by P. W. Child
“Aye, that I can relate to.”
The flare died too quickly and the slowly gaining blackness draped itself like a cloak over them.
“Sam,” Purdue said.
“On it,” Sam replied and sank to his haunches to retrieve another flare from the bag.
A clanging in the dark ensued as Purdue fiddled with the dusty machine.
“This is not your run-of-the-mill generator. It is some sort of contraption designed for various functions, I’m sure, but for which, I have no idea,” Purdue said.
Sam lit another flare, but did not see the moving shapes at a distance coming up in the tunnel behind them. Nina crouched next to Purdue to examine the cobweb-riddled machine. Housed in a solid metal frame, it reminded Nina of an old washing machine. The front was lined with thick knobs, each with four settings, but the lettering had been eroded so there was no way to tell what they were supposed to set.
Purdue’s long, trained fingers fiddled at the back with some wiring.
“Be careful, Purdue,” Nina urged.
“Don’t fret, dear,” he smiled. “I’m moved by your concern, though. Thank you.”
“Don’t get cocky. This place is more than enough for me to deal with right now,” she snapped with a slap to his arm that made him chuckle.
Sam could not help but feel uncomfortable. As a world-renowned journalist he had been in some hairy places before, facing some of the world’s most wicked people and locations, but he had to admit it had been a long time since he felt so unsettled by atmosphere. Had he been a superstitious man, Sam would well have imagined that the tunnels were haunted.
A loud crack and a discharge of sparks came from the machine, followed by a labored, inconsistent rhythm at first. Nina and Purdue fell back from the sudden life of the thing and heard the engine gradually find its pace into a steady rotation.
“It idles like a tractor,” Nina remarked to no-one in particular. The sound reminded her of her childhood, when she woke up before dawn to the sound of her grandfather’s tractor starting up. It was a rather sweet reminiscence here in the abandoned alien dwelling of ghosts and Nazi history.
One by one, the meager wall-mounted lights flickered to life. Their hard plastic covers hosted years of dead bugs and dust, greatly impairing the illumination of the bulbs inside. It was astonishing that the fine wiring was still effective, but, as expected, the light was faint at best.
“Well, at least we can see where we’re going,” Nina said as she looked around at the seemingly endless stretch of tunnel, slightly turning to the left a few yards ahead. For some unintelligible reason, that bend gave Sam a bad feeling, but he kept it to himself. He could not seem to shake this feeling of foreboding—and for good reason.
From behind them, in the ill-lit throat of the subterranean world they found themselves, five small shadows shifted in the dark just as before when Nina failed to notice.
“Let’s go and see what is around that side,” Purdue suggested, and started walking with the zipped bag slung over his shoulder. Nina pulled Sam along and they walked in silence and curiosity with only the low buzz of the turbine and the sound of their footsteps echoing in the vast space.
“Purdue, we need to make this quick. As I reminded you yesterday, Sam and I have to get back to Mongolia soon,” Nina urged. She had given up on trying to figure out where Renata was, but she hoped to return to Bern with some consolation, whatever she could do to assure him of her loyalty. Sam had left the task of probing Purdue for Renata’s whereabouts to Nina, because she held favor with him more than Sam.
“I know, my dear Nina. And we will sort all that out as soon as we have discovered what Ernaux knew, and why he sent us to Wewelsburg, of all places. I promise I’ll make good on it, but for now, just help me find this elusive secret,” Purdue reassured her. Not once did he look at Sam when he promised his assistance. “I know what they want. I know why they sent you back here.”
That was enough for now, Nina realized, and decided not to press him any further.
“Do you hear that?” Sam asked suddenly, his ears piqued.
“No, what?” Nina frowned.
“Listen!” Sam exhorted with a serious expression. He stopped in his tracks to better distinguish the tapping and ticking behind them in the darkness. Now Purdue and Nina heard it too.
“What is that?” Nina asked with a distinct quiver in her voice.
“I don’t know,” Purdue whispered, holding his open hand up to calm her and Sam.
The light from the walls brightened and dimmed constantly as the current rose and fell through the age-old copper wiring. Nina looked back and gasped so loudly that her terror echoed through the massive warren.
“Oh, Jesus!” she cried and clutched at the arms of both her companions with unspeakable horror on her face.
Behind them five black dogs appeared from the shadowy lair of the distance.
“All right, how surreal is that? Am I seeing what I think I am seeing?” Sam asked, rearing to bolt.
Purdue remembered the animals from the Cologne Cathedral where he and his sister were trapped. These were the same breed with the same tendency toward absolute discipline, so they had to be the same dogs. But he had no time now to ponder on their presence or their origin. They had no choice but to . . .
“Run!” Sam shouted, and dragged Nina half off her feet from the velocity of his dash. Purdue followed suit as the animals took off at full speed behind them. The three explorers raced around the bend of the unknown structure, hoping to find some place to hide or escape, but the tunnel continued without change as the dogs gained on them.
Sam turned and cracked a flare. “Go! Go!” he shouted at the other two while he acted as barricade between the beasts and Purdue and Nina.
“Sam!” Nina cried, but Purdue pulled her forward in the flashing pale light of the tunnel.
Sam held the fiery stick out ahead of him, waving it at the Rottweilers. They stopped at the sight of the bright blaze and Sam knew he had only a few seconds to find a way out.
He could hear Purdue and Nina’s footsteps gradually grow quieter as the distance between him and them grew. Quickly, his eyes darted from side to side, while he kept his gaze on the position of the animals. Growling and salivating, they curled back their lips in furious threat at the human with the fire stick. A sharp whistle floated through the yellowish pipe, instantly beckoning from the far end of the tunnel, Sam estimated.
Three of the dogs turned immediately and ran back, while the other two stayed put as if they had heard nothing. Sam reckoned they were being manipulated by their master; much like a shepherd’s whistle could control his dog with a series of different calls. This was how he controlled their movements.
Genius, Sam thought.
Two remained to keep an eye on him. He noticed that his flare was growing weaker.
“Nina?” he called. Nothing came back. “That’s it, Sam,” he told himself, “you’re on your own, lad.”
Out of flares, Sam took his camera and set it to flash. At least the flash would temporarily blind them, but he was mistaken. The two buxom bitches ignored the bright light of the camera, yet they did not advance. The whistle sounded again and they started to growl at Sam.
Where are the other dogs? he thought, standing dead still.
His question was answered shortly after, when he heard Nina screaming. Sam did not care if the animals caught up with him. He had to come to Nina’s aid. With more courage than common sense the journalist hightailed it in the direction of Nina’s voice. On his heel he could hear the clicking of the dogs’ nails on the cement as they chased him. At any moment he expected to feel a leaping animal’s heavy carcass land on him, nails ripping at his skin, and fangs sinking into his throat. In his sprint he looked back to see that they did not gain on him. From what Sam could deduce, it appeared that the dogs were being used to corral him, not kill him. Still, it was not a good position to be in.
Progressing beyond the bend, he noticed two othe
r tunnels shooting off from this one and he prepared to make a dash into the higher of the two. One above the other, it was bound to break the speed of the Rottweilers when he jumped for the higher entrance.
“Nina!” he called again, and this time he heard her far away, too far to figure out where she was.
“Sam! Sam, hide!” he heard her cry.
With an extra jolt of speed he leapt for the higher entrance, a few yards before the ground-level entrance of the other tunnel. He struck the cold, hard concrete with a devastating thud that nearly crushed his ribs, but Sam quickly clawed his way up into the gaping hole about twenty feet in height. To his dismay, one dog followed, while the other yelped from the impact of her failed attempt.
Nina and Purdue had the others to deal with. The Rottweilers had somehow doubled back to ambush them from the other side of the tunnel.
“You know that means all these channels are connected, right?” Purdue mentioned, as he punched in the information on his tablet.
“This is hardly the time to chart the fucking labyrinth, Purdue!” she frowned.
“Oh, but it would be the opportune time, Nina,” he retorted. “The more information we get on the access points, the easier we’d be able to escape.”
“So, what are we supposed to do about them?” she pointed at the milling dogs around them.
“Just keep still and speak in a quiet voice,” he advised. “If their master wanted us dead, we’d be doggy fodder by now.”
“Oh, lovely. I feel so much better now,” Nina said, as her eyes found the tall human shadow stretching against the smooth wall.
Chapter 31
Sam had nowhere to go, except for running aimlessly into the blackness of the smaller tunnel he was in. One oddity, though, was that he could hear the hum of the turbine much louder now that he was away from the main tunnel. In all the frantic rushing and the overwhelming thrashing of his heart, he could not help but admire the beauty of the well-groomed dog that had cornered him. Her black pelt had a healthy sheen even in the meager light and her mouth changed from a sneer to a droopy smile as she started to relax, just standing in his way, panting.
“Oh, no, I know your kind well enough not to fall for that friendliness, lass,” Sam objected to her docile manner. He knew better. Sam decided to make his way deeper into the tunnel, but at a normal pace. The dog could not give chase if Sam gave her nothing to pursue. Slowly, ignoring her intimidation, Sam tried to act normal and started down the dark corridor of concrete. But he was cut short in his endeavor by her disapproving growl, a menacing roar of warning that Sam could not help but heed.
“You are welcome to come with me,” he said cordially, while inside his veins adrenaline was flooding his system.
The black bitch was having none of it. Growling in a malicious sneer she reiterated her position and took a few steps closer to her target, for good measure. It would be foolish of Sam to try to run, even from just one animal. They were simply faster and deadlier, not an adversary to be challenged. Sam sat down on the floor and waited to see what she would do. But the only reaction his bestial captor exhibited was to sit down in front of him like a sentinel. And that was exactly what she was.
Sam did not want to hurt the dog. He was a stalwart animal lover, even to those who would rip him to shreds. But he had to get away from her, in case Purdue and Nina were in peril. Every time he moved, she would growl at him.
“My apologies, Mr. Cleave,” a voice spoke from the dark cavern deeper in from the entrance, startling Sam. “But I cannot let you get away, you see?” The voice was male, and spoke in a heavy Dutch accent.
“No, no worries. I’m quite the charmer. Many people insist on the thrill of my company,” Sam replied in his well-known sarcastic dismissal.
“I’m glad you have a sense of humor, Sam,” the man said. “God knows there are too many uptight people out there.”
The man came into view. He was dressed in overalls, just like Sam and his party. A very attractive man he was, and his manners appeared to match, but Sam had learned that the most civilized and learned of men were usually the most depraved. After all, the men of the Brigade Apostate were all highly educated and mannered men, yet they could resort to violence and brutality in a blink. Something about the man who confronted him told Sam to tread lightly.
“Do you know what you are searching for down here?” the man asked.
Sam remained quiet. In truth he had no idea what he, Nina, and Purdue were looking for, but he was not going to entertain the stranger’s inquiries either.
“Mr. Cleave, I asked you a question.”
The Rottweiler growled, moving closer to Sam. It was admirable, and terrifying, that she could react accordingly without any order.
“I don’t know. We only followed some blueprint we discovered under Wewelsburg,” Sam replied, keeping it as simple as he could. “And you are?”
“Bloem. Joost Bloem, sir,” the man said. Sam nodded. Now he could place the accent, although he did not know the name. “We should join Mr. Purdue and Dr. Gould, I think.”
Sam was puzzled. How did this man know their names? And how did he know where to find them? “Besides,” Bloem mentioned, “you’d have gotten nowhere up this tunnel. It is solely for ventilation.”
It dawned on Sam that the Rottweilers could not have entered the network of tunnels the same way he and his colleagues did, therefore the Dutchman had to know of another entry point.
They made their way out of the secondary tunnel back to the main hall where the lights still labored to keep the place lit. Sam thought of cold-cocking Bloem and face dealing with his pet, but before he could formulate any plans, three figures appeared in the distance. They were followed by the rest of the dogs. It was Nina and Purdue walking with another young man. Nina’s face lit up when she saw that Sam was intact and unscathed.
“Now, lady and gentlemen, shall we proceed?” Joost Bloem suggested.
“Where to?” Purdue asked.
“Oh, come now, Mr. Purdue. Don’t play with me, old chap. I know who you are, who all of you are, although you have no idea who I am and that, my friends, should make you very wary about toying with me,” Bloem explained as he took Nina gently by her hand and led her away from Purdue and Sam. “Especially when there are ladies in your lives who could come to harm.”
“Don’t you threaten her!” Sam sneered.
“Sam, take it easy,” Nina implored. Something about Bloem told her that he would not hesitate to get rid of Sam, and she was correct.
“Listen to Dr. Gould . . . Sam,” Bloem mocked.
“Excuse me, but are we supposed to be familiar with you?” Purdue asked as they started walking along the giant passage.
“You of all people should be, Mr. Purdue, but alas you are not,” Bloem replied amicably.
Purdue was reasonably concerned at the stranger’s remark, but he could not recall ever meeting him before. The man held firmly onto Nina’s hand like a protective lover, showing no hostility, though she knew he would not let her break away without considerable regret.
“Another friend of yours, Purdue?” Sam asked with a corrosive edge.
“No, Sam,” Purdue barked back, but before he could dissuade Sam’s assumption, Bloem addressed the journalist directly.
“I am no friend of his, Mr. Cleave. But his sister is a close . . . acquaintance,” Bloem leered.
Purdue’s face grew ashen with shock. Nina held her breath.
“So please try to keep things between us affable, yes?” Bloem smiled at Sam.
“Is that how you found us?” Nina asked.
“Of course not. Agatha had no idea where you were. We found you courtesy of Mr. Cleave,” Bloem revealed, basking in the blooming distrust he saw growing in Purdue and Nina toward their journalist friend.
“Bullshit!” Sam exclaimed. He was livid, seeing the reaction of his colleagues. “I had nothing to do with this!”
“Really?” Bloem asked with a devilish grin. “Wesley, show them.�
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The young man who walked at the back with the dogs obliged. From his pocket he brought out a device that looked like a cell phone without buttons. On it was a compact view of the area and surrounding gradients to signify the terrain and ultimately the maze of structures they were traversing. Only one red spot throbbed, moving slowly along the coordinates of one of the lines.
“Look,” Bloem said, and Wesley stopped Sam in his tracks. The red dot stopped on the screen.
“You son of a bitch!” Nina hissed at Sam, who shook his head in disbelief.
“I had nothing to do with this,” he said.
“Odd, since you are on their tracking system,” Purdue said in condescension that had Sam fuming.
“You and your fucking sister must’ve planted this on me!” Sam screamed.
“Then how would these guys get the signal? It has to be one of their trackers, Sam, to show up on their screens. Where else would you have been tagged if you had not been with them before?” Purdue insisted.
“I don’t know!” Sam retorted.
Nina could not believe her ears. Confounded, she stared mutely at Sam, the man she trusted with her life. All he could do was to vehemently deny involvement, but he knew the damage was done.
“That aside, we are all here now. Best cooperate to avoid anyone getting hurt, or killed,” Bloem grinned.
He was pleased at how easily he could wedge a chasm between the companions by the perpetuation of a little distrust. It would defy his purpose if he revealed that the council tracked Sam by way of the nanites in his system, similar to that which Nina’s body contained in Belgium before Purdue gave her and Sam vials to swallow, vials that held the antidote.
Sam did not trust Purdue’s intentions and made Nina believe that he had also taken his antidote. But by not taking the fluid that could neutralize the nanites in his body, Sam had inadvertently allowed the council to comfortably locate him, and to follow him to the site of the Ernaux secret.
Now he was effectively labeled traitor and he had no proof to argue otherwise.
They came to a sharp turn in the tunnel, faced with an enormous vault door fixed into the wall where the tunnel ended. It was a tarnished gray door with rusty bolts that reinforced it along the sides and across the middle. The group stopped to examine the massive door in front of them. Its color was a pale gray cream hue, only slightly different to that of the walls and floor of the tubes. On closer inspection they could see the cylinders of steel that latched the heavy door to the surrounding doorframe set in the thick concrete.
