by David Cline
“The worst part is,” Wood said, “I will never be able to cash in my steak dinner I won.”
Wilkins grunted. “Don’t mention food right now, Wood. I’m serious. We are already suffering enough.”
A long silence settled over them. The only sounds came from the two of them continually shifting, trying to find any sort of tolerable position.
“How long do you think we’ve been down here?” Wilkins asked. “I’m starting to fear starving to death more than anything else.”
Wood clenched his eyes shut and cracked his jaw. It hadn’t felt right since Gisela had laid the vicious punch on him. Add that to the list of body parts he needed examined by a doctor, if they ever escaped. “At least two days,” he finally said. “Although, dehydration will most likely bring the reaper to us before anything else.”
“Well, if we don’t figure out something fast,” Wilkins said. “I am going to greet him like an old friend.”
Wood thought he saw a dim, red light flash in the distance. He blinked and realized he couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or not. Maybe he was beginning to see shapes and colors in the darkness. Was this what people saw when they began to hallucinate?
There it was again, a little closer. His mind raced as his brain attempted to make sense of it. In the dark, he realized there was only one rational explanation. Someone was approaching.
His body tensed, and the hair stood up on his arms. A sudden chill made him shiver. The movement caused the pain in his spine to spike again. An irrational panic began to set in. The idea that someone was so close frightened him more than it should have.
Beside him, Wilkins mumbled to himself, unaware of anything out of the ordinary.
Wood stared at the spot where the light had last appeared and breathed quickly. He was going to hyperventilate if he didn’t gain control of himself. The longer he was down here, the longer he went without water or food, the less control he had over his mental faculties. The situation was getting dangerous.
A cold hand gripped him over the mouth. Instinctively, he began to thrash. Adrenaline surged through his body and he ignored the pain. He fought and shook like a chained gorilla.
“You all right?” Wilkins asked. “Don’t have a heart attack on me Nick, I need you old buddy.”
The hand around Wood’s mouth maintained an iron grip but a soft finger began to stroke his cheek.
“Shhh,” came a soothing voice barely audible in his ear. He felt a warm kiss on his cheek.
Wood froze. He felt the hand loosen its grip around his mouth and rub warmth into his arms. His mind raced. The hopelessness that had prevailed disappeared with one word. Amara.
For a long moment he stood still and let his brain reboot. He shook the insanity out of his mind and began to strategize. He looked across the blackness toward Wilkins and used his boot to tap the letters NX in Morse code against the metal arms of the idle machine. NX was short for noise.
After the third time, Wilkins incoherent grunting stopped as he listened and received the message. Wilkins used the same strategy to tap the letters CFM short for Confirm. His voice rose and he began a tirade of random thoughts. “Popsicles are for the summertime.” He used his weight to rattle the metal. “In 50 years, when we are sitting in a retirement home, I wonder if we are going to play video games instead of bingo.”
Behind him, Wood felt the cold back of a knife begin to work on the straps binding his wrists. He decided to add his own shower thoughts to the outburst. “I just realized that it’s called a trunk because they used to strap travel trunks on the back of old automobiles.”
“Lasagna is really just spaghetti flavored cake.”
“Sleep is just a time machine for breakfast.”
“All food is dog food.”
Wood’s right wrist snapped free and he sighed in relief. For the moment, he was grateful he couldn’t see it. No doubt at least the first layer of skin had rubbed off.
“Didn’t I tell you not to mention food,” Wilkins yelled. “We wouldn’t be stuck down here if it wasn’t for you.” He shook the machine’s forks. “I wouldn’t be caged like a prisoner of war.”
“Take it easy,” Wood retorted. “Now is not the time to place blame.” His left wrist broke free and for the first time since he had regained consciousness, he stood up straight. The pleasure he felt could only be compared to putting on normal shoes after wearing ice skates that didn’t fit right, multiplied hundreds of times over. He stayed where he was and felt Amara move away toward Wilkins.
“You’re only saying that,” Wilkins said, “because you know it’s your fault.”
Wood ran his hands up and down his body. No broken bones. Maybe a few cracked ribs. “All right, I admit it. It is my fault. Now what? We have that figured out, how is that going to help us right now?”
“It makes me feel better to at least hear you admit it,” Wilkins said. “In fact, even being near you is worse than any torture technique I can imagine. I don’t want to hear another word come out of that sodden mouth of yours. Leave me alone with my thoughts.”
“Deal,” Wood said. “If we ever get out of here, we can settle this argument like kids on a playground. An old-fashioned fist-fight.”
“Done,” Wilkins said. “But just know, I’m not going to go easy on you.”
Wood felt a hand grasp him and pull him forward. He limped silently through the darkness, holding onto Amara’s soft hand like a lifeline. She flashed her headlamp every few seconds to get her bearings and ensure they weren’t about to knock themselves out on a low hanging crossbeam.
The cavern was enormous. Wood thought it could house an entire fleet of commercial airplanes and still have ample space to spare. Thousands of unmarked barrels and crates stretched into the darkness. It felt like the government’s secret warehouse of things they wanted to be kept secret. Danville would wet his pants.
Amara led them through a gap between stacks of barrels. Wood thought it felt like walking down an isle at Costco with commercial goods towering 30 feet above you on either side.
They approached an indentation in the barrels and Amara pulled both Wood and Wilkins in behind her. For a moment, none of them spoke and they stood still in the complete blackness. Their labored breathing was all Wood heard. He grasped his left side. His pounding heart sent a shockwave of pain to his brain with each elevated beat.
“What’s the plan?” Wilkins whispered through clenched teeth. “Usually I would propose we take them head on,” he paused and shifted, “but I’ve definitely been better.”
Amara flashed the small red light and gave both of them a quick appraisal. “I’m just happy you are still alive.” She hesitated and then clicked off the light. “I had my doubts.”
She removed a backpack and placed it silently before her. “While you two were busy getting captured,” she whispered, “I’ve been busy.” She slowly opened the zipper with her finger gliding along the teeth to dampen as much sound as possible. She withdrew four shiny German Lugers and placed two in each of their hands.
Wilkins exhaled a grateful sigh. “Can’t tell you how good it feels to have weapons in my possession again.” He paused and pulled the lever back. “There is not a snowball’s chance in Hell I am getting captured again. I would much rather meet my creator after a shootout than rot in chains.”
Wood grinned. “There is a high probability you will get your wish before the end.”
“Don’t start that macho crap again,” Amara reprimanded as she handed them ten magazines of ammunition each.
“These look identical to the ones we found in the hidden basement,” Wood said, exploring the metallic curves with light hands.
Amara rustled through the backpack. “That’s where I got them.”
“How did you find us? This cave system is bigger than the New York City subway system.”
“Later,” she said.
Her hand emerged from the top of the pack clutching what looked like a yellowing brochure. She held it out i
n front of her and the three of them put their heads together.
“I also found this in there,” she said. “It’s an old survey of the cave system dating all the way back to the late 1940’s.”
“A map?” Wilkins said, pressing closer.
With delicate fingers, Amara unfolded the fragile document and spread it out over the cave floor. The three of them knelt before it like subjects to a monarch.
A black swastika had been printed on the top left corner. Below it was a dizzying array of text and symbols which at first glance looked unorganized and unhelpful. The general shape of the cave system looked like a giraffe.
Wood squinted. A myriad of offshoots dotted the map in every direction. Small side tunnels possessed their own side tunnels. “No wonder they forgot about that little outpost,” Wood mused. “There must be hundreds of entrances to this cave system from here all the way into Chile.”
“Quite the security problem for a skeleton crew.”
Amara shifted on her knees. “I have no doubt that with the use of this map, we could disappear quietly and eventually escape into the mountains. The question is, despite everything, should we press on with the mission?”
Wood looked at her with admiring eyes. “I would love to,” he said. “But we don’t know if it’s too late. According to our blonde captor, the deed has already been done. Is it raining outside?”
Amara’s eyes widened and then she nodded slowly. “Like in the days of Noah.”
Silence persisted between them for a minute. Then Wood shook his head. “Even if it was not too late, they removed all articles from our person when they caught us. We are no longer in possession of the flash drive that would give Danville access to their satellites and God knows what else.”
A faint smile flickered across her face. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the exact same flash drive she had given Wood earlier.
Wood stared for a moment. “How on earth did you get that?”
“Duplicate,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “Danville sent two. I would relate the contents of the note that accompanied it, but I don’t want to risk angering you in such precarious circumstances.”
Wood chuckled. “I love Danville. He’s a sage.”
Amara’s attention returned to the map laid out before them. “This looks to be a comprehensive survey before they decided to utilize these caverns. The storage facility where we currently find ourselves is here.” She pointed toward a large dark shape that looked like a malformed hourglass. She moved her finger slightly upward. “This is where their corporate center is. All the personnel, train depot, facilities are located here.”
Wood thought back to their debacle inside the train tunnel as they approached the center. He shook his head. “I can’t think of any strategic advantage we have barreling back in that direction.” He held up one of the lugers. “Even with the element of surprise.”
Wilkins had not yet taken his eyes away from the map. Instead, he gestured and pointed toward the far end of the hourglass. “It looks as though there is a series of overlapping tunnels which may allow us to flank our target from the far side.” He paused and looked closely. “I’m no expert and who knows how trustworthy these lines are. But, if they represent passable tunnels, I think we could follow them to within striking distance.”
Wood followed the path Wilkins pointed out. “I like it,” he said. “It won’t be a bad spot to be when they discover our sudden disappearance either.”
“Buried in the obscurity of the mountain,” Wilkins said.
“Use their own secret design against them.”
Chapter 34
Wood and Wilkins followed Amara single file. The footpath ran between towers of wooden crates stacked high over their heads. Wood tripped over the floor several times. The ground, though relatively flat, was uneven and difficult to navigate in the pitch black. He ended up lifting his feet high with every step and felt like he was trying to walk with swimming fins on.
Every so often, Amara blinked on the red light. For a brief instant, Wood could see their surroundings like a snapshot photograph. His insatiable curiosity began to tingle inside as they passed through mountains of crates. What could they possibly be storing down here that required such vast quantities? The next time the red light flashed, Wood reached out and explored the old wooden surface, searching for a clue.
When their path intersected a wider path, Amara paused and let Wood and Wilkins catch up to her. Wilkins held out the map and they risked the light trying to ascertain their position. Wilkins let out a soft whistle. “The size of this cave system is enormous.” He pointed. “If this little shape represents this entire cavern…”
“Packed to the ceiling with suspicious looking crates,” Wood said. “This can’t all be food storage. Any guesses what we are walking amongst?”
In the dim red light, Wood caught an ironic smirk from Wilkins. “I have a few guesses.” He looked around, as though mentally cataloguing everything he saw. Amara looked up from the map. Wilkins pointed at random. “Alien spacecraft, the hand of Midas, Aladdin’s lamp, the Deathly Hallows, the one ring.”
“Do you guys take anything seriously?” Amara said, rolling her eyes and returning her attention back to the map.
Wilkins paused, deep in thought. “You know when you are driving and the car in front of you puts on their blinker and starts slowing down but takes forever to get far enough over to pass them?”
Amara looked up at him like a math teacher whose student just answered with a color instead of a number.
“I take that pretty seriously,” Wilkins said, in a solemn tone. He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Those people shouldn’t drive.”
Amara looked back and forth between them and then grinned. “Okay, you have a point there. That seriously drives me nuts.”
“Drives… her nuts,” Wood said, elbowing Wilkins in the side.
Amara laughed and rubbed her eyebrows. “You two are incorrigible”
Wood walked toward the nearest crate and softly rapped a knuckle against the surface. “I bet there is more history down here than anyone could properly itemize in one lifetime. I have a feeling a lot of the priceless art and artifacts stolen throughout Europe ended up down here.”
“A shame,” Wilkins said. “Hidden from the world. Left to rot in a secret Nazi cave.”
Amara folded the map with a quick motion. “If they have advanced their technology farther than anyone else, I bet there is a lot of sensitive data and equipment down here too.”
Wood nodded and craned his neck toward the high ceiling. “There has to be some kind of organization here, but from what I can tell, all these crates are unmarked.”
Just then in the distance, a bright light lit up the cavern like a rising sun. Rows of lights began firing toward them.
They ran forward deeper into the shadowy recesses of the enormous cavern. Their pace quickened now that the awakening lights illuminated their path before them. Wood noticed the crates and barrels seemed to age as they ran onward. It gave him the peculiar sensation of running through time.
Far behind them Wood heard a cry and a few seconds later, the shrill of a distant alarm echoed toward them.
Wilkins slowed and tilted his head. “Sounds like an old air raid siren.”
“Probably is,” Wood said, passing him and scanning the area ahead with a quick glance. There was no wall at the end of the cavern. Rather, the ceiling gradually began to descend until the space was no longer utilized for storage.
They rushed forward knowing what awaited behind them and reached the last of the crates. The wood was rotting in places where water had dripped down over the last half century. If time was not so precious, Wood would have loved to pry a few open and peek inside. He could only imagine what was stored so decidedly so long ago.
With the last of the crates came the end of the overhead lights as well. They squinted into the darkness and tried to navigate carefully forward. They ducked around hanging stalactit
es and hopped over shallow pits in the ground.
The ceiling lowered steeply and soon Wood had to crouch to continue forward, despite the protests from his lower back. The long shadows from the receding light made it hard to know where secure footing was. While trying not to step into a crack, Wood lurched forward into a hanging rock that jutted from the low ceiling, cracking his head right at the hairline. The accompanying echo sounded like a dry branch snapping in half.
“You all right old boy?” Wilkins said, following closely behind him.
Wood cursed under his breath and rubbed his forehead. A warm sticky substance ran down his face. The avoidable injuries were always the ones that irritated him the most.
Soon, all three of them were on their knees crawling on all fours. The siren continued to wail behind them, but it sounded so distant, it might as well have been in another town.
“I hope you’re right about these tunnels Adam,” Wood said. “It would be an awful shame to get stuck down here. Forever entombed with everything else.”
“I hope I’m right too.” Wilkin’s voice was full of doubt and his breathing was labored. “There was nothing on the map that hinted of this.”
“Did you look at the key?” Amara said over her shoulder. “The array of symbols that looked like a doctor’s note.” She ducked low where the ceiling and floor seemed to come together. “It wasn’t the most organized way to make a map, but it definitely warns of this squeeze.” She laid completely flat with a cheek pressed flat against the ground and wiggled forward. “May your fears be allayed,” she grunted. “We are where we planned to be.” With a fury of feet kicks, like an Olympic swimmer trying to be the first to touch the wall, she passed through the low section and disappeared.
Wilkins paused and stared at the place Amara had just vanished from. He then looked down at his barrel chest. “I hate to break it to you guys, but there is not a chance in holy hell I am getting through there. We are going to either have to find another entrance or find some TNT and widen this opening.”
“Does it get any wider ahead?” Wood called.
