A/N: We head into the heart of darkness, er, of the third arc.
Burying Dirt
Chapter Twenty-Seven: Ashes to Ashes?
Down.
Sarah led them down.
Chuck behind her, Ellie, Devon, Carina last.
The subterranean dark repelled the sunlight. Repellent.
Descending the dusty stairs, Sarah shined her gun light around as she neared the bottom, a long descent. Down. Down into a darkness mobile, swirling and eddying around her, self-propellent ink.
Some antechamber. Floor, walls deep-scarred by a chemical fire, long ago. Odor of it almost gone, a lingering trace, hellish, olfactory remains of a foul visitation.
The others reached bottom.
Lights slicing the near-palpable darkness: flashlights, the other gun light.
No one spoke. Charred remnants of a desk, some piece of furniture. A slagged computer, melted plastic mound. On the ground, ash and bits of paper.
Ellie pointed her flashlight. Chuck bent down and stirred the ash around. The bits of paper. Hands blackened.
Peered at the paper, shook his head. Whispered. "A logbook of some kind. Just the edges of a few pages left. Nothing on them." Stood up.
It was silent there. Down there. Chuck's whisper a shout.
Sarah moved toward a badly scarred door, only exit but the stairs. Neared it, saw that there was a crack. Barely open. Tried to wedge her fingers in, but the crack, too small.
"Devon, bring the pick here, please," her voice echoed in the room: Sarah cringed.
Devon worked the pick into the opening. Jerked on the handle, massive effort. Door moved an inch or two. Metal on metal. Screech.
Ellie handed put her flashlight down, beam on Devon. Joined him in the spotlight. Both jerked, another few inches with a screeching accompaniment.
Screech.
Metallic scream, as if a delayed reaction to chemical burns.
Chuck stepped into the beam. All three jerked at once. Screech. Open, enough for a person to pass through, pass over.
Threshold of Omaha.
Devon panting, hands on his knees. Ellie rubbing his lower back. Chuck, hand working his wounded shoulder. Sarah reached out and stroked it softly.
His hand on hers for a moment.
"Let's go," Sarah said.
Led them into the next room. Beams of light.
Intakes of breath.
The room was intact. Computer screens mounted on walls. Computers. Desks and chairs. Everything neat. Orderly. Ready.
A console. Chuck walked to it, following Sarah's gun light. She followed. Chuck studied the dials, buttons. Reached out and pushed one button.
A whirring sound. Distant but distinctly audible. A flicker of light, flicker short, flicker long, flicker again.
There was light. Computer screens blinked on, displaying the CIA seal.
Everyone blinked, blinked, eyes slow to adjust. Lights physically painful, minor ice-cream headache. Spots, seeing.
Carina. "What'd you do, Chuck?"
"I turned the place on," he said, shrugged.
Carina laughed, one giggle. "Wow, Sarah, does he do that to your button too?"
Chuck went on, ignored Carina's comment, Sarah's visible blush, Devon's low chuckle.
"That sound. A generator. I turned..it on. It must be down here somewhere, underground. Still functional."
"I don't get it," Ellie, craning her head around.
One door out of the room, open, dark, leading deeper into the facility. "Why is that first room...burnt...toast...and this room pristine?"
Chuck, fiddling with a computer, cautiously. Stopped. Looked at Sarah. "Do you know, Sarah?"
"I'm not sure, but that stuff, the chemical used in the other room, it is supposed to spread, eat away at anything flammable. Burns at tremendous heat. The door kept it from working its way in."
"Why would they have closed the door?" Chuck looked back at the pried-open door.
"The people who burned it wouldn't have closed it. Someone else must have, probably shortly before the fire started."
"But that would mean," Ellie broke in, "that someone was still down here to close the door. The burners must not have known."
"Or cared." Carina.
Chuck glanced around. "I think they would have cared. Not about the person, maybe, but about the possibility that all this was preserved."
He returned to the computer. "But I think these were wiped. Nothing on here but the Company screen-saver and the standard OS. Memory's empty." His fingers blurred, he bent down, worked for a moment. "Yeah, wiped, seriously wiped. Complete. No traces of anything."
"So, there's nothing down here?" Devon looked at Chuck, Sarah.
"Not right here. But we need to check the whole place."
Down. Lights flickered, stabilized.
ooOoo
They went down. Down. New stairs leading from the second room. Dullish glow of recessed lights. Flashlights off.
"Didn't expect this place to go so far. How was it made?" Carina, from behind.
"I suspect it was a mining operation initially, shafts. An attempt to get at coal. The CIA converted it into...this." Chuck explained. Did not turn around.
Stairs ended.
Long hallway, dotted with recessed lights in the ceiling. Gloomy. Doors along each side, all open. Heavy. Wire-mesh glass window, small, in each door. Slot in each three-quarters of the way down. The rooms, half-jail cell, half-hospital room. Bed, toilet. Each room empty in turn.
Hallway ended, another door. Shut but unlocked.
As Sarah opened it. Lights flickered, stabilized.
Through the door, a long, rectangular room. The lab.
Door on the far end. One in the opposite wall.
Stood and looked. Like a movie set. Long heavy-duty lab tables, black tops. Test tubes, racks. Arcane devices, machines. Several chairs, padded, with restraints. Evil-looking deviations from barbershop chairs. More computers, CIA seal glowing, staring eyes in the gloomy recessed lighting.
Chuck shook his head as he looked at the nearest chair. "If Floyd the Barber worshipped Satan…"
"What, Chuck?" Sarah put her hand around his.
Shook his head, shuddered. "Nothing. This place grows creepy like a fungus, you know."
Sarah squeezed his hand. "I know."
"I can't imagine Dad and Mom, down here…working here."
"Try not to. You want to check these computers?"
Sigh. "Yes, I suppose." Sarah watched as he went to work. Glanced around. Devon had put the shovel and pick down. He and Ellie, walking together, picking up test tubes, vials. Reading labels. Examing devices, machines. Whispering to each other.
Carina spoke into her walkie-talkie. "Carina to Martin…" Buzz, crackle.
"Morgan to Carina…" Buzz. Voice broke by static. "You all okay?"
"So far. Anything going on up there?"
"No. Hard to hear you."
"We've gone down deeper. Much further and these things will quit working. Carina out."
"Martin out. — I mean, Morgan out."
"Anything, Chuck?" Sarah asked.
"No, these are wiped too."
"Let's go on, then. Ellie, Devon, are you done?"
Ellie stopped whispering. "Yes, for now. I may want to stop here again on the way out, make some notes."
"Okay, we'll check the other door then too, while you do." Sarah walked to the door leading out of the lab. Opened it.
Stairs.
Down.
"Shit." Carina. Flicker, stabilize.
ooOoo
At the bottom, another unlocked door. Through it, another hallway. Shorter. One door, each side, closed. Door at the end of the hallway. Closed.
Sarah opened the first. A spartan dorm room. Bed. Two armchairs. Dresser, drawers open, begging mouths. Desk, chair, computer. Shelf above the desk. Books leaning over on it. Thick, pharmacology books, plus a couple of romance novels. Room empty, otherwise.
Chuck took down each book in turn, opening it, flipping quickly through the pages. Ellie joined in. Nothing. No name in the books, no scraps of paper.
The room was otherwise empty. Lights flickered, stabilized. Crossed the hallway.
Sarah opened the door. A similar room but larger. Larger bed. Two desks, dressers. Pictures on the walls. Look. A second look. Chuck — as a boy. Ellie — as a girl. Younger and older, several pictures. A family photograph, all four. Sarah approached it, rapt, Frost's family, heard Chuck and Ellie gasp behind her.
Stephen and Mary's room.
"Mom?" Ellie.
"Dad?" Chuck.
Silence, silence, recessed lights flickered, smiling photographs macabre in the flicker, stabilized, — but no answer.
A/N: Tune in next time for Chapter Twenty-Eight, "Crematory". — Flicker, flicker.
Thoughts?