by Nick Thacker
She was half-naked when Jen walked in on them in the living room. He froze, unsure of how to respond. The silence and hesitation told Jen all she needed to know, and she had just turned around and left; no words were exchanged.
It took three weeks for them to talk again, but only because Jen needed Mark to go pick up their son from camp. He’d kept Reese for the next three days, and they talked again briefly through text message after that. Things continued like that up until last night, when he’d called her for the first time since.
He sighed, wondering why he’d done it. He didn’t even remember the woman’s name he had almost slept with. It was a moment of weakness, but Mark also knew it went deeper than just that. If only she knew…
As they neared what seemed to be the end of the long hallway, Mark pushed the thoughts back in his mind. They came to a door that looked like it had been cut out of the concrete, blocking their way forward. Carter reached it first and turned the handle. It was unlocked. He pulled it open, and Saunders and Mason ran inside.
“Clear!” The rest of the group entered, Carter walking in last and closing the door behind him. It was dark, but a flashlight appeared from one of the soldiers’ packs, and Mark could tell immediately where they were.
“It’s the power station,” he said.
“Can we get the lights on?”
“There should be a fusebox somewhere; anyone see it?”
Before they could respond, Dr. Pavan flipped a switch inside a metal wall housing. They heard a hum, and the small power station was quickly bathed in a warm amber light. He waited to see if the fixture would get any brighter, but Jen called their attention to the other side of the room.
“Oh my God,” she said. They huddled around her and Mark noticed that one wall of the power station was made of glass. The light wasn’t coming from the inside of their room at all; it was coming from beyond this glass wall.
Stretching below them was an immense open space dotted with small buildings set around an interior circle. Inside this circle, there seemed to be some kind of plant set in rows…
“It’s a farm,” Saunders said.
“Come on,” said Hog. “Let’s get down there. You guys see stairs anywhere?”
There was a door in the other side of the small power room they were in, and the team followed Hog out and into the other hallway. About fifteen feet away, a tiny stairwell branched off to the right and down. Hog looked back and got the go-ahead from Carter.
The stairwell did indeed end one level below—Level Four, the same level as the open field—and they started walking toward the central circle of small buildings. Mark saw that one of the larger buildings was a barn, modernized in some ways but still sporting the characteristic arched roof. Next to it, he saw a small silo and what looked like a combine.
“Whoa, check this out,” Mason said. “Look up. The upper floors are open in the center, like the one we just came from.”
Sure enough, Mark looked up and saw more levels above their heads, each a giant circular hallway forming concentric circles stacked on top of one another, like rings that got smaller and smaller. Each level had windows that looked out onto the open area they were in. At the very top of the dome, a semi-transparent bubble hung from the ceiling like a futuristic chandelier. It was bright enough to provide the light currently lighting the dome’s interior. He felt like he was in an absolutely massive hotel atrium. The only thing missing were tall glass elevators.
The open space was huge, and it took them a good five minutes to reach the center. Along the way Mark took in the massive dome’s interior, open at this level to the ceiling. It was like being inside a glass bowl—a huge glass bowl.
Mark looked across the open expanse and saw a rock wall jutting from the ground opposite their location. The wall extended from the floor of this level to the roof of the sloping bowl, enclosing nearly a quarter of the level behind natural rock. They’d used this wall as an anchoring point; an earth-made foundation for the research station.
“Is that corn?” A question from the team caused Mark to look out over the open field on this level’s floor.
“It is,” Mark said. “And it looks like those stocks have actual corncobs on them!” He ran up to the first row of corn, eyeing it suspiciously. The team walked up behind him and began inspecting the crop for themselves.
“Do you think they’ve been preserved somehow?” Jen asked.
“For thirty years? I doubt it. Maybe it was planted, and then just kept growing, year after year?” Mason said.
Mark responded. “No, there’s no way. This crop is fresh, and it’s tilled properly. Everything’s still neatly in a row, and besides, without light, nothing can survive…” He squinted up at the source of the bright light above him. “Maybe that light up there’s a UV bulb, or something that emits Vitamin D. That makes sense, considering they’d need an alternative source of sunlight to grow anything here.”
Saunders spoke from in front of them. “Right. There could even be some kind of fiber optic cable that transfers UV light from the surface down to the light source.”
She walked along the field of corn and now peered around a corner. “Hey, they’ve got greenhouses here too, it looks like. Three, at least from what I can see.” She was looking back next to the stairs they’d descended. The group joined her, and for the first time Mark noticed a track—sort of a miniature railroad track—extending in both directions under the stairs. He’d been too preoccupied with the immensity of the space to have noticed it before. He followed the track around to where Saunders had pointed, and saw that the track curved right around the large greenhouses, complete with a small station situated outside the largest glass house.
“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 17
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 Li
ndsay 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 ba
ck 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?
