Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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The mission had seemed bleak, however, Gareth was not a man to give up so easily. Part of the reason Bennett had sent him on this perilous mission of discovery. There was after all food to be hunted, an endless supply of water at their disposal, not to mention an entire town with which to draw hard supplies. So a camp was established, and slowly the site was further explored.
The complex was very large, and from what they could fathom it seemed to run in many directions deep under the earth. They found vent shafts a considerable distance from the main missile launch area. Warren on further prodding confessed he knew the silo was vast, but most of it was off-limits to one with his low-level security clearance.
Gareth was not amused, however, he was here and there was a task at hand, though Warren really was proving little help. The three men spent all the available daylight hours searching for some way in. They often would return to the ruins of Wentworth, however not a living soul did they spy. Harvesting many useful objects to be returned to the camp.
*****
Day three had begun as the two previous, with some roast kangaroo meat, a drink at the river, and more searching. Near midday, Dwayne had run excitedly back into camp. Black hair and white bone ornaments flew in all directions as he prattled on excitedly he had found an opening.
Gareth gathered up some tools, along with the firebrands he had crafted, one of which he lit from the coals of the dying breakfast fire. Handing the various implements to the men, they set off to investigate Dwayne's find. Indeed it was an entrance of some sort, and not just another sealed vent shaft as Gareth had feared, but a real portal into the labyrinth below.
"Good work." Gareth smiled ruggedly at the young and vital Dwayne revealing chipped teeth, Dwayne nodded and returned the triumphant look. Warren just stood nervously behind, leaning on his stick awaiting instruction.
"I don't like that." Dwayne was looking up and pointing to a very ominous sky.
"Neither do I." Gareth squinted upward, as he pressed torches into waiting hands, there would be no other way to illuminate the unknown below.
"Looks like one bad storm."
"We will be safer underground, so let's get to it. Stick together, we have no clue what's in here."
The opening looked innocuous enough. Animal droppings, loose sand, and spider webs at the entrance. A concrete, reinforced shaft cut back into a raised, rocky outcrop. From the other direction, it was almost impossible to see the well-hidden opening. This entrance was not unlike a mine shaft, and the three men inched into the narrow aperture with caution. Gareth kept getting a sinking feeling that perhaps this might just lead to another internal blast door that would be tightly sealed.
They traversed this straight passageway watching the opening behind them become no more than a tiny pinpoint of light.
"I hope we don't get lost in here." Warren muttered clearly afraid.
Though Gareth did not bite, this was in all the men's heads as a real fear. If the torches failed, or they got separated, it would be very easy to get lost and perhaps fall to one's death, or simply not be capable of finding the exit.
Finally, a door, as they came up on it in the wavering torchlight it was not a cheery sight.
"It's a blast door." Gareth said somewhat disheartened. This scenario was thus far playing out how he feared. As they drew closer to the dull gray facade of this barrier bearing the stark white stenciled words 'This way out.'
They could clearly see that the metal was pitted with heavy gauge artillery fire and that the door was no longer tight shut.
"At least its not locked." Gareth remarked to Dwayne, quite ignoring Warren. "But it looks like it will be a bitch to open. It's a slider and the tracks are filled with sand."
The two men handed their torches to Warren and began to exert all their strength to move the door. Slowly it gave way.
Cautiously Gareth peeked beyond into the next chamber. He realized he could see natural light pouring in from overhead. That cheered him, perhaps this place might be more easily navigable after all?
The room was large and square. Doors exited from all four sides. They also seemed compromised and had been fired at with heavy gauge armaments. This place had seen a very heavy military skirmish, but that was long ago. It was hard to read the signs effectively as to judge the course of events here.
From high above sand had poured slowly into the vents and it piled up in a corner of this empty room, like sand running from an hourglass never to be returned. A length of semi-rusted chain hung suspended from this vent shaft, intermittently striking a metallic chime on the confining grid in the air duct. The noise was a constant nervous aggravation to the adventurers who searched below.
It seemed the weather was becoming unusually blustery up top. The three men peered skyward, squinting into the displaced sand that was filtering down the shaft. This observation culminated in a quizzical look at one another. The abrupt weather change was disturbing indeed, after many months of sameness.
Above an enamel cowled light, housing a single dead light bulb, swayed slightly. Pipes ran about the ceilings, perhaps in the past they had ferried water or power, it was hard to say. This chamber was innocuous enough if one did not gaze too closely at the spent brass shells that littered the floor, and the occasional memento that had settled into the debris that at one time would have been carried and held precious by a living, breathing, soldier.
Gareth crossed the room to another of the doors, this one was partially open, moving easily to give up its secrets. This led to yet another darkened passage, not unlike a long mine shaft. There were the telltale sticky webs of red-backed spiders. The solid man scanned carefully for the creatures, thrusting the torch into the dark aperture to displace the colony. The last thing he wanted was to be bitten and severely debilitated, or even die from their poison bite.
There were bones scattered in this passage. Long femurs, undeniably human, though to the uninitiated sometimes they could easily be confused with those of a kangaroo. However, none of the swift marsupials would ever have reason to seek this dark and cloistered place.
Dwayne stopped to retrieve a perfect gold tooth that caught the light of his firebrand for the tiniest instant. He smiled at this prize, as he tucked it away for safekeeping, along with his other precious stones and artifacts. Further in a complete skull, the first they had sighted. Gareth stooped to peer at the specter of death. Immediately noticing the cause, a bullet entry neatly above the brow.
Warren shivered involuntarily. He had never grown indifferent to death as the others had. He feared it with all his being. The passageway burgeoning with signs of mortality was not helping him be brave. Warren was so very glad he was not here the day the violence erupted. It probably didn't happen immediately the thin man ruminated, as he pressed on after his companions, trying not to tread on the human remains underfoot. It probably occurred later, much later.
An endless succession of iron-bound doors and simple light fixtures in wire cages. The place seemed an unending labyrinth of death. It was dark here and the uneven illumination from the brands cast eerie shadows before and after them.
"Do you remember the way?" Gareth turned to question Dwayne.
The raven-haired man smiled and nodded with youthful surety. Though he was young and sometimes irresponsible Dwayne had an uncanny sense of direction and made an expert guide, one of the reasons he had been selected for this mission.
The white stenciled wording stated on the sealed door before them. "Are there two men in the Magazine." Gareth read the cryptic statement slowly out loud. The three men stared at the statement quizzically, then at one another. Finally turning in wordless acknowledgment to Warren for some kind of answer.
"I...I...I don't know. Maybe it's some kind of caution sign?" Warren was shaking his head wildly in fearful denial. His security clearance had never brought him down here, he had no inkling what the statement meant.
Gareth and Dwayne tried to budge the door and it looked as though they had not been the first to try and gain access to this area. The small viewing portal had been smashed out with a rifle butt, leaving no more than a rim of jagged glass about its periphery like the teeth of a shark.
Dwayne who was both lithe and agile tentatively felt his way for some kind of leverage or admission to the other side. After numerous tries and some minor cuts, it was decided this entrance was off-limits to them, and perhaps they would have to backtrack and find another means of entry.
Another door was soon located leading to yet more tunnels. Somehow Dwayne remembered the way long after the other two men would have become hopelessly confounded. Gareth was glad the young man was with him though he would never admit it openly. The bones that littered the hallways had diminished completely in this sector, and so had the bullet holes, and all other signs of fighting. This section of the installation looked very clean, even the elements for the most part seemed to not have entered here.
Through another door, this one was shut but not locked. "I know this place!" Warren exclaimed with loud enthusiasm, voice echoing in the vaulted space. Gareth and Dwayne stared at the disheveled man, then about the cavernous chamber. Its size was very impressive even if it stood vastly empty. This too was illuminated quite readily by the natural light streaming in from above.
"This is the missile launch area, see, overhead." Warren pointed a bony finger to the gantry cranes. "They used those to move the payloads, warheads."
The men cast their eyes upward and then about the colossal underground chamber. "If I remember correctly the offices and the control rooms are just over there." Warren again pointed to the far wall.
Finally, Warren Mc Callister had satisfied his tormentors. Perhaps now things would go easier for him? He had lived up to their expectations after all. All that remained was to return to Lucy and live as best he may the remainder of his days with her in love. Perhaps only a slave, but better that than to be alone, and wander without hope or purpose.
Gareth was scanning the huge space for anything of interest. Something worthy he could return to his leader. This area would have been the heart of operations once, that much was apparent. However, the chamber was empty. No vehicles, no machinery, and certainly no trace of a warhead.
He sighed as he cast about him, it was hard not to feel somewhat defeated. He must have something of value to return with, something to bring hope. Dwayne sat on his haunches, gazing about like a wild animal, eyes dark slits appraising his environment carefully. He belonged in this new world in a way neither Gareth nor Warren did not. Old memories were sometimes a burden to initiate change, this new world was now truly for the young.
Warren made his way to the familiarity of his past. It drew him almost in a trance-like manner. The neat row of offices stood, gray doors thrown open, rolling office chairs scattered and tipped backward on the floors, reams of papers disheveled poured from filing cabinets and the tops of desks. Laptops and computers stood broken, black screened, and idle. In an environment that once hummed with industriousness, voices, phone calls, and computer noise, the silence seemed obscene.
This was his workstation. Warren knew that by the presence of the little silvered Christmas tree that still held court amongst the devastation that was his workspace. The only token of his individuality he had allowed himself here, was an impromptu gift from his girlfriend at the time, Judy. He wondered idly where she was, had she survived? He took up the little memento in his hand. It was spikier than he remembered. One of the little silvered balls fell off and rolled some distance away across the floor to be arrested by some crumpled paper.
The item did no more than make him poignantly sad. Warren set it down and rested his hands on the edge of the desk, trying to remember, a different more ordered time. A time of goals, comforts, and hope. Like many, he had never really believed a war would come. It was all just posturing by governments surely, the toothless tiger? How naive he had been.
His small workspace was not as he remembered it. Orderly and clean. It had been ransacked. Drawers and cabinets stood agape spewing their contents to the polished gray linoleum floor. Devices such as staplers, a bulk packet of paperclips, pens, and other office paraphernalia are scattered willy-nilly. At least there appeared to be no signs of death here. Perhaps vandals had just come later, or maybe the enemy sought some form of information? He would never know.
He ran his thin dirty nailed fingers over the long disused keyboard of his laptop, he vividly remembered his days here. Of long audits and endless cups of sticky, over-sugared coffee, trying to stay awake to ensure the work was completed on time. Hardly an exciting life, however, it was his.
"Nothing of use here." Gareth's blunt words and harsh prod to his shoulder tore Warren from his memories. He did not enjoy leaving so abruptly. He confessed he wished to stay, dull his life may have been, however, it was far more comfortable.
Some men are not suited to adventure, violence, and hardship, and Warren had proudly proclaimed himself one of them even as a gangly teenager. He sighed as he turned away from the familiarity of a lost life. To follow the others out into the empty space beyond.
*****
Jormugar, searched for two days for his absent friend. He was even by his own admission very far north. Possibly too far to acquire any new stock for his ever avaricious employer Master Jacques. However, the recent disappearance of his nameless friend reinforced that perhaps he was not alone here.
The young hunter scanned the ruins with a trained eye that missed nothing, his profession was that of a bounty hunter after all. It did not take the young man long to reconcile indeed he was not alone. Disturbed sand in the lee of a building, upturned tin revealing an unexposed newness that caught the light. A footprint almost lost in the sand, horse tracks in the harder clay. Others were here and recently.
He soon located the charred fire-pit, and the young hunter's usually hard heart froze at the sight of a canine skull, burned and charred, however, the teeth were strong and he knew it to be that of his companion and friend. Jormugar pulled his rangy bay horse through the debris and scouted further north after setting the remains of his companion to satisfactory rest by the river bank.
Why had they eaten his dog? There were plenty of herbivores here if one knew where to look, why? He contemplated. They must be indiscriminate lowlife, or desperadoes who did not know what they were doing.
Jormugar's pride also burned at being caught unawares, he was the one who was used to watching others about him unseen. He would not be surprised again.
Jormugar traced the intruders to the silo site. It had been comparatively easy once he had located the initial camp. He spent some hours surveying the camp from a distance, high up camouflaged by rocky scree. The hunter was more tentative to advance now he was missing his dog. The faithful creature had warned him many times of impending danger before he saw it, so he waited to be doubly sure there was no one about. However, the only movement that caught his eye was the three horses that grazed the river plain down below.
The sky had turned ominous and the wind had changed direction, oddly coming from the southwest, rare here. It disturbed the wild young man this abrupt change of weather, just as it did the horses grazing beyond. Their heads constantly shooting up to scan the world about them, withers quivering wondering if they should run.
Jormugar was as surely a creature of the wild as they were. In tune with the environment around him, linked to it in many ways. He carefully walked about the campsite, careful not to leave traces of his passing, using the scattered rocks as stepping stones to cover his tracks, though the stiff wind would likely obliterate any traces of his being here. The fire had gone cold, just the tiniest puff of smoke as the wind whipped the ash up and into his face scattering it into his long chocolate hair, that hung in lush ringlets below his shoulders.
The travelers had nothing he coveted. Nothing material anyway. In his profession he had enough gold to buy pretty much anything he desired, and yet he required little. He rarely stayed or ventured into a civilization, unless he must. His simple needs could mostly be procured from the wild. It was a good way to be.
The horses which may have had some value were in rather poor condition, and Jormugar wondered if they would even make the passage south before expiring. There were no weapons, ammunition, or even decent rations lying about.
Jormugar was still angered at the demise of his hound. However, he would not let himself be careless in his anger. On further inspection he trailed the tracks of what he presumed were three men, one appeared much lighter and smaller than the others and used a stick to walk. The telltale signs announced boldly that this individual was badly crippled and dragged a leg. Worthless meat, Jormugar thought, however, the other tracks promised specimens far more promising.
The trio had gone into the dark tunnel recently, perhaps two hours before? The bounty hunter was careful not to stand before the aperture and by chance signal this prey of his presence here. He listened but could hear nothing to denote there was anyone about.
He decided he would simply retreat a ways. Sit quietly and observe the entrance. It was most likely the party would return by the way they came. He would sight this quarry for himself, and judge if revenge for his fallen companion was warranted, or if he should call his counterparts to capture and enslave these men.
Jormugar tied his horse away behind the rise and sat down on his vigil. Alternating his dark lashed and keen eye toward the entrance and back towards the roiling troublesome clouds.
