'We've tried every kind of delivery system we can think of,' Edwards told Josh as he saw him looking at a row of bomb disposal robots. 'If it's flesh, it gets vaporized; if it's electronic, it ceases to respond. We've lost three multi-million dollar robots to that room.'
For all the equipment, the site was sparsely populated. It was something of a high-tech ghost town. 'Where is everyone?' Josh asked.
'This is the highest level of clearance,' Edwards said. 'Only the people who absolutely need to be here are here.'
They entered the elevator cage and plummeted down into the tunnels. In the great staging area, agents busied themselves viewing data that streamed in from cables writhing deep into the tunnels. On the far side was a makeshift hazmat station where two agents were being hosed off in their bright yellow hazmat suits, having returned from an expedition.
'We don't send people down there unless we have to,' Edwards said as the elevator came to a clattering halt. 'We don't want to take any more unnecessary risks.'
'What about me?' Josh asked as they headed down the steps to what had been the temporary train station, and was now an equipment delivery hub.
'This is necessary,' Edwards replied. He led them to a unit in the middle of the chasm where cleaned hazmat suits hung on a railing. 'We're going to get kitted up first, and then we'll be heading down into the tunnel. We've got some equipment we'd like you to take in there with you.'
'I thought electronic equipment doesn't work in there?'
'I said it doesn't respond,' Edwards said, hauling a hazmat suit off the railing and handing it to Josh. 'Here, try this on.'
Josh took the suit. It was heavy, clammy. 'What do you mean it doesn't respond?'
Edwards was now clambering into his own suit. 'The remote vehicles we sent in became unresponsive minutes after entry. We couldn’t get them back. So we sent one in with a rope tied around it so we could pull it out again.'
'And?'
Edwards raised his eyebrows before pulling the suit up onto his shoulders. 'What we found was quite remarkable. Do you need help putting your suit on?'
Josh looked at the suit. 'I'm not going to wear it,' he said, handing it back. 'I don't see the point.'
'Are you sure?' Edwards said. 'I strongly suggest that you do.'
'Was the man who got fried wearing one of these?'
Edwards said nothing for a moment, then took the suit back. 'Fine. Don't wear the suit.' He returned it to the rail, then picked up a facepiece for himself.
'So what was so fascinating about the robot?' Josh asked.
'The data,' Edwards said, voice muffled by the facepiece. 'It was all there. The room simply prevented it from leaving wirelessly, like a defense mechanism. It’s the material that stopped the signal, that crystalline metal—it's organic. It's in the rooms we found before, and it's here, too, Mr. Reed.' The excitement in Edwards's voice was building, his face alight with joy. 'It was dead in the rooms we found before, but here it's—it's alive.'
Josh frowned. 'Alive? How?'
Edwards, grinning, said, 'There's a lot of questions we don't have the answers to. But all that could change now. The data that came back from the robot was fascinating—and there's so much more to see. We've waited a long time for answers, and now we're finally going to get them. You're going to get them.'
He indicated for Josh to follow as they headed to the train. It was stationed across the chasm and at the entrance to the tunnel leading to the room. There was another sentry point there, where agents in hazmat suits stopped them.
'Sir, he needs a suit,' one of them said to Edwards.
'It's okay,' Edwards said. 'Step aside.'
'But, sir—'
'I said step aside.'
The agent did as he was told. 'Yes, sir.'
They passed through the checkpoint and boarded the train. It was hot, hotter than Josh had ever known it to be. He could see that Edwards was already starting to sweat in that suit.
'Are you ready?' Edwards asked.
'As I'll ever be.'
The train moved forward, into the tunnel. They weren't too far in when Josh felt a familiar vibration in his skin. 'The energy,' he muttered to himself, looking at his hands.
'What's that?' Edwards asked. 'I can't hear you very well.'
'I said I can feel the energy,' Josh repeated. 'It's stronger than before.'
'Yes, you're right. We've detected readings rising exponentially over the last few hours. Whatever's in that room is expanding.'
As they headed further into the tunnel, the vibrations became stronger and stronger until they became almost too uncomfortable to bear. The train was buzzing and clattering as its joints and fixings hummed with the energy, while Josh's own vision began to blur. The train slowed, pulling up at the end of the track.
'It's just you from here on in,' Edwards said, voice raised over the vibration. He opened a container on the floor and retrieved some items which he handed to Josh. 'A flashlight,' he said. 'And a video camera. This camera is better than the ones on the robots. We've got the data; now we're hoping to get a better view of what's actually in there.'
Josh took the items. 'So you just want me to go in and film?'
'Yes. Your report when you return will be more valuable than any other data we can gather from outside.'
'Okay, I think I can handle that,' Josh said. He sounded calmer than he felt.
'Great. Well—not a moment to lose.'
Josh took that as his cue to go. Pocketing the flashlight, he headed down the tunnel, pushing through the wall of energy. What am I doing? he wondered to himself. As the tunnel straightened out and the drill came into view at the end of it, he stopped. Edwards couldn't see him from here, so he leaned up against the wall, staring at the end of the tunnel, biting down on his own teeth to stop his jaw from buzzing. All he wanted, more than ever before, was to be with his family. How had he ended up in this mess? Why was he down here? Why was he the only one who could go into that room?
With a sick feeling in his gut, brought on by more than just the energy, he knew his choices were limited. He couldn't stay where he was, and he certainly couldn’t go back. The only way for him to go was forward. Swallowing the nausea back down again, he set off toward the room, fighting every breath, forcing every step. Small, loose stones moved across the ground, and rising dust fogged the air. He coughed, drawing more dusty air in, causing him to cough even more.
Eventually he was able to gain control over his breathing, and standing tall, eyes streaming, he pushed on. Closer, he could see that screws on the outer shell of the drill had vibrated loose, and in some cases had fallen out completely. An inspection panel at the rear hung ajar, every nook and cranny peppered with debris.
Josh's hands and feet were turning numb and his fingers were pale; he knew he'd have to be quick. He entered the fresh tunnel on the other side of the drill, the last passage between him and the room.
He could see that the CIA had made a vague effort to support the bare tunnel, but some of it had caved in. Josh climbed over mounds of rock and dirt, sweat pouring from him, the heat and the vibration sapping his energy at a colossal rate. By the time he reached the edge of the tunnel, he wanted to collapse, but by now it was his own intrigue that spurred him on.
The room, the portal through time, was right in front of him. There was a ramp laid down from the edge into the darkness—presumably for the robots—so it'd be easy to get out if he needed to. If he could. He noticed that the vibration had become so strong that it no longer seemed like vibration; if anything it felt like he was floating, his mind separate from his body, hovering in the air. All he needed to do was take one more step forward and he'd be in. Hopefully he wouldn't be fried.
He pulled the flashlight from his pocket, turned it on and pointed it into the darkness.
Then he stepped in.
Chapter 13
The flashlight was powerful, but the beam didn't seem to reach far. Josh took his second step into the room, entering it fu
lly. He held his breath, waiting for the burning flash of electricity to turn him to dust. None came. He took a third step, dancing the flashlight all around to try and get a feel for the scale of the room. He looked down over the edge of the ramp, and his blood froze as the light caught a shape. It was the agent who'd entered, his yellow hazmat suit melted to his body, burned and blistered and fused into one congealed mess. Josh looked away, his stomach already delicate. He turned his attention to the inside wall, tracking the flashlight along it and up to the ceiling.
But the ceiling never came. The flashlight played and danced along the shimmering crystalline material, glinting with almost holographic veracity, but as he went higher with it, it soon weakened and rolled off to nothing. This room was at least twice as high as the staging area. The top surface couldn't have been buried much more than fifty or so meters below the surface—maybe less.
And then he had a thought: perhaps that was why Central Park was where it was? The skyscrapers were built on areas of the tough Manhattan schist, he knew that, but perhaps engineers had tested this ground before, found this material and decided not to build on it, creating the park instead? How close they could have been to unearthing this place, choosing instead to ignore it because it wasn't the schist they knew and trusted.
He continued on slowly, the ramp bowing under his weight. At the bottom, three robots sat motionless, their batteries long run down. They were eerie to see under the flashlight, their metal parts shining and their plastic and rubber ones dull. Josh turned on the camera and started recording as he sidestepped around them. He kept alert, still pointing his flashlight every way, searching but not knowing what he was searching for.
Floating forward, carried by the energy, he walked into the glow of his flashlight, revealing more and more of the room. At first it seemed like the crystalline material would go on forever, but as the energy amped up even more, something began to emerge from the shadows. The reflection of the flashlight caught, shimmering back. Josh focused the beam, drawing himself toward it, drifting on the wave of energy.
It was a sphere, large, reflective and bright, but it wasn't convex as he was expecting, but concave. Three stories tall, it reflected the world back in on itself, flipped upside down. Josh circled it. It was like staring into the mouth of a great chrome creature, insides frozen, then swirling, then frozen. Josh swallowed.
This was what Edwards was looking for. This was the reason he himself had died and come back again. This was his second chance.
Cautiously, so very cautiously, he approached it. As he did, he could feel its power rise, but it wasn't uncomfortable any more; it was familiar, warming—hopeful. It was a hot shower, soothing him—not just his mortal body but his soul as well. Josh felt like it knew him, understood him. He could trust it, and it him.
He stood beneath it as it towered overhead. The footage he'd already got would give Edwards everything he'd need and more, but he realized he could go one better: he could try and push the camera into the sphere, get a glimpse of what was on the other side.
Would that even be possible? Perhaps he could test the sphere first. Pointing the flashlight in all directions, he searched for something he could throw, but there was nothing. The ground was uneven, but none of it was loose. Then he remembered the gravel he'd picked up earlier. He patted his pocket—it was still there. Its presence was unnerving; it felt like a lifetime had passed since he had last entered this room, yet theoretically it had only been a few hours.
Feeling for a good-sized fragment, he rolled it between his fingers as he backed up a few steps and took aim. Then he hurled the stone, hard, right into the epicenter of the sphere. There was a ripple as the stone disappeared beneath the glossy surface, a pulse of energy that rolled through Josh like a wave, and then—nothing. No clatter as it flew out the other side and returned to the ground, nothing at all. Silence. Just silence and energy.
Primed, Josh took the video camera in a one-handed grip, then approached the sphere. Its chrome surface swarmed above him, ready to swallow him up. Josh's chest, deep and distant, sent flushes through his body that made his mouth dry and his hands clammy. He adjusted his grip to get a better hold of the camera's smooth, plastic body.
Inches away, he considered backing down. His calm had gone, fear and doubt eating it away in great tearing chunks. What kept him moving forward was his desire to know, his need to know. He was in here not for Edwards, but for himself. He needed to know the truth. He needed to know that what had happened to him was real.
Slowly, carefully, he pushed the camera at arm's length into the surface of the sphere. At first the sphere resisted, tension in its skin, but with more effort the tension broke, gently sucking the camera in, the hum of energy growing as the lens pushed deeper. Josh held it there, heart thumping. He didn't know how long to shoot for, but he felt like he needed to keep the camera there for as long as possible, as still as possible.
After a time, he retracted the camera from the silvery wall. It took a little effort, particularly in the last few moments where the suction of the sphere clung on to the device, but it popped out with a tug. Josh staggered back a few steps. The camera seemed fine; he looked up at the sphere, and it was unchanged. One minute frozen, the next, a swirling mass. His heart was calming, and he licked his lips. It was time to go. He did not want to outstay his welcome.
He walked back to the exit ramp, guided by the flashlight to the bright hole in the wall through which he'd entered. Having the sphere to his back made him nervous, but at the same time he felt sad to be leaving it behind. It made him feel . . . special. Outside of this room he was no one; inside, he was unique. As he hit the foot of the ramp, he turned around to see it one last time, but the flashlight just wasn't powerful enough to pick it up this far away.
With a sigh, he scaled the ramp, thumbing the stop button on the camera. Once he was out of the room, he decided to take a look at the footage. Excitement crept up in him, anticipation at what he'd see. He danced over the uneven ground and out into the fluorescent light of the reinforced tunnel, slowing to watch the clip back on the camera's folding screen. He fast-forwarded the footage until—there it was. The intensity of the sphere hadn't been captured by the camera under the beam of his flashlight, but its immense size was apparent. So too was the strange concave illusion. He could see the beam of the flashlight skipping over the sphere's surface, pinprick sharp as the sphere remained still, smeared and tubular as it distorted. Watching it over, Josh got chills. He held his breath as the camera jerked, knowing that he had just thrown the stone. He couldn't see the stone, but he could see the ripple in the sphere's surface. He also saw something that he'd missed at the time: the sphere seemed to glow brighter for a second. It could have simply been the flashlight moving, but that didn't seem right. It was as though the sphere had emitted a flash of its own light. Energy he couldn't see with his eyes that had been picked up by the camera, perhaps.
Then came the moment he'd been so desperate to see. The camera wobbled as he readjusted his grip, then the view filled with silver as it probed toward the concave outer skin. When it hit, all went black, and for a moment Josh was bitterly disappointed. But then, as he knew he was pushing the camera in deeper, pushing through the resistance, something spectacular happened. The screen lit up in a rainbow of color, swirling and strobing, bands of rich reds, greens and blues slipping up and down with such intensity that it flashed completely white in places. It was a kaleidoscope of patterns and colors, a world unrecognizable to the visible spectrum. Staring hard at it, Josh thought he could make out shapes—people perhaps—but with a blink it was gone. The screen was black again, empty. Noise danced in the shadows.
But then there was a light. A single, bright, moonlike light that danced across the frame, then froze in the top right. Josh paused, and zoomed in. It flickered between frames, bright and without detail, but Josh felt sure he knew what it was. It was somehow familiar, yet he could not put his finger on it.
He played on,
and within moments the light had disappeared, the rainbow pattern jumping into view again, swirling fast as the camera was withdrawn. Then it was back in the room, silver sphere reflecting back, upside down and heavily distorted. Josh hit stop.
Making sure he had a good hold of the camera and its precious footage, he headed back through the tunnel, following the curve around to the station. The energy, compared to its strength in the room, felt almost weak now, even though it was still flowing through him. But that thought fell by the wayside as he realized that the train was gone, and so was Edwards.
'Hello?' he called out, but there was no response. A cold chill ran through him; something wasn't right. As he continued on, the fluorescent tubes above began to dim, and after a few seconds, had gone out completely. It was so dark that Josh couldn't see his own nose, so he switched the flashlight on and followed its glow. The construction company had probably switched off the power, knowing the takeover was going to be long-term. The CIA would need to bring their own generators down.
It would be a long trip back to the staging area on foot and in the dark, but there didn't seem to be any other option. On he trudged, muddy, slippy ground glossy under the harsh flashlight. The tunnels felt so different like this; larger, emptier. Walking toward the black was not an unusual thing for a tunnel engineer to have to do, but under the circumstances, and despite the humidity, Josh's blood still ran cold. He would be glad to be out of there.
The sound of his own feet splish-splashing through the muddied concrete got him into a rhythm, pacing him along as the meters rolled by. There couldn't be much longer to go.
And there wasn't. He could hear the echo of his footsteps getting broader before he saw the edge of the tunnel as it breached the staging area, and he could see before he'd even arrived that the power was out there, too. As his footsteps were the only thing he could hear, he presumed that the agents had all been evacuated until power could be restored. Although he felt a little peeved at being left behind, Josh understood why they'd done it: he was used to being down here, had done the emergency drills. They had been drafted in from an office, as green to the underworld as they come.
New York Deep Page 10
