Deep Down (Sam Stone Book 1) (11 page)

“That could very well be the case,” Gilbert said.  “Although I’m not happy to know that I’m losing my mind, I am very relieved to know that the bats are not real.  They’re nothing pretty to look at.”

Dennis snatched the paper from Logan’s hand, glaring, as if Logan had committed some heinous offence in taking the paper from the printer without first asking permission.

Logan ignored the man’s attitude.  In fact, he was trying his best to ignore his superior all together, and most especially, the man’s current instructions.

As Dennis pored over Dr. Fasstine’s most recent lab tests, the ones that had just been printed, his eyebrows beetled down into a frown. 

“How can this be right?” he muttered.

Logan remained silent, standing stiffly at his side.  He knew that Dennis was not asking him for the answer to his question, but only speaking his frustration at the perplexing results aloud.  Dennis hadn’t allowed Logan to have any input in the proceedings since Logan had first voiced his formal protest to the man’s intent. 

Logan still could not believe that Dennis had insisted on waiting to hear the specialist’s expert opinion of the bacteria before bringing the infected people to the surface, even if this meant allowing the oxygen in the museum and surrounding tunnels to become completely depleted before that opinion could be heard.

“No, this can’t be right,” Dennis said, now shaking the paper under Logan’s nose.  “There’s nothing that could have caused the bacteria to mutate so quickly.  Nothing.”

Logan couldn’t resist a comment, though he knew one was not wanted. 

“That we know of, Sir.  Nothing that we currently know of.”

Dennis glared at him, and Logan reminded himself that he needed to keep his mouth shut if he wanted to keep his job, which, considering Dennis’s behavior, and the way things might play out, he wasn’t sure that he did.

“Get that damn specialist in here before he suits up and goes down into the museum.  I want an explanation for this,” Dennis growled, shaking the paper again and almost jabbing Logan in the nose with it in the process.

Logan nodded, then turned stiffly and stalked out of Dennis’s “command center” as the man called it.  The thing was a truly remarkable vehicle.  Even though Logan was not impressed with Dennis’s methods, he
was
unwillingly impressed with the command center.  Originally a sleek tour bus, the thing had been completely gutted and then, as per Dennis’s orders, retrofitted with every amenity, as well as every technological and communications advancement known to man.   The vehicle had everything, including a full bar, which Logan highly doubted anyone needed while they were in charge of a CDC matter.  Yet no one had questioned Dennis when he’d requested that the bar be installed in his new mobile command center. 

Logan had found, in the few years that he’d been working with the man, that this sort of behavior was often the case.  No one questioned Dennis Malnon’s orders. No one, that is, except Logan.   

Outside the command center vehicle, the museum’s small parking lot was a mass of controlled chaos.  CDC personnel were everywhere, although they made a concerted effort to hide exactly which organization they worked for.   CDC emblems on vehicles had been covered for this occasion, and the employees acted for all the world as if they were just assembling the makings for a rowdy tailgate party, scurrying from vehicle to vehicle.   Of course, Logan knew differently.  He could practically see Dennis’s instructions behind the covert actions of the crew outside the command center, certain that the man had insisted on secrecy.  If he
was
planning to allow over one hundred people to die in a ‘mining accident’, then, of course it would be mandatory that no one took notice of the CDC’s presence in Hawkington, Kansas.

The most horrible part of Dennis’s plan was that it would probably work perfectly.  The ‘accident’ would not be questioned, and the CDC would seem to have had no participation in the events at all, having easily kept their presence in Hawkington under the radar. 

From what Logan had seen, Hawkington was about as far from a hub of activity as you could get, especially near the Strata’s location.  In fact, few cars rarely drove anywhere near the entrance to the Strata museum’s small parking lot.  In explanation for this behavior, he’d been told that the museum had been closed for a special event that weekend, open only to a select few.  Poor, unlucky individuals that they were.

This lack of traffic and attention would only facilitate Dennis’s plans to keep the CDC out of the limelight should the visitors and staff of the museum all die before they received help.

But, what Logan couldn’t figure out was why. 
Why
was Dennis so willing to sacrifice those lives?  It wasn’t as if the contagion below in the museum represented a threat level previously unseen by the CDC before. The CDC had seen much, much worse.  Ebola, for instance.

And, Logan knew that the CDC had some of the world’s best containment units and quarantine protocols.  The infected people below could easily be safely quarantined, making them no real threat to the public.

Knowing these facts as he did, Logan could not make sense of any of it.

He easily located Dr. Shean, the CDC’s specialist and foremost expert on infectious bacteria.  The man had flown in from Hawaii, where he’d been on holiday with his family.   Logan was sure that the wintry Kansas weather was a shock to the man’s system after spending the last week in a tropical paradise. 

Dr. Shean turned out to be exactly the type of person that Logan had expected, and he was greatly disappointed by this fact.  He’d expected the man to be pompous and full of himself, much like Dennis Malnon was, high on his own expertise and authority.  And the man was exactly that, plus arrogant to the extreme. Before their first meeting, Logan had held out a slim hope that he might find an ally in Dr. Shean.  An ally to work with to save those hundred or so people who were currently suffering 640 feet below their feet. But it had only taken a few minutes of speaking with the man to realize that Dr. Shean was not going to be an ally.  In fact, Logan had quickly found out that Dr. Shean had been firmly in favor of Dennis’s decision to wait for his arrival, whether or not it caused the victims so far below their feet to suffocate.

“Dr. Shean, Dennis would like for you to stop by the command center before you suit up. He would like an explanation of the preliminary results,” Logan told the man.

As expected, Dr. Shean frowned.  “The results are self explanatory and I don’t have time to coddle the man if I’m going to be of any use at all to the CDC in this matter.  It is obvious from Dr. Fasstine’s findings that a toxic substance of unknown origin, most likely in a gaseous form, has caused this previously benign bacteria to mutate into something dangerous and also to replicate exceedingly quickly.”

Dr. Shaw sighed irritably and took the white CBRN suit that his assistant was now offering him. The suit, which protected the wearer from chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear threats, was a bit of overkill, Logan knew, since he strongly suspected there would be no radiological or nuclear hazards down in the mines, but the CBRN suits were the newest thing in the CDC’s arsenal of protective gear, and, as such, they were what the doctor was required to wear.   Logan was almost happy to see that Dr. Shean completely ignored Malnon’s request, and began the arduous process of donning the suit right away.

“Furthermore, the results plainly list the symptoms that this mutated bacteria is now causing in its hosts, which has progressed from such paltry symptoms such as pinpoint pupils in some to more serious signs of full blown psychosis in others.  Still others are exhibiting the breakdown of all blood vessels within the body and/or suffocation due to forced paralysis of the bronchi in the lungs.  Dennis needs only to read the results to understand this.  As I said, I don’t have time to dumb it down for him. Surely he knows that in cases such as these, which include a mutation, the window for successful treatment is often very limited.  It may already be too late to help them at all. Tell Dennis I’m going down in the lift as soon as I’ve donned my suit, and that if he’d like to talk, he can suit up and join me.”

Logan didn’t appreciate the man’s manner, but he was actually looking forward to telling Dennis what the doctor had said.  He turned to go, a small grin on his face, but the doctor’s next words stopped him cold.

“And, Logan, tell him that I’ll need him to pick seven or eight people from the security team and have them suit up in NBC suits and come down with me, preferably armed.  Two of the subjects’ blood results show an intriguing ‘immunity’ to the mutated strain.  I’ve been informed that these two have left the quarantine area and ventured off into the mine.  I’ll need a few people to round them up and bring them to Dr. Fasstine’s mobile lab down there for further testing. And, I’m guessing that they won’t be wanting to come willingly.”

Logan’s jaw clenched at the certain knowledge that Dr. Shean would take advantage of the isolated nature of the quarantine situation to use the two subjects like human lab rats.   And, with an armed eight-person security team enforcing the doctor’s orders, the two subjects would have no choice but to comply. With effort, Logan kept silent and headed toward the command center to relay Dr. Shean’s instructions to Dennis. 

He deeply regretted the downward spiral of the evolving situation and the ramifications of what it would mean to the group of the people trapped so far underground below his feet.

Dennis had never been a compassionate person, but to Logan’s knowledge, he’d never gone this far out of line.  Logan wasn’t certain what to make of it, but whatever was going on, it did not bode well for the people stranded underground.

The tram’s wheels kicked up a steady torrent of salt-laden dust as it barreled down the dark tunnel.  The vehicle’s small headlights did little to dispel the thick darkness. 

Jenny had always had a good imagination, and now she could imagine all sorts of nasty and horrifying creatures that might reside in the pitch-black tunnels, lying in wait just out of reach of the tram’s lights.   It wasn’t hard to imagine Gilbert’s hallucinated dog-sized bats as being real, and waiting just out of sight to leap upon them from out of the blackness and rip the flesh from their bones.

Sighing, Jenny tried to put a damper on her vivid writer’s imagination.   The danger that they faced was utterly real and just as frightening as anything she could imagine.  In fact, it was hard to imagine a more horrible death than what she’d seen Tammi experience.

Another bisection of the tunnel appeared ahead, and Stone turned the tram left this time.  The tram’s lights arced across the ridged surface that had been carved out of the compacted layers of salt here, and then
pitched off into the darkness ahead, quickly being eaten up by the utter absence of light. 

The area that they entered was wider than the previous tunnel that they’d been in, and Stone wisely slowed the tram’s speed as they ventured inside what could only be another cavern.

“Damn, I think this is a dead end,” Stone muttered, letting the tram creep ahead slowly into the darkness.

“Looks like it might be one of the storage areas for USF,” Jenny said, as an enormous locker-like shelving unit came into view, barely illuminated by the beam of the tram’s weak headlights.

The chemical scent that Jenny had first smelled when they’d exited the lift was stronger here. More astringent too.  No longer an undertone, the scent now hung heavily in the air, so thickly that Jenny could almost taste it.

“I think you’re right,” Alice agreed.  “Just think of some of the interesting things that might be stored here in this cavern. If we weren’t in danger of suffocating, or being chased down and shot by crazy Stan, or falling victim to the bacteria inside our bodies, it might be interesting to poke around a bit and see what’s here.  Like a treasure hunt of sorts, except we wouldn’t get to keep the booty, only look at it.”

Jenny wouldn’t admit it aloud, but she silently agreed with Alice.  Jenny had always loved exploring a new or previously hidden area, and was really fond of a good scavenger hunt as well. Looking through the storage would be quite an adventure if one had the time, and didn’t mind the suffocating darkness or dank, salty, chemical-laden air.

“I’ll find a spot to turn the tram around,” Stone said.

He had to drive the tram most of the way to the curved rear wall of the cavern before he found a space that was large enough to turn all four of the tram’s cars around without hitting the storage units, and when the tram’s lights arced across the space as he turned, Jenny noticed that several of the metal doors on one of the storage units had been torn open, and now hung ajar, bent and battered.

“Wait, look at that,” she said, pointing. 

Stone stopped the tram just before the lights no longer shone on the broken lockers.

“Looks like someone wanted something from those lockers quite badly,” he said. 

Jenny fumbled for the flashlight in her purse, then used it to pinpoint the area.  The beam of her flashlight illuminated several large cylinders that looked to be made out of aluminum. Their tops had been pried off, and a strange haze rose off of the dark ooze that had spilled out of them. The ooze bubbled, as if it were boiling, but the temperature with in the cavern remained constant, a slightly chilly sixty-seven degrees.

Emblazoned on the sides of the canisters were a series of stickers representing nothing remotely good.  Jenny caught sight of multiple skull and crossbones emblems as well as large red ovals proclaiming “DANGER” in all capital letters.

Jenny heard Debbie gasp behind her.

“That’s not good,” the woman mumbled, and Jenny could not have agreed more.

“That looks like chemical waste,” Paul said.  “What is it doing down here? The tour guide said that nothing like that was allowed to be stored in USF.”

“Hold on,” Stone growled as the tram jerked forward, eating up the distance to the tunnel that they’d just exited.

In moments the tram was once again at the crossing of the two tunnels, and Stone let the vehicle roll to a stop.

“You know what this means, don’t you?” Stone asked.

“What?” Alice asked. “That we need to be in even more of a hurry to get out of this place?”

“No, this means that the visitors are in more danger than even the CDC knows about.  Without the air circulating, those gases that were coming off of the spill are going to fill the mines quickly, if they haven’t already.”

“But the CDC knows about the bacteria and they’re not doing anything,” Cheryl said.

“True, but chemical spills aren’t the CDC’s department, now are they?  That honor belongs to the EPA,” Stone said.  “We’re going to have to go back.  Despite the risk, we’re going to have to use the phone that Tammi told us about.”

“But, if we go back, Stan will certainly shoot us.  And if he does, that horrible doctor will do nothing to help,” Alice said, a slight whine of fear raising her voice an octave.

“The call is now worth the risk.   We have no idea how long we will be in the tunnels, looking for the other lift.  And, we also have no idea what was in those canisters.   Whatever it is, we’ve all been exposed to it in addition to being exposed to the bacteria.  We could have far less time to get to the surface and get treatment than we think we do, and we had precious little time before we found the canisters.  Now, our situation is even more desperate than it seemed before,” Stone said.

“If we can make it to the phone and can manage to get a call out, I have a friend with connections.  He’ll notify the Environmental Protection Agency and put the word out on social media, and then the CDC will not be the only organization involved.  I doubt that anyone other than the CDC and a couple of top brass from this museum even know we’re down here.  If we can get the word out, and the EPA is called in, and people know what’s happening down here, that might just force the CDC to turn the air back on and send a couple of real doctors down,” Stone said.  “We could save their lives, Alice.”

“But, if we just keep going the other way, we can find the other lift and when we get to the surface we can call your friend then – with our cell phones,” Cheryl said.

“But, what if it’s too late for them by then?  What if the fumes combined with the lack of oxygen prove to be too much for their already compromised immune systems?”

“What if it does the same to us?” Debbie asked.  “Mom is right.  We should save ourselves first, then do what we can to help the others. Just like when the oxygen masks drop down in an airplane.  Always save yourself first, so you can help the person next to you.”

Jenny thought that the analogy didn’t really apply here.   There might not be time to save the others if they saved themselves.  It wasn’t exactly the same thing.

Jenny sighed.  She could see that they were not all going to agree on this.   The others were understandably scared and every bit as desperate to leave as she was, and they didn’t want to do what they knew was right for the others.  They were too focused on self-preservation, which she could understand, since she and Stone were the only two who seemed to have inactive bacteria.  The others probably felt as if time was slowly ticking off the remaining hours of their lives.

“Why don’t Stone and I go back, and you all can either wait in the tunnels for us or continue on looking for the other lift?  There’s another tram back there by the museum that we can use if you want to continue on in this one after you drop us off,” Jenny said. “It will be much easier for two people to sneak past whoever they have guarding the lift than it will be to try get all seven of us there and back safely.”

“What if we can’t find the other lift without you or Stone to help?” Gilbert asked.  “You heard the doctor. He said that the two of you are the only people who are infected that seem to be completely immune, and I’m already hallucinating and forgetting things. It’s doesn’t take a super high IQ to realize that it’s the effects of the bacteria, and not necessarily oxygen deprivation, that is causing those symptoms. Besides that, my sense of direction down here is not all that great.”

“I say that we all go back just far enough that it’s an easy walk past the museum to the lift, and then Stone and Jenny can continue on.  We’ll wait there with the tram for twenty minutes.  If Stone and Jenny aren’t back by then, then we’ll take the tram and go look for the other lift by ourselves,” Paul suggested.