Shadowmark (The Shadowmark Trilogy Book 1) (6 page)

He aimed the camera at it. “Alien Research Center for Hostile Invasion of Earth. ARCHIE. At least I’ve found the right place. You’ll notice the sign doesn’t explain what’s down each corridor. You know what that is? A bureaucratic lack of imagination.”

Lincoln turned left, down Corridor A. Dry, dark walls of chiseled stone arched twenty feet overhead, gleaming in the beam of Lincoln’s flashlight. He walked slowly, scanning every inch of the corridor. Within a few yards, he had reached the top of a steeply descending metal staircase. He shone his light down in an effort to see the bottom, but darkness quickly swallowed it. The walls narrowed around the stair. Lincoln licked his dry lips. Why hadn’t he thought to bring water with him?

“And this part I really don’t like. I didn’t sign up for this. You hear me, Cummings, wherever you are?”

His shoe rang softly on the first step. He turned to look behind him, shining the light back down the corridor.
Quit stalling
, he told himself. He returned the light to the darkness below and proceeded down the stairs. For several minutes he heard nothing but the clanging of his rubber soles on the metal steps and saw nothing but smooth stone walls closing in on him.
 

Finally the stairs ended in a narrow space that would barely accommodate two people side by side. A rusty metal door with no handle loomed directly opposite the last stair. The doorframe completely blocked the passage, joined to the stone by large bolts.
 

“Why did they seal the corridor? See?” He ran the camera around the doorframe. “I am more than a little intrigued.” Lincoln banged the door a few times with the butt of his flashlight and felt around for a latch or release lever. He shone the light around the walls, looking for a keypad or some kind of switch, but found nothing.
 

Dreading the steep climb ahead of him but eager for the larger tunnel above, Lincoln turned around and ascended the stairs. By the time he reached the top, his heavy breathing was bouncing off the close tunnel walls. Corridor B waited, so he trudged along past the sign without resting. Corridor B was smooth with walls of the same arching dark stone. It opened abruptly into nothing.
 

“Wow,” he said softly. “The air is cooler and fresher in here than in the corridors, and significantly drier than the moldy concrete passageway.”
 

The flashlight did little to illuminate the vast space, and Lincoln turned on the spot carefully, checking the ground at his feet for a sudden drop-off. Satisfied he wouldn’t fall into an abyss, he trained his light on the wall of the chamber. Beautifully smooth and curving away, the wall reached straight up into the mountain. He tipped the flashlight and camera up to the ceiling but couldn’t see anything in the weak light.

Lincoln walked to his right and looked at the stone wall. “We definitely need better equipment than a miniature flashlight,” he whispered. “Also, this wall is slightly curved. Don’t think you can see it on camera. Also don’t know why I’m whispering.

“This room must be huge. My light doesn’t reach the other side or the ceiling.”

He followed the wall, keeping it at arm’s distance. “Another breath of fresh air. I wonder where it’s coming from. Note to self—learn more about natural caves. Although this can’t be a natural cavern, it’s too intentional.” Lincoln ran his fingers along the wall. “The wall is completely dry, too. Is that normal underground? And if a breeze can get in, why can’t water?”

He walked a few more paces and stopped. “Going to try a little experiment.” Keeping the wall on his right, he turned off the flashlight and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He might as well have been blind as he groped his way along the wall a few more paces, waiting for the breeze on his face again.

A sound echoed to his left. Lincoln paused, listening. “I just heard something,” he said, still whispering. “There it is again. Scurrying, like a rat. Or a bat? Guess I should have thought about the local wildlife. What lives this deep underground?” Racking his brain for answers, Lincoln hesitated to turn on the light, knowing he would be seen long before he saw anything himself. He shuffled on, looking for any glimmer of light.

“There. More air.” A breeze caressed his face, cooling his sweaty forehead. “Brrr. It’s suddenly much colder. I bet the temperature just dropped twenty degrees.” Lincoln shivered. The earth rumbled beneath his feet, sending an unsettling vibration through his chest. “Don’t know if the camera picked that up or not, but the ground just shook, like a small earthquake.”
 

Lincoln mopped his brow with his sleeve. As he did, the ground shook again. This time he grabbed the wall to keep from falling, dropping both the flashlight and the phone. As he fumbled in the dark to find them, the sound of running water echoed from somewhere far away. He found the flashlight at his feet and turned it on, then found his phone, undamaged. His hand shook as he swept the light around the vast room. Everything looked the same. The dimly illuminated wall to his right was smooth and unbroken. Everywhere else was darkness.
 

“Don’t know if the camera picked that up, but it was definitely a tremor.”

Lincoln walked all the way around what turned out to be a gaping circular room. Arriving at an opening, he looked down and saw his own boot print in the dust, confirming it was the entrance to Corridor B.
 

“No doors but this one. No panels, no keypads, nothing. And I hear water, but I didn’t see any or find the source of the breeze. So far this room has offered no explanation for its existence.” Lincoln sighed and shone the light around one more time. He could still hear the distant trickle of water. The earth rumbled again, less violently. The sound of running water ceased, and everything fell completely silent once more. Annoyed, Lincoln turned off the camera, left the chamber, and returned to the sign to stare at it, wishing for answers.
 

He turned and climbed back into the cinderblock tunnel toward the mine entrance. Water splashed softly behind him. Lincoln paused to concentrate on the silence. The noise had been so faint, he really couldn’t be sure he’d heard anything. Still, he pivoted on his heel, holding the flashlight high. Nothing.

“Hello?” he called into the darkness. “Anybody there?” Water dripped from the ceiling onto the floor, the rippling puddle reflecting his flashlight. The shadows didn’t move. Lincoln had not expected a reply, but the silence comforted him nonetheless. “Hello?” Shaking his head, he turned and walked to the entrance.

Mina coughed and opened her eyes. She looked up at the sky, blinking into the sunlight. The Boeing had come to rest at a ninety-degree angle. She hung cinched at her waist by her seatbelt. When she coughed, the seatbelt dug deeper into her abdomen, sending dull pain throughout her body. Her eyes focused on the two now-empty seats next to hers, their blue seatbelts swinging gently in the air toward the middle row.
 

“Matt,” Mina whispered. But Matt wasn’t there.
 

Directly below the seatbelts, a woman dangled lifelessly from the row of seats, her arm caught between them, her feet pointing toward the far side of the cabin. She swung, too, like the seatbelts. Mina didn’t want to know if the woman was the mother from the family who had been sitting across from her on the flight over. She couldn’t see the children. She didn’t want to see the children.
 

Below the woman’s feet, an orange glow crept along the other side of the plane, near the ground. Mina couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. Hot air. Smoke drifted through the cabin. Mina waved it away. It mocked her, sliding through her fingers into her eyes and mouth. The force of her cough sent more dull pain through her head, and Mina closed her eyes, wishing for nothing but sleep.

She groped for the seatbelt release and pulled, sending herself tumbling headfirst into the middle section of seats. She crashed into the aisle seat and groaned at the new pain in her side. The plane shuddered and tilted down. Mina gripped the armrest. Her fingers slipped, and she bounced against the aisle as the plane settled upright with a violent thud. More pain.

Mina stared upward into the smoke. The plane jolted again. An overhead bin opened, spewing suitcases and bags around the cabin. Mina covered her head as a heavy bag landed on top of her. She coughed again and rubbed her eyes against the grit scratching them like sandpaper.
Get out.
 

The funnel of smoke grew thicker as waves of heat radiated through the cabin. Screams drifted through the smoke, over the roar of the fire. She couldn’t stop coughing now. Her head swam, and she tried to cover her nose and mouth with her coat. A hand caught her arm in a strong grip. She turned toward it. A man coughed in the aisle seat from the row behind Mina. Still buckled in, his body leaned into the aisle. Blood covered his face. Mina found his seatbelt and unclasped it, then tugged him down into the aisle out of the densest smoke. His body fell onto hers, and she struggled to untangle herself. His dead weight wouldn’t budge.

The emergency exit had to be close by. She had been sitting two rows behind it. Fire raged to her right. The roar intensified, overpowering everything else, drowning out even the screams. Mina looked for a break in the seats to her left. The exit would be there somewhere.
 

She turned and shook the man’s shoulder. He coughed violently and pulled himself off of her, jamming his body against the seats so she could slide out from under him. Then he slumped down again. Mina turned back to resume her search, pulling herself along the aisle. A strip reflected the firelight. Mina stared at it. Did it mark the exit? She couldn’t reach it. Her body was too sluggish. Weak.

Before summoning the strength to pull herself to it, Mina raised up halfway and looked back at the man. “Hey,” she called. “HEY! Wake up!” The intense heat overcame her, and she choked, ribs almost cracking with the force of her cough. She laid her head on the floor.
No, the exit is right there. I shouldn’t stop.
Her eyelids sagged, seeking relief from the fumes. But her eyes still burned. And her lungs.
 

Heat scorched her body as the inferno overtook the cabin. Seats moved. Mina sensed them sinking below her. Probably the plane was breaking up. The sound of metal twisting onto more metal mixed with the roar of the fire. A great rush of air whirled around her, billowing smoke through the cabin and around Mina. Her hair whipped into her face. Then the roar of the fire stopped as her hearing went dull. Mina couldn’t summon the energy to open her eyes again.

Trees grew in a straight line bordering the old railroad. The rails had long since been removed, leaving an easy path through the woods near the mine. While Lincoln had been in the tunnels, a temporary camp was constructed away from the service road under the cover of the trees at the mountain’s base. The afternoon sun shone weakly in a pale sky. The valley would be dark soon.
 

Lincoln sighed. He’d been disappointed to learn they would be camping. Camping was alright, but all Lincoln wanted now was a hot shower and a soft bed. Instead, he would be sleeping in a sleeping bag inside a tiny bivouac. Probably his feet would hang out the end of it.
 

Corporal Schmidt hurried toward Lincoln. The soldier’s fresh, boyish face contrasted sharply with the large gun at his hip. He’d dogged Lincoln ever since they had left APV, asking questions as soon as Lincoln woke in the dark Humvee. Lincoln shouldn’t be annoyed, but he was. He was tired, too. Ready to find his tent and set it up.

“Ah, Smith,” said Lincoln.

“Schmidt, sir.”

“Schmidt. Tell my team Colonel’s ordered blackout tonight. No campfires, flashlights, cigs, nothing after twilight.”

“Yes, sir. He’s waiting for you.”

Lincoln sighed. He was in no mood to deal with Nash.
 

“He was pissed when you went down there without him.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a bit.” Lincoln checked his phone, hoping for a signal. It was dead. Great. A man swore loudly from somewhere in the green sea of tents. Nash. Why did the colonel irritate him? He barely knew the guy.

“Surrey!” Nash called.
 

Lincoln resignedly clipped his phone back to his belt.

“Surrey!” said Nash when Lincoln arrived at his tent. He held a stack of papers in one hand. “You can’t follow one simple order. I told you to wait while I assembled a team!”

“I just went to check it out.”

“You could have run into trouble.”

Lincoln shrugged. “But I didn’t. Besides, you could have had my designated shadow follow me in.”

“By the time Schmidt realized you were gone, we couldn’t. That place is a labyrinth. But it’s lucky you took the only map, isn’t it?” Nash tossed down the papers.

“Obviously, I needed it, or you wouldn’t have given it to me,” said Lincoln. “Anyway, it was a bust. The only open room was too big to see into with just a flashlight. Cummings didn’t tell you anything about it? What are we looking for, exactly?”

“We’re awaiting further orders. What was so important you risked getting trapped down there to go see?”

Lincoln shrugged, thinking of the video in his pocket.

“From now on, you do as I say. This is
my
op.” Nash walked over to a small table and picked up a black semiautomatic in a plain holster. “Do you know how to use one of these?”

“I do. Is it necessary I have one?”
 

“It’s not standard procedure, but considering the circumstances, I’d feel better if your team was armed.”

“Expecting trouble?”
 

“Trouble usually finds you when you’re not expecting it.” He trained his steely eyes on Lincoln. “We should have heard from them by now.”