Vincent

by Meyer, Jonathan G.

  They bandaged him up and made him as comfortable as they could. Then Michael pulled Claire to the side and in a gentle voice told her, “He is stable now. However, he has lost a lot of blood and needs transported to a hospital. I don’t have the equipment to determine if there is internal damage.”

  She was afraid he might say that. Unfortunately, it did not look like anyone was leaving anytime soon. With a confidence she did not feel, she said, “This storm will be over soon, then we’ll get out of here and get him some help.”

  ****

  Before the men started riding the elevator down from the house, and the place got crowded, Vincent wanted to complete the mission. He was monitoring the conversations between the people in the bunker and determined the situation was temporarily stable. He did not think it wise to expose himself to the newly arriving evacuees.

  Michael suggested they leave Jim to sleep and return to the main room. Claire wanted to stay. However, for her own peace of mind, she went to verify things were still going in their favor. Jack was sitting up, and looking groggy. Malcolm sat at the table staring at the ship, and anger radiated from his face. Neither had dared to get up.

  With others now available to watch the prisoners, Vincent finished the business that brought him to earth for the second time. He levitated from the floor to shoulder height and gracefully maneuvered himself to the office. Claire was the only one brave enough to follow and witnessed the ship retrieve the item it had come so far to obtain.

  Vincent hovered two feet over the shining metal sphere, and a wide beam reduced the device to ship size. A spindly arm extended from an open cargo hatch and reached down toward the pedestal. Long narrow fingers opened, grasped the sphere, and pulled it up into the ship. Both parts of the world changing orb were in his possession, and the prize was secure.

  Vincent closed the hatch, settled gently onto the pedestal, and faded away. To Claire, he said, “Tell no one I am here. No matter the situation. We cannot allow my presence to create unnecessary complications. I have safely stowed the objective of our mission, and it is time for me to begin the journey home.”

  “I understand Vincent,” replied Claire. “I’ll forget you’re here.”

  Before she left, she glanced at the monitors and the different views that cycled through depicting the interior of the mansion. On one camera she saw soaking wet men fighting to close the front door against a gale force wind. Through the rattling windows, she witnessed high-speed debris flying through the air and bouncing off obstructions. Claire found the scenes ominous and frightening. The monitor displaying the underground cavern where they entered was now completely underwater.

  She closed the bookcase and returned to the main room, where still dripping men were spilling from the elevator. Tired and overwhelmed, they quickly began spreading their water around. She went to get towels, while Michael checked them for injuries, and thirty minutes later there were twenty people and an invisible spaceship stuffed into a shelter designed for four.

  Each time the elevator doors opened, the roar from above became a little louder. The mansion was groaning under the pressure exerted on it by the incoming storm, and cracked and popped as supporting beams were weakened under the onslaught.

  Adar was the last one down. Being only the gardener, most of the men did not think twice about leaving him for last. He did not mind. It gave him the chance to scour the house, looking for those that might be left behind. The cook and housekeeper he found hiding in a kitchen cooler, and he was glad he checked. He imagined himself as a captain because the captain is always the last to leave when a sinking ship is abandoned.

  The mansion was being torn apart in a slow motion movie of destruction. Large chunks of plaster fell from the walls and ceilings, and smashed pictures littered the floor. As the storm progressed it became stronger, and windows shattered, propelling shards of glass throughout the interior.

  He ran through the house, jumping over obstructions and dodging flying debris. In the confusion of the evacuation, he was not certain how many had boarded the elevator, so he checked every room, screaming at the top of his lungs. When he was satisfied, he boarded the elevator and punched in the code. As the doors were closing, sixteen-inch beams from above were crashing to the ground, leaving the ceiling unsupported and in danger of collapsing. Another couple minutes and he would have been too late.

  Adar fell through the doors when they opened. Covered in dust, bloody, and exhausted. Claire saw him fall from across the room and ran to him. His only concern was, “Is everyone here?”

  Claire had been keeping track and replied, “You are the last. Everyone on the island is here.”

  His frantic expression relaxed, and he smiled with half open eyes. “That is good. Now I can relax.”

  He was asleep by the time Claire and Michael placed him on the bed next to Jim; content in the knowledge that all the inhabitants of Nautilus Island were safe from the raging storm.

  ****

  In the trophy room, Vincent watched the monitors as the cameras upstairs went out one by one, leaving the black and white snow of static to replace the views of hallways, doors, and rooms. The electricity went out, and backup batteries kicked in. Dim emergency lamps blinked on and cast long shadows against the walls. The situation was dire, but not untenable. The humans had food, shelter, water, and air. Now that Jim Thompson’s condition was stable, there was a good chance they would all live to see tomorrow.

  Shortly before the monitors stopped working, communications between Max and the ship faded and then ended abruptly. The tiny electronic fly had been swept away, to become a crumb in the piles of destroyed buildings, fences, and trees. Max would be the only casualty of the mission.

  Claire watched over her two recovering friends and kept Vincent informed by whispering to her badge. “Jim is still sleeping. Michael gave him a mild sedative after dressing the wound and said there wasn’t much more he could do. As soon as we get out of here, we must get him to a hospital.”

  “What about Adar Malik?”

  “He had some glass fragments stuck in him and numerous cuts and bruises. There wasn’t anything severe enough that a little rest and time can’t fix. He was very lucky.”

  “I watched some of his ordeal before the cameras were disabled. You are correct. He was exceedingly fortunate—and brave. How are our prisoners?”

  “Mister Smith is unusually quiet and not saying much. He and the thin man are sitting at the table, staying to themselves and whispering. Steven is keeping an eye on them.”

  “Steven?”

  “Yeah. He was in charge of Smith’s security team. After learning what his boss intended for the machine, he changed sides. It’s a good thing too. He’s the one that tackled Malcolm when he tried to kill Jim.”

  “We can do nothing more than wait. When the storm ends, we will exit this bunker, and I must make preparations to depart. My quest is nearing completion, and I wish to return home.”

  “All by yourself? Won’t you miss us?”

  “First we must get James Thompson aboard and provide the care he requires. Afterward, there will be a few loose ends to tie up. You are welcome to accompany me. However, my people are awaiting my return, and I must not delay.”

  Food, water, and blankets were passed out. Most survivors found a spot and settled in, knowing they were going nowhere for a while. Someone found a deck of cards and as a distraction organized a game.

  Time passed slowly while the storm raged on. For several hours there was a deep hum from the elevator shaft created by the wind and rain that tore at the island above. The banshee-like sound vibrated the shelter below.

  Eventually, the storm moved on, and its effects gradually faded away, leaving a stifling silence. Those that couldn’t sleep during the storm slept now. When the sun came out in the morning, they would begin to extricate themselves from the underground bunker that no one but Jack Smith thought necessary. The people inside were grateful for his paranoia.

  ****

/>   The elevator was stuck at the bottom of the shaft without power. Several of the thinner, more athletic men crawled through the escape hatch in the ceiling of the car. What they found was a daunting amount of debris that effectively blocked the exit.

  One of the men yelled down, “The shaft is filled with stuff. Like someone jammed it in. It might take days to get through.”

  The only other way out was through the cavern. With the monitors down, they had no way to verify if the water level had returned to normal. They might open the door to an overwhelming flood. After a quick discussion, they decided to take the risk.

  Four strong men gathered around the heavy steel door in the event it needed closed in a hurry. Cautiously, they released the latching mechanism and cracked the door open. Their reward was a dribble of water from the bottom, and the case for opening the door was reinforced. They pulled the handle and swung the door wide open.

  Flashlight beams revealed the water had receded to its previous levels, leaving behind small chunks of floating debris and a waterlogged interior. The platform outside the door, steps down to the dock, and the dock itself were miraculously undamaged. However, the small submarine was nowhere to be seen, apparently a victim of the savage storm.

  Claire stood outside the door and considered their means of escape. Vincent wanted to wait to make his move until after the other survivors were free and gone. Revealing himself now would result in too many questions, and only add to their problems.

  Steven stood next to Claire, staring at the descending rock where the passage disappeared underwater. He asked, “Is the cave swimmable? Can a good swimmer make it to the outside?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s a pretty fair distance. The tunnel doesn’t surface again until you get out.”

  “How far do you think it is?”

  “It’s at least a half mile—maybe three-quarters?”

  “What about the ship? Can it get us out like it brought you in?”

  Claire looked at the ground, uncomfortable with the answer. “No. The fewer people that know about Vincent—the better it is. There are too many anyway. The ship is not very big, and we don’t have the time to make multiple trips. We need to get Jim out of here and to a hospital.”

  “I don’t see how we can get out any other way. If we have to dig our way out, it will take a while.”

  Something kept skimming the edges of her thoughts. There had to be something they could do to clear the shaft or make use of the river. Finally, the question surfaced. Why would anyone build an emergency shelter without providing a sure way out?

  The missing sub removed one possibility and the clogged elevator shaft the other. They seemed to be out of options. Their shelter had become a prison.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They started work on clearing the elevator shaft. The survivors formed a line, and while two people picked at the blockage, the rest passed the debris down to a pile established in the corner.

  Claire was with Jim, who was now conscious and curious about everything. Adar lies in bed next to him, and Michael and Steven stand quietly at the foot of the bed. Steven assigned one of his men to deal with the two crazy prisoners so that he could be in on the ship’s business. The story was too compelling to miss.

  “I don’t understand why he shot me,” Jim said, “Where did he think he was going?”

  Steven replied, “That is an excellent question. I didn’t want him to shoot anybody else though.”

  Claire jumped in with, “You should have seen him. This guy tackled the thin man like a football player.”

  Jim shifted, winced, and addressed the man she referred to, “Thanks, Steven. Things might be a lot worse if you hadn’t acted. I was certainly not going to be much help.” He hesitated, shook his head, and added, “I can’t believe I let myself get shot.”

  Michael reminded him, “You need to stay still, or your wound will start bleeding again.”

  Jim was feeling better thanks to the painkillers Michael administered.

  “Thank you too, Michael. Judging by the company you keep, I would never have guessed you were so talented.”

  Steven acted hurt. “Hey…I’m one of those people.”

  Jim laughed, “Present company excluded. I know you guys had no idea what Jack had in mind.”

  Claire thought Jack still looked like he was planning something. “He is not saying anything. All he does is watch and whisper with his crony. I’m afraid he may try something.”

  Jim asked the room, “How much longer before they dig us out?” and Steven answered, “My guys tell me the elevator shaft is packed full and it could be a couple of days. They found pieces that might have come from the original house. It appears there is a lot of damage above us.”

  Adar was listening more than speaking, as he tended to do. He made an observation. “It appears we will have to wait to see. We cannot use the river, and the concrete passage to the ground above is blocked. We must be patient and keep working to clear the shaft.”

  The question that haunted Claire came to Jim. Why build a shelter where you can’t get out? “Something is not right here. I can’t believe Smith would contract to have a state-of-the-art underground shelter built and not consider what has happened to us. It just seems to me that the high possibility of that elevator getting blocked during a disaster would have been considered. The backup exit is not very foolproof either. It’s too far to swim, so without the submarine, you can scratch that way out also.

  No one disagreed. Similar thoughts had occurred to them all.

  An idea popped into Jim’s mind, and his face lit up. When he tried to sit up, he was immediately reminded not to. After the pain had left his features, he broke the somber mood with, “There is another way out!”

  “I was wondering about that myself. Why do you think there’s another way out, Jim?” asked Claire.

  “It just makes sense. Jack’s not going to allow himself to be trapped down here. There has to be a third exit. Steven, you should talk to Mister Smith. In the meantime, we need to search for another door or hatch. Somewhere down here is another way out.”

  Jack Smith sat at the table looking smug, while his underling mimicked him. Steven was angry and getting nowhere. He stood behind his chair and threatened to expose him to the eyes of the world. “You were going to disrupt the lives of thousands, maybe millions of people. Save yourself a lot of trouble and tell me where the exit is. We have injuries that need care now. If anybody gets hurt while digging us out of here, it’s because you refused to cooperate.”

  Jack said nothing. He faced straight ahead with that silly grin of superiority; frustrating the retired Marine all the more. His eyes, however, missed nothing. He had a clear view of the living area and everyone in it from his position at the table.

  A dozen people spread out to search the bunker. Word spread fast, and suddenly there were plenty of willing volunteers. Claire decided to search the small office, behind which was the bookcases and Vincent’s hiding place. While acting her part, she filled him in on what was happening. “We’ll know if there is another exit pretty soon. The shelter is not that big, and there’s a lot of people looking.”

  “How is James Thompson?”

  “He’s doing pretty well considering the circumstances. He understands why we have to get the others out first—before we can leave.”

  “My calculations support his theory. Considering Jack Smith’s paranoid personality, it is logical he would have redundant escape plans.”

  She was about to agree when someone yelled from the supply room. “There is a round hatch in here behind a canned food locker on rollers. It looks big enough for a person. Come check this out!”

  Within minutes the room was filled with hopeful onlookers, and the three-foot hatch was opened to reveal a dark steel tube leading up at a thirty-degree angle. Steps were welded in place every twelve inches that led up into darkness.

  “Does anyone have a light?” asked the man in front.

  Someone p
assed a flashlight to him, and he entered the tunnel, taking the steps two at a time. The people down below watched the progress he made by following the bouncing light. Several minutes later they heard him ask for help. “The hatch is jammed or something. I need more muscle.”

  The tunnel was the simplest of designs, meant to be used only as a last resort, and space inside was confined, leaving little room to maneuver. Another man entered the pipe and made his way up to assist the first. There was some grunting and a little cursing that echoed down the tube until there was a dual cry of success. The refuse holding down the hatch gave way, and the way out was opened. Bright light flooded the tunnel, and the two men disappeared into the glare of sunshine.

  There was silence. Those left below held their breath until someone finally yelled up, “Hey—what do you see?”

  The question was about to be repeated when a face appeared at the distant opening and cried, “Nothing. There is nothing left. The storm took it all.”

  ****

  The survivors gathered their few possessions and climbed the steps to freedom. Each person that rose from the tube was surprised by the devastation. Anything human-made was chewed into little pieces and scattered across the landscape. Debris could be seen bobbing in the ocean a half mile away.

  The pipe came out on the west side of the island, in an area rarely used. Trees were broken at their bases and fell according to the whim of the swirling winds. The mansion on the hill had been reduced to foundation footings and a few stubborn sections of walls.

  Most people would climb through the hidden door and look around in wide-eyed shock, sometimes blocking the people behind them. When Jack Smith was brought up, he sat on the ground and cried. He had other houses. This house, however, was special. It was where he grew up and a part of his heritage. Seeing his island paradise destroyed was too much to take.