“Gordinski, we are onboard and ready for evac.”
The lander shuddered and tilted, Pierce grabbed a handle bar and steadied herself as the floor shifted. The drag of gravity intensified as the ship accelerated. Howard slid into a seat, slamming the buckles of the safety harness into position.
Pierce found her own seat. Wong walked easily, adjusting to the changing angles as the ship maneuvered.
The ship’s interior rang with the blows of meteor fragments striking the hull and then they were clear.
“We all good back there?” Gordinski asked from the pilot’s capsule.
“Five by five,” Pierce replied and closed her eyes.
NET NEWS FEED: American Water Corporation is reporting the loss of their primary lunar water prospecting facility after a severe meteor impact event. Due to the catastrophic nature of the event, the underground facility was destroyed with no survivors. American Water, chief of operations, Dylan Mali, said today that the future of lunar prospecting lies with current and future generations of autonomous robotic units, such as the Wong model of service android. Claims that Black Light Security military units were involved in the destruction of the facility were categorically denied by both American Water and in a written statement by Black Light Security.
GUARD DUTY
S.D. Perry
PFC Gaines was a horror nerd. The nerd thing, whatever, half the squad was nuts about video games or guns or football; everybody had their thing. Daniel “Robbie” Robb liked mixed martial arts, himself—Anderson Silva was the GOAT—and he enjoyed a good horror flick every now and again...but Gaines didn’t want to talk about Jigsaw or Leatherface, he was a book guy, and he’d read every story ever about caves and monsters and military experiments gone wrong, and he wanted to share. He wanted to talk about what was in the chamber behind them, and what it might mean.
Fucking Gaines. It was 0230 and they were nearly a mile into the side of a mountain, alone. The engineers had run a line of lights all along the roof of the main tunnel, but the lights weren’t that bright and parts of the tunnel were wide. Heavy shadows gathered to either side of the long slope in front of them, leading up from the crack they’d been set to guard. The few openings to dead-end side tunnels were as black as deep space.
Robbie leaned against the cold stone wall, half-listening to Gaines tell another stupid story, wishing he was down here with anyone else. The squad had been pulled off a base rotation in Afghanistan a week ago, flown to the Al Hajar mountains in Oman to set up camp support for a trio of military scientists, all officers. The brass joined a small group of civilians already working the “dig,” a tunnel system uncovered in a spring landslide. The lead Army doc, Captain Pruitt, had locked things down tight. No access to the BFD room that had everyone spazzing out without permission and an escort. The civilians were pissed, but they were working on Federal grant money and couldn’t say shit. Sarge said the only reason they weren’t already locked out was because they’d agreed to help Captain Pruitt. Although why the Captain thought he’d get anything useful from a couple of academic gray-hairs and a half dozen sloppy grad students, Robbie couldn’t figure.
Robbie had initially been happy about getting pulled out of the boiling, deadly desert to babysit scientists in an insurgent-free zone, but this was his first shift watching the Rosetta Room and he fucking hated it. A million tons of rock were balanced over his head and the cold was bone-chilling and Gaines wouldn’t shut the fuck up with his creepy shit. Robbie was only letting him talk because the silence of the tunnels was worse. Except for a few bats and bugs right at the jagged opening, the system was totally dead. No moss, no spiders or whatever, nothing. All the guys who’d pulled watches had talked about the unnatural quiet and Robbie had nodded along, but he hadn’t really understood. It was like being buried alive.
“... so the narrator and the pilot go down into the ice caves and find all these murals that tell about how these creatures had their own civilization, millions of years before mankind even existed,” Gaines said. “And they learn that those monsters they found, that they thought were dead? They’re actually immortal. And then they start hearing all these sounds coming out of the dark, and that’s when they realize they’re not alone down there in the tunnels.”
“What the fuck?” Robbie snapped. “Are you kidding me? Can you talk about anything else?”
Gaines pushed his glasses up his nose. “I can’t think about anything else. Have you looked in there?”
He nodded at the crack between them. Three feet across at the middle, and tapering slightly at the top and bottom, it ran all the way up the eight-foot wall at the very end of the tunnel system. It reminded Robbie of a cunt, but not in a good way. Absolute blackness lay on the other side. They were calling it the Rosetta Room because it had a bunch of languages carved on the walls, like that one famous stone.
“Yeah, and?” Robbie asked. “Writing on the walls, a rock in the middle.”
“There are drawings, too,” Gaines said. “Of things, with claws. And it’s not just a rock, it’s some kind of altar. With an inscription, and when the translation programs are done running—”
“Yeah, they’re going to figure it out and then somebody will read the inscription,” Robbie said. “You said already. Here’s the thing, though—you really think anything’s going to happen? Do you actually believe in magic occult shit? Really?”
“Actually, I don’t,” Gaines said. “I mean, I never have before. But dude, if it’s all bullshit, why are we down here guarding it? The university team only got here two weeks ago. When they saw what they had, they sent an urgent request for extra funding, right? With pictures. And within days, we’re here to back up Pruitt, who also got pulled out of some active shit to take this thing over. Since when does the military give a crap about ancient runes? Somebody high up on the chain doesn’t think it’s bullshit, at all.”
“So? Lot of people believe in angels, doesn’t make ‘em real. And you’re overthinking it, dude. Isn’t it way more likely that the pictures got flagged because it’s some kind of code? Sarge says maybe terrorists have been using it to pass messages, or something.”
“I don’t think so,” Gaines began, but before he could get going, they heard sounds. Voices, but distorted by distance, unintelligible. A woman was talking, her voice rising and falling, an edge of desperation to her tone. The sound swelled through the tunnel, carrying through the barely contained blackness.
Had to be Datlow. One of the gray-hairs, an American archaeologist in her fifties. Total lez, probably, unless she was banging the equally unappealing language prof, the Arab with the nose hair problem.
Robbie and Gaines straightened up and unslung their M4s. Someone spoke, a brisk, male response. Captain Pruitt? Another voice took up, deep and rasping. The Arab professor, Safar. He sounded even more agitated than Datlow.
The voices went back and forth, and there were footsteps, lots of them. Robbie held the M4 across his chest and stared up the tunnel’s throat, waiting for the visitors to come into view. The lights along the passage’s roof were dull and yellow, illuminating only a narrow trail in the deep darkness. The thin, glowing line stretched all the way to where the tunnel branched, nearly a quarter mile ahead of them. There were a couple of battery lamps at their feet, but they were small and didn’t keep the shadows from creeping.
Their helmet radios crackled, even as the first shafts of light swung into the tunnel from the west, tiny sparks floating in front of shadowy walking figures. Five, six people.
“This is Washington,” the voice in Robb’s ear crackled. “Captain Pruitt and Lieutenant Barr are with me an’ Young, and the professors. Uh, Dr. Datlow and Dr. Safar.”
“Copy,” Robbie said, looking at his watch. 0250. He wasn’t sorry that there were more people in the tunnels, but why so many? Why so late?
Gaines looked stricken. “They figured it out,” he breathed, covering the helmet’s mic. “Oh, this is bad, I’m telling you.”
; “Shut up,” Robbie said. The woman was talking again, Robbie picking out a few words as the party approached. “...can’t...responsible...wait...”
Captain Pruitt said something Robbie didn’t catch. He was in the middle of the group; Robbie could tell by his height and the way he walked, a long stride, shoulders back, head up. The two profs were on either side of him, yammering away. Barr was carrying a laptop case, hurrying to keep up on his short legs. PFCs Washington and Young were on either end, the only ones wearing helmets, their M4s slung. As they got closer, Robbie could see that the captain wore his sidearm, a Sig P320.
The conversation got louder, but not much clearer.
“It says what will happen,” Safar said. “Please, you have to consider how long ago these things were written! How could they have known about specific wars, or space travel, or genetic engineering?”
“Another Nostradamus,” Pruitt said, dismissively. “Science fiction from the past.”
“If you don’t believe any of it, then why bother with this?” Datlow asked. “There’s so much to digest here, we should study this further. There’s no reason to do this now.”
“There’s no reason not to,” Pruitt said. “I said I would listen to you, but you’re both talking nonsense. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Then why go through with it?” Datlow asked again. She had sharp blue eyes and the thin lips of a maiden aunt. “You read the translation. It says that a man of war will secure the end by his ignorance. How can you just ignore such specificity?”
“Because my orders are to see if there’s anything to this, and that’s what I’m going to do,” Pruitt said. “You’re doctors, both of you. Honestly, I’m surprised at this...this reticence to debunk a prophecy in the simplest way possible. Your superstitions are not at all compatible with science. I’m not the one demonstrating ignorance here.”
The group reached Robbie and Gaines and salutes were exchanged. Washington and Young were antsy, shoulders up, jaws tight. Young was high-strung in general, but Declan Washington was usually as cool as shade. Robbie wondered what they’d heard, walking in.
“In other circumstances I would agree,” Datlow said. “But we translated the words in the very year the prophecy names, a prophecy thousands of years old. Do you understand how astronomically small the chance of that is?”
“That’s assuming we’ve got all of the numbers correct, and I’m not convinced of that,” Pruitt said.
“You’ve touched the stone,” Safar said. “You must have felt it. Its power.”
Pruitt looked at him with disdain. “Lieutenant Barr and I are going into the chamber now. Washington, Young, please escort the doctors back to camp.”
The relief on the guys’ faces was almost comical.
“Yes, sir,” Young said, nodding so rapidly that his helmet shifted.
“Doctors?” Washington said, and he gestured at the long ascent.
Lucky fuckers. Robbie didn’t like how this was sounding at all, and Gaines was dancing around like he had to pee, his mouth a pinched line.
“Captain, please,” Safar said. “Please, it costs nothing to wait another day, to talk about this!”
“This is a US military operation,” Pruitt said. “It costs a lot, actually, and we’ve all got other places to be.”
He nodded at Barr, who sidestepped into the chamber. A second later the lieutenant threw the switch that lit up the room, a metal clatter of sound. The tunnel’s lights dimmed slightly as the generator took on the additional load. The tunnel seemed to grow wider, like the dark had suddenly gained strength, readying itself to swallow them.
A yellow glow spilled from the crack. The captain turned and slid into the opening after the lieutenant, jacket scuffing against the dry rock.
“Doctors?” Washington repeated.
“We have to go,” Datlow said, her voice strangely inflectionless. “Now. We have to go now.” She turned and started walking quickly back up the slope. Young hurried to catch up, shooting an anxious look back at Washington.
“We can’t let him do this,” Safar called after her, and Robbie stepped in front of the crack, ready in case the Arab tried anything. He almost hoped that he would, that something would break the incredible tension that had gathered in the tunnel, thicker than the shadows. What was this crazy shit?
Datlow looked back at them, at Safar, and Robbie saw how scared she was, her eyes bright with it.
“They’ve got guns, Ahmed,” she said. “And he’s probably right. Undoubtedly. It’s—I need to call my daughter.”
She turned back toward the exit and broke into a jog, Young at her side.
“Let’s go.” Washington put his hand on Safar’s shoulder, trying to pull him away.
“You have to stop him,” Safar said, looking at Washington, then at Gaines and Robbie. His dark gaze was feverish and bleak. His nose hair quivered. “It’s the end of the world in there, don’t you understand? You can’t let him recite the inscription in that room. Please, please stop him before he—”
Washington yanked the babbling professor’s arm hard enough to back him up a step. “I said, let’s go. Don’t make me keep asking.”
“What is it?” Gaines asked, looking at Safar. “A curse? Another dimension?”
Safar’s miserable gaze had fixed on the crack in the wall. He didn’t answer.
“Ahmed!” Datlow’s shout echoed through the long tunnel. Washington yanked the Arab’s arm again and the man stumbled but didn’t look away from the crack. He’d started muttering under his breath, reciting a prayer or some shit.
Robbie pointed his rifle at Safar. Whatever else was going on, the Arab had been asked and then ordered to leave. He could get the fuck out of Robbie’s face, pronto.
Safar turned abruptly and started after Young and the woman, Washington on his heels, hurrying him along with a few more pushes. Within seconds, Safar started to run, too. The echo of boots on rock filled the corridor as all of them fled for the exit. In spite of the cold, Robbie prickled with sweat. The fuck was going on? Had everyone gone insane?
Gaines turned and looked at Robbie. His voice was a harsh whisper. “We need to get out of here.”
“You need to calm the fuck down,” Robbie whispered back, darting a look through the crack in the wall. There were five lamps in the big room, spaced out in a rough circle. Shadows pooled between them, the lights casting a yellow pall over the intricate carvings that covered the walls, extending to the domed ceiling fifteen feet overhead. The lieutenant had a laptop propped on the big rock in the middle of the room, Pruitt looking over Barr’s shoulder at whatever was on the screen.
“Didn’t you hear what they were saying?” Gaines asked. “It’s some kind of prophecy about the end of the world. If the captain says whatever the words are, something’s going to happen.”
“Don’t even start.”
Gaines pointed up the tunnel. “The experts are fucking running, man.”
The four had already made it most of the way up the slope, the lights dwindling quickly. Seeing the dimly lit figures recede made Robbie feel really shitty, like he was on a sinking ship watching the last lifeboat sail away. Like he’d cut the line himself.
Pussy. You’re scared because of some woo-woo college professors and fucking Gaines?
“Robbie!” Lieutenant Barr called from inside the chamber, his voice echoing, sounds overlapping. “Bring one of those lanterns in here!”
Robbie grabbed one of the lamps, shaking his head firmly at Gaines, who looked poised to bolt. He mouthed the word no and then turned sideways and sidled into the chamber.
The captain looked up and pointed to the south side of the room. “Put it over there, about five feet from the wall. In front of that big divot.”
“Yes, sir.” Robbie hurried to comply, trying not to look at any of the drawings Gaines had talked about and failing totally. They weren’t obvious within the long lines of glyphs and pictograms etched into the reddish tan stone, but they were there, lea
ning in at the corners, reaching up through cracks in the steep walls. No two were alike, but none of them made sense—long shapes that were more negative space than actual lines, the bodies defined by limbs that curled like tentacles or ended in hooks. Jagged teeth depicted mouths too big for narrow bodies. Holes had been gouged that might have been eyes, blank and misshapen. The creatures were mostly fluid, like octopi or amoebas, but there were several with insectile legs sticking off. In short, they were disturbing AF.
Robbie put the lamp on the floor in front of the divot—a roughly chiseled depression as big as a backyard pool, surrounded by extending rings of etched symbols. Who the fuck had carved that shit out? What kind of lunatics had carried ladders a mile into a black tunnel to decorate a room? Did they even have ladders back then?
He turned to the captain, who nodded. “Good. No one else comes in. You boys keep us locked up tight. This won’t take long, then you can walk out with us.”
“Yes, sir,” Robbie said, and hurried back to the crack, glancing sidelong at the room’s single feature, a rectangular rock about four feet high, three wide, and slanted at the top. Symbols were etched all over it, dots and lines and curves like waves. The captain looked like he was getting ready to make a speech to the big divot, Barr’s laptop open on the stone. The lieu was messing with his phone close by, holding it up as if to film.
Robbie squeezed back through the crack, stepping back into the tunnel just in time to see the tiny lights far ahead disappear west.
Gaines leaned in, talking fast. “We should get out of here, man, I’ve seen this fucking movie and it doesn’t turn out good for anybody. Let’s just go. We can catch up to the guys and—”
“And what?” Robbie whispered. “Go tell Sarge we got scared? Captain says no one else gets in and we’re on watch, this is our job. We’re going to stand here and do our fucking jobs.”
“But what if it’s true, what if—”
Hellhole Page 20
