the homes and cabins had not been vacated in time and she had spent a week with local law enforcement and the National Guard digging out corpse after corpse.
Will that be her fate? She doesn’t know. She tries not to think too much about it.
Instead she thinks about Linda. About Krissy and Roy and Belle. They had been with her when the wave hit the island. They had been standing right by her side as they all tried to get back inside the bunker. But the bunker was locked because of that young man.
Not that Terrie blames the young man. He was sacred, terrified, and had done what he’d been taught to do when danger presents itself outside the bunker. He ran, locked things down, and didn’t open the hatch for any reason. As much as Roy and Belle had pleaded for him to open up, Terrie knew the young man was only doing what he thought right. She’d been around enough preppers to know they had a strict code of procedures. Once the hatch closes, it doesn’t open back up until safety can be confirmed.
Even if that wasn’t the case with Roy and his family, if they didn’t have that strict procedure in place, Terrie knew the young man, Tony, wasn’t quite right in the head. More than one misfire happening in that mind. Too much stimuli, too little filter. Not everyone is cut out for the end
of the world.
Samuel! The Book of Samuel!
Terrie feels a thrill at remembering where the Bible verse looping in her head had come from. Not that it does her much good. She is still trapped under mud and trees and has no idea where her companions are.
She takes a deep breath then holds it as long as she can before letting it out. Many say to take short, shallow breaths, but she always found that made her lightheaded. The last thing she wants to do is pass out and then not be able to control her breathing at all.
To pass the time from one breath to the other, Terrie assesses her physical condition. She concentrates on her arms, moving as little as possible, but enough to discover whether she has any broken bones or not. She does not. Not severe enough to set off any pain.
She does the same with her legs. No major pain. Some serious bruising, for sure. She can already feel the soreness creeping through the flesh and down into her bones.
Not to mention the cold.
The mud may have come from a piping hot volcano, but it travelled for hundreds of miles and across frigid water before hitting the island. She could feel the cold seeping into her bones as well. It isn’t long before her teeth begin to chatter, ruining her disciplined breathing technique.
She tries to get it under control, but the chattering is on a rampage, turning into full body shivers in seconds. At least shivering is designed to create body heat and warm her up. She just hopes it doesn’t shake her position too much and kill her instead of saving her.
A voice in her head says she forgot to think of someone. Not so much a voice, actually, but a bark.
Biscuit.
Biscuit was out with them too. The hybrid had been there with her and Krissy, barking and whining as the wave of destruction came at them. The poor thing. Dead for certain.
Or not?
The voice in her head, the bark in her head, starts to happen more frequently and Terrie realizes it isn’t in her head, but up above her. Biscuit is above her! He is barking for her!
“BISCUIT!” Terrie yells, calling to her wolf-dog. “BISCUIT! DOWN HERE!”
The barking increases, becomes more frantic and insistent. Mud starts to drip down onto Terrie’s face and she tries to shake it off, but even that movement begins to dislodge her deadly pocket of safety.
“BISCUIT!” Terrie screams, eating some of the dropping mud in the process. She doesn’t care, just spits it out. “BISCUIT!”
Terrie has no idea what will happen when/if Biscuit reaches her. The poor thing doesn’t have opposable thumbs. Not like he can assess the engineering of the trees she’s trapped in and carefully remove the correct ones like giant pick-up sticks. She suddenly shivers, not from the cold, but from the thought that her salvation may in fact kill her.
As she thinks of this new predicament, a tiny sliver of light appears above. It is enough so she can look at where she is stuck. Three large firs have her boxed in with several smaller pines criss-crossed like perfect braces yet angled enough that if they shift they’ll roll right across her exposed head and shoulders.
Several curse words run through her mind, words she’d never say out loud.
The barking increases even more and the sound of paws scrabbling fills her ears.
“Hold up, Biscuit,” Terrie cries. “Hold up, boy!”
“Biscuit! Back!” a voice shouts. “Get back!”
The hybrid barks harshly, obviously not happy about the order, and continues to dig.
“Dammit, Biscuit! Move your furry ass!” the voice yells. “You’ll crush her!”
Krissy.
“Krissy? Can you hear me?” Terrie calls out.
“Yeah,” Krissy says. The light goes dim and Terrie can just barely see a shadowed eye peering down at her through the space between two of the firs. “How bad is it?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Terrie chuckles. “Is it worth coming up there?”
“Not much to see except for mud,” Krissy says. “But probably better than down there. Plenty of firewood up here.”
“I bet,” Terrie says. “Listen, I am wedged between some trees. There are some smaller ones ready to take my head off if things aren’t done right. Do you understand?”
“Can you move at all?” Krissy asks.
“No,” Terrie says.
“Shit,” Krissy replies.
“Please don’t curse,” Terrie requests.
“I’ll try,” Krissy laughs. “But no promises. I’m really fucking scared, okay?”
“You and me both, girl,” Terrie says. “Now, from what I can see, if we can get the top firto move then I may be able to shift enough to get an arm up and block the pines from taking my noggin for a ride. Do you think you can carefully,very carefully, get the top fir off this pile?”
“I can try,” Krissy says, her voice quivering with fear.
“That’s all I ask,” Terrie says. “Just try really, really carefully, alright?”
“Don’t pressure me,” Krissy snaps. “I don’t exactly feel so great.”
“Are you injured?” Terrie asks.
“Yeah, I’m fucking injured,” Krissy growls. “I wasn’t one hundred percent before the big wave of death mud hit us.”
“Right, yes, sorry,” Terrie replies. “I forgot about your previous injuries.”
“Whatever,” Krissy says, grunting. “Lay off until I try to lift this thing.”
There is a lot more grunting and the sliver of light becomes a line of light, a wedge, a gap, an opening.
“What now?” Krissy asks, the strain in her voice evident. “Where the hell do I put this?”
“Hold on,” Terrie says as she slowly wiggles her right arm free then raises it up and grabs onto the closest log. Pain rips through her midsection and she realizes that her stitches are now long gone. She prays she can get free and not bleed out. Just one more worry to add to the already massive pile of worries. “You got it?”
“For now,” Krissy hisses. “But hurry.”
Terrie twists her body, almost passing out from the pain, then gets her other arm free. With both arms grasping onto the log above her, she pulls hard and frees her lower half. Then the pine trees come loose and shift right at her.
“Help me out!” Terrie cries.
“Oh, fuck!” Krissy says and tosses the tree she’s holding to the side. She dives at Terrie and grabs her under the armpits, pulling up as hard and fast as she can. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck!”
Terrie comes popping out, but not before one of the pines catches her across her right ankle. She cries out, feeling all the muscles and tendons bend in a direction they do not like bending.
“Oh, shit, did it take your foot off?” Krissy cries, falling back on her ass, perched on the very log she’d just lifted and tossed aside. Her hand is over her eyes. “I can’t look. Just tell me.”
“I still have my foot, thank God,” Terrie says. “But I won’t be hiking any trails today. You can uncover…your… Oh, sweet child.”
“What?” Krissy asks. “What’s wrong?”
Terrie stares at Krissy then turns away. The bandages that had been covering Krissy’s facial wounds are gone, lost to the mud. Only exposed flesh is left to the elements, flesh that is missing most of its skin.
Krissy opens her mouth to speak then her shoulders slump and she starts to cry.
“Is it that bad?” she sobs. “Oh, shit, is it that bad?”
Despite her excruciating pain, from ankle and midsection, Terrie scoots over to Krissy and takes her in her arms. The girl can only rest her chin on Terrie’s shoulder, unable to lay her flayed cheek down. In seconds, Terrie is crying with her, the two shaking and shivering from anguish, fear, exhaustion, and cold.
Biscuit raises his head and lets out a long, mournful howl.
***
“Here we go, folks!” VanderVoort announces, her hands on her hips as her head turns from one monitor to the next.
Director Miles walks up to her and hands her a cup of chocolate pudding.
“Sorry it took so long,” he says. “I had to get the head cook to open a new case. Apparently, he does not like opening a new case. Also, apparently, he has not been informed about who you are. I mentioned your name and he only blinked at me.”
“But you straightened it out, right?” VanderVoort asks, ripping into the pudding like it’s oxygen. “Mmmm.”
“Oh, the guy is straightened out,” Director Miles laughs. “You will have access to pudding twenty-four seven.”
She looks at him. “Where’re my chips?”
“Dammit,” Director Miles frowns. “So close.”
“Australia is going up,” a tech calls out.
“So is Japan!” another cries.
“Kenya!”
“Chile!”
“France!”
“Italy!”
“Okay, okay, I get the picture,” VanderVoort says. “They are all erupting at once. Let’s get past the blowing up and move on to theories on why. Any ideas on how volcanoes all across the world, most not connected in any way, can be erupting simultaneously? Come on, folks! You aren’t down here to repopulate the world! We have places with much prettier people for that! Give me ideas!”
“Do we really have those places?” Director Miles asks.
“Nah,” VanderVoort replies. “But I figured they’d work harder if they thought they could be more important than the college quarterback chosen only for his loins and breeding potential.”
“You are one sick broad,” Director Miles smiles.
“I have to be in this job,” VanderVoort says.
The situation room is total chaos as techs, scientists, and everyone else shouts over each other to be heard. The monitors are filled with scientists’ faces, red with excitement, splotched white with fear. Their voices are part of the chaos and VanderVoort only smiles. A fire has been lit.
Then she notices that the Yellowstone facility scientists aren’t joining in. They all look passive, pained. Silent.
“Hand me that headset, will you?” VanderVoort asks, pointing to a stray headset sitting at one of the stations.
