Killer Thrillers Box Set: 3 Techno-Thriller, Action/Adventure Science Fiction Thrillers

by Nick Thacker

  “Unbelievable,” he whispered.

  Jen heard him. “Seriously. This place must have been a full-fledged operation back in the day. I can’t believe all the work that must have gone into it. Greenhouses, corn fields, railroads? It’s insane.”

  “It is,” Hog added. “I still can’t believe the corn’s alive, either. My uncle’s a farmer. I’ve seen how much work it takes to keep this stuff alive year after year… and this has survived how many years? Without light?”

  Suddenly another voice entered the conversation from somewhere behind them.

  “Yes, yes—but you assume… there was no light here.”

  Carter and the three other soldiers whipped around, their guns drawn. At first Mark couldn’t see anyone, and then he saw movement next to one of the smaller buildings at the outskirts of the circle. A man stepped out from behind a crate, short and squat. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Strangely, though, he was wearing an oxford shirt and khaki slacks. Aside from his hair, he looked like he had just gotten off work and decided to go for a stroll through the cornfield. He was quirky, awkward, and had a winking twitch every few seconds.

  “Stop!” Carter shouted. “Don’t take another step forward. Tell us who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  The man frowned a moment, twitched, then answered. “El…Elliot Bingham. Facilities—Facilities Technician—here. Maintenance, other stuff.”

  CHAPTER 16

  CARTER DIDN’T DROP HIS GUN, and his team of soldiers didn’t either. They stared down the newcomer, the small, odd man who had suddenly appeared behind them. Carter stepped forward toward the man and repeated his last demand.

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Bingham?”

  Elliot twitched. “J—just walking. Walking. Checking. Fixing? Working.”

  Jen scrunched her eyebrows. This man was clearly suffering from some kind of psychological deterioration. Before she could question him to discover more, Lindsay spoke up.

  “Mr. Bingham, are you alright? You sound…confused.” Her words were blunt, but they were the words each of the team members was thinking. Nelson scoffed and breathed in sharply.

  Carter cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. Bingham, are you feeling okay?”

  Bingham looked from Carter to Lindsay and back. “Yes. Yes sir. Good. I am good.” He smiled, an odd smear of confusion and squeamishness. Nelson stepped up behind the man and eyed Carter, who gave him a slight nod.

  Nelson quickly searched the scientist, finding only an ID badge, some keys, and a small flashlight in the man’s pocket. He held them out for his boss to peruse, but Carter just dismissed them and continued his line of questioning. Saunders and Mason lowered their guns slightly.

  “Mr. Bingham, can you tell me why you’re down here? What brought you to Agartha?”

  Bingham stared blankly.

  “Can you explain to me what Agartha Base—this place—is for? What were you studying here?”

  Twitch.

  Carter frowned almost imperceptibly, but didn’t drop his eyes from the scientist’s face. “Can you at least tell me where we are? We’re on the main level, right? Level Four: Rue d’Argent, correct?”

  Bingham suddenly focused on Carter’s face when he heard the French words. “Yes, yes!” He responded, growing excited. “Rue d’Argent. Main.”

  “Ok, wonderful. We’re getting somewhere. And what’s on the other levels, Bingham? Do you know where we can find a map?”

  “Map? Map. Map—find a map. Where’s a map?” Bingham’s face contorted again in thought. “A map! Yes! Come, come—a map!”

  Carter shook his head, but followed the scientist to a small white building directly in the center of the open level, next to the corn field. The rest of the group followed behind, Jen and Mark walking next to one another followed by Drs. Sanjay Pavan and Lindsay Richards, her assistant Erik Statnik in tow, and finally the three soldiers of Daniel Carter’s team: Gary Mason, Rachel Saunders, and Hog Nelson.

  They reached the small shack, and Mark could see what it had originally been intended for. The whitewash on the wooden walls was peeling, but it still had an almost whimsical feeling about it. It was designed to look like a 1960’s cottage, complete with a small porch, a front door, and two shuttered windows perched on either side. About a yard in front of the porch stood an informational sign—a large map of the interior of the dome much like those found in theme parks or in museums.

  Mark could see that the sign was in almost pristine condition, save for a little fading here or there. Realizing that there was no weather to wear the structures down here, he knew that his original assessment of the light source above them—something emitting UV light—must be accurate.

  Carter had stepped up to the sign and was now tracing the outline of some of the areas on the main level with his index finger. Mark saw the corn field, greenhouses, and railroad drawn on the map, as well as the rock wall at the bottom-right corner.

  Further, Mark saw that there were areas of the station they hadn’t even considered. There was a section for geothermal testing—a section that also doubled as the station’s main electricity and power supply—but there was also a large section devoted to housing. Apparently the governments involved in the station’s construction were interested in long-term research, and it was quite possible that live-in quarters and including necessities were cheaper than regular travel back and forth to the surface.

  “Look at all of this,” Jen said quietly. She was poring over the map with scrutiny, trying to take it all in and commit it to memory.

  Mark knew she was in awe; he could see her scientific brain churning each and every detail. For her and the other scientists, this place must be a goldmine, he thought. Research station or not, this place was a Library of Alexandria in futuristic, theoretical technology and self-sustained living.

  A code some sectors of the modern developed world were desperately trying to crack.

  If only this place hadn’t been classified, Mark thought.

  “Look—” Carter said. His finger had landed on the rock wall and tunnel that Mark noticed earlier. He glanced up and saw the real-life version looming closer to them now. He explained that the tunnels only had a few entrances and exits in the station, one on this main level and another large one Level Nine: Rue Vert. “This tunnel has an access point on this level, behind the housing district. It’s actually right next to where we docked, but the catwalk we were on took us the wrong direction. Does it say anywhere exactly where the cave dumps out?”

  Dr. Pavan had walked to the other side of the map and answered Carter. “Yep. It does. This side’s a cross-section of the entire base, including the route the tunnel takes through the rock.”

  The group joined Sanjay on the opposite side of the map as he continued. “Just below that is a level that’s been crossed out for whatever reason. Level Ten: Rue Or.”

  Jen frowned at the naming convention. She understood the rudimentary French used, but it didn’t seem completely correct. Rue Or, not Rue d’Or. She shrugged it off. After all, she was an aspiring volcanologist, not a linguist. And although she had French-American roots, her upbringing in rural Arizona didn’t help much.

  Carter spoke up. “Okay, folks. Let’s get a plan together. We need to find whatever it is these assholes want and get a comm link set up to get another ride down here. These first three levels, starting at the top of the base and moving down, are pretty much just the catwalk we entered on and access to the lighting fixture. This level, Level Four, is the main scientific area, and levels five through nine are different research levels.”

  He glanced at Elliot Bingham, who seemed preoccupied with the ground but stood idly by the rest of the team members. He read through the descriptions of each level, finishing with the bottom four. “Looks like levels Ten through Fourteen are just maintenance—waste management, energy production, and other operations stuff.”

  He stepped back from the map, deep in thought. “Anyone have
any bright ideas? Where do we start?” He looked at Jen.

  She felt the question was directed toward her, but she had nothing. “I—I don’t know. I guess—” she thought hard, her eyes focusing on what looked like a large propane tank at the center of the field next to the small information shack. It was decorated and larger than most she’d seen; shrubs and bushes poked from the dirt around it. She wondered what it was intended to service, and why it needed to be so large and out in the open.

  Pull yourself together, Jen thought. She took a breath, looked at the map, and spoke. “We need to get there,” she said, pointing at one of the lower levels. “If they’re looking for something I’m an expert in, it’s going to be down there. The levels of the station dedicated to geothermal research.”

  A loud crack sounded from the stairs back at the lighting control room.

  “Move!” Carter yelled. Without hesitating, he dove behind the small shack and was followed by his team and the rest of the scientists. Elliot Bingham sprang into action as well, surprisingly spry. He ducked a little and hopped to the cluster of soldiers and scientists behind the building.

  “That was a gunshot,” Saunders said. “Who the—”

  Before she could finish the expletive, the air exploded with the sound of automatic rifle fire. The shots rang out from far away, but Mark wasn’t sure he could hear any of them landing—at least not close to them.

  “Saunders! Mason! You two are on the opposite wall. Nelson, with me. The shots are coming from the stairs leading down to this level—on three, lay down return fire in that direction. That should give us enough time to get the civs out of here. You guys—” he turned toward Mark, Jen, and the other scientists, “when you hear my team fire, I want you immediately taking off toward those caves. Head straight for the houses over there and try to use them as cover. Got it?”

  Before Mark could answer, Carter had stood and was preparing to fire at their attackers. Nelson remained on one knee, ready to turn and fire around the side of the small information building.

  “Three!” The four soldiers opened fire simultaneously, and Mark quickly pulled Jen up and pushed her forward.

  “Run!” he shouted at her back. Jen seemed to already be halfway across the corn field as Mark started his pursuit. He didn’t think to look back at the others, hoping they’d follow him.

  Their run was cut short as Jen reached the perimeter of the housing district. The backs of whitewashed houses, each one story tall and identical to one another, stretched to her left and right. A picket fence—no doubt a vanity decision to make the inhabitants feel more at home—ran along behind each of the houses. It was here that Jen stopped to wait for Mark.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sucking in air. “I was just trying to—”

  “Forget it. Keep going, Jen,” Mark responded as he caught up to her. His lungs were full, and he felt as if he could run forever. He wondered what—other than oxygen and nitrogen—was being pumped through the air here. He helped her over the small fence and turned to wait for the others. Dr. Pavan was huffing, but he was doing much better than the pudgy Lindsay, helped along by her taller, fitter assistant, Erik.

  The soldiers were still firing potshots, but Mark couldn’t tell if they’d made any progress or not. Their cover—the small white building—was blocking his view of the stairs, and he didn’t care to stay in the open for much longer. He turned back to follow Jen, hopping the fence and turning left around the closest house.

  He met Jen at the street of concrete that ran in between the two rows of houses and stopped to catch his breath. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Where are the others?” she asked.

  “They’re right behind us, but we should keep moving.”

  Jen nodded, but waited until she saw Dr. Pavan’s thin form emerge from behind the house. Without hesitation, she turned again and ran, leaving Mark to catch up. He heard the sound of gunfire again, but this time both parties were too far away for him to discern which team was shooting. As he began to follow after Jen, he had one final thought. Where’s Elliot Bingham?

  The man had simply disappeared after Carter’s instructions. Had he taken off earlier?

  Mark didn’t bother to wait for the answer. He followed Jen up the short street and toward the dark opening of the cave.

  CHAPTER 17

  A MOMENT AFTER THE CIVILIANS left, Carter ceased firing and took stock of the situation. The enemy was still far away, but he could count at least six—probably eight—soldiers. They were dressed similarly, wearing military fatigues and working in tandem.

  Carter was actually astonished they hadn’t been taken out, or at least suffered a casualty. Their group was half civilian, and they’d all been taken by surprise. The missed first shot meant that whoever was attacking them now was prepared for a close-range mission, not shooting them from half a mile away.

  He peered around the corner of the house again to get a better look. They had taken cover under the stairs during the counterattack and were now getting into a covered firing position. Carter looked to his three team members who were still taking turns firing a few rounds toward their opponents.

  “Before they get set up again, Saunders and Nelson, get to the houses and cover me and Mason. Mason, keep returning fire with me until they yell for us. We’re far enough away, and I don’t think they’ve got the firepower to get us from there.”

  Mason nodded, and Saunders and Nelson retreated.

  We don’t have the firepower, Carter thought.

  Soon Saunders and Nelson shouted for them to follow. “You’re covered, boss. Let’s go!”

  Carter and Mason turned away from the small building and ran toward their team at the line of houses. When they arrived, Carter looked up and down the street, sighed, and stopped. “Are they already in the caves? Either of you see the others?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nope,” Nelson added.

  Carter nodded. “Okay, well let’s assume they made it. Head out.”

  He took the lead, jogging through the street, trying to stay close enough to the houses that their would-be killers couldn’t spot them. He knew the small building would have blocked their retreat, and this housing district would provide ample cover, but he wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Carter held up a hand at the mouth of the cave. It had taken them a moment to spot it. He’d expected a large, gaping hole in the stone wall, but he knew they were in the right place when they reached it. The hole was about five feet wide and six feet tall. However, it was literally the only hole they’d come across. The entire face of the wall was smooth, and save for a few pockmarks and indentations here and there, it was almost perfectly flat.

  The others stopped behind their leader, and Carter turned on the flashlight mounted to his gun. Peering inside, he could see that the cave went straight for about one hundred yards and then curved slightly up and to the right. He hesitated, but then let out a soft whistle.

  Nothing.

  He took a few steps into the cave opening and whistled again.

  Still nothing. This time, he used his voice. “Hey. You guys in here?”

  He heard nothing in return, but continued walking slowly forward. He motioned for the rest to follow.

  Every twenty feet or so, Carter stopped and softly called out to the other team. He didn’t want to yell, unsure of who might hear, inside the cave or out, but he risked raising his voice a bit more. “Can anyone hear me in there?”

  “Carter?” A woman’s voice.

  “Jen, is that you?” Carter pointed his gun down the walkway, the flashlight beam illuminating the smooth interior of the cave. Still, he saw nothing but darkness stretching in front of him.

  “Yeah. Keep coming, you’re almost in. The path keeps bending up and to the right, but then it drops quickly down and veers back left. We’re just past that, in a sort of—clearing.”

  Carter and the three soldiers picked up their pace and got to the bend Jen was referring to. It indeed d
ropped quickly; if Carter hadn’t known about it, he might have tripped or twisted his ankle. The path turned left, and he let his flashlight beam lead the way.

  Turning into the new direction with his gun pointed forward, Carter finally saw the others. They were in a large cavern about twenty feet across and with a ceiling reaching about thirty feet high.

  “You guys alright?” Jen asked as he entered the clearing.

  The three others came in behind him, and Carter nodded. Realizing that they probably couldn’t see him, he verbalized his response. “We’re fine. I don’t think we hit anyone, but they certainly know we’re armed.”

  “And where we are,” Saunders added.

  “Maybe,” Carter replied. “They couldn’t see our retreat, just knew that we stopped firing. They’ll take awhile to search the main level before they get to these caves, so we’ve got some time.” Then, turning to Jen, Mark, and the rest of the crew, he asked, “Anyone see anything new? Find anything?”

  “Nope, not yet,” Mark said. “We just got here too. Had to move slow without light, but once we got to the bend, we had a little help.”

  Carter’s flashlight lit up Mark’s face, so he saw the man’s expression change to concern. “Bingham was already here—must’ve slipped back to the houses shortly after we started getting shot at. He showed up with his tiny flashlight at the bend and told us to follow him here.”

  It was only then that Carter noticed the smaller scientist at the edge of his flashlight’s peripherals. “Bingham,” he said. “Good to see you here. Thanks for helping my guys.”

  Bingham twitched but didn’t say anything.