Followed Within: Bolted Door (2 page)

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT NOISE!” Screamed Steve, struggling to hear even himself over the sound of the high pitched siren which filled the entire base.

Phil tried to reply, but the noise was overwhelming. “DON’T WORRY, I THINK IT’S ONLY A DRILL,LET’S JUST GET OUT TO THE COURTYARD AND SEE WHAT THEY WANT US TO DO NEXT.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“I SAID ‘GET… THE… FUCK… OUT… SIDE!’”

As the siren faded into nothing, a booming voice came over the speaker system, reverberating around both the inside and outside of the base, “THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THE STATE OF NICARAGUA HAS BEEN ATTACKED. I REPEAT, THE STATE OF NICARAGUA HAS BEEN ATTACKED. THIS IS AN ORDER FOR IMMIDIATE EVACUATION. DROP EVERYTHING AND LEAVE NOW.”

The compound went silent; a hive of activity begun.

“Forget about everything else. Grab Jenn and Emily, and make your way quietly over to that car. In a couple of minutes everyone is going to go ballistic fighting over those couple of trucks. If we get out now we can use it for just us four. All we need is some water and medicals. I’ll wait in the car,” Steve whispered under his breath to Phil.

“I’m on it, you get a move on,” he whispered back, as he scurried off to fetch the others.

Jenn was in hysterics as Phil opened the heavy steel door to her office. “You don’t think we need the hazmat suits? Everyone else is getting one.” Said Jenn, being pulled away by Phil.

Phil, commanding an air of authority he was not particularly known for, replied sternly “We’ve all heard the instructions, we just need to go. And if you don’t you will be walking with the rest of these people… Come on Emily!”

The base was not the largest the US was commanding during the war, and it was easy to see the plans groups of friends were forming. Groups huddled around trying to decide on the best plan of action. All security posts around the base had now been abandoned, and gates which once required 48hrs to pass through were now unlocked to allow free movement in and out of the compound.

Steve, Jenn, Phil and Emily were amongst the first to leave the base, at the expense of a lack of preparation. Taking one of the three small four-by-fours and not realizing the commotion it would cause amongst the remaining escapees, they tore off down the road, leaving behind in their wake a pit of confusion and resentment at the long walk ahead.

The route they took wound around the mangled, barely trodden jungle; the blindfold wound around Phil’s face held him tightly and allowed him little room for breathing. He had no idea where he was, or where he was going. He hadn’t even heard their quiet approach.

The captors wore dark green hazmat suits, and moved slowly and quietly through the forest, not wishing to alert the group to their presence. In reality, the group was too shocked to realize they had been followed, even since before the crash. Seeing the escape group’s car in the broad clearing it created, they slowly made their way down the cliff and followed at a distance, not wishing to alert those who selfishly stole a vehicle to their presence. They were unsure at the time whether their journey down the hill would be one of rescue or one of revenge for the situation they had left them in. The base they had left was now lying in a state of ruin, for shortly after the last group left, the air force destroyed all evidence of the base existence.

“What are we going to do with him?” Said the first captor, seemingly having forgotten that Phil could hear them.

“I recon we use him as bait, to teach the others a lesson.” Snarled the second captor, carrying Phil by his tied up hands.

Phil squealed through the tight leather gag at the thought of being tortured. He didn’t recognize the voices at all, but the suits they were wearing he was pretty sure were from his base. Every base had a distinct uniform color, and theirs was a shade of olive green. He still wasn’t sure which department they could have come from. He was familiar with most of the research teams. Maybe they were security guards? He wasn’t on the best of terms with some of them. Or maybe a couple of janitors? They worked during the night, so only ever saw each other.

His mind whirled as he tried to grasp the severity of the situation, and wriggled and writhed with all his might to try and loosen the belts holding his arms and legs in place. His calf caused him to contract in pain at every large step the captors took. He bit down hard on the gag, trying to keep the contents of his stomach inside him as intense waves of pain washed over him.

“Here’s the cabin. Let’s put him in here with the other one, we’ll come back for them later.” Said the first captor, this time trying slightly more to conceal his voice. Phil was confused. He hadn’t seen any form of civilisation since they had crashed off the road. He was also bewildered by the fact that there was a large descent on the way, which he hadn’t been able to see from his campout on the riverbed. He was glad that his captors were sure footed, and had grips of steel.

The small wooden cabin had a damp, musty smell which radiated through the three small rooms. Beams of light shot through the small slit windows, highlighting the dusty, bug ridden air. The splintered wooden floor onto which Phil had been thrown was rough and uncomfortable. Mud was caked over every exposed surface; thick green moss was highly prevalent throughout the room, often growing intertwined with weeds.

The captors removed the ties which held Phil in place, before leaving the almost excessively re-enforced cabin and bolting the door shut from the outside. They left his blind fold on, only allowing him to remove it once they had left and locked the heavy log door. Phil immediately noticed the large yellow signs nailed to the inside walls. ‘QUARANTINE,’ they stated. The signs seemed new, they were out of place relative to the rest of the run down shack. They had the name of his base written in the fine print on the bottom.

He wondered what he had done to deserve the treatment he had just received. Peering out of the narrow window, he noticed the two captors slowly making their way back into the forest. Yep, definitely from our base, he thought to himself as he sat back down on the dirty floor. He began to think about what had gone wrong in the last few days to lead to this. His mind wandered back to the base, the evacuation, the escape. He remembered looking back and laughing at the hand gestures his ex-work mates were making as Steve drove away with all the power and speed the little engine would deliver.

A voice snapped Phil back into reality. “Hey… Hey! Is that you?” the voice whispered quietly. Phil was afraid his imagination was paying tricks on him, and initially refused to respond. Before him lay three doors, two of which were locked, the other leading to a small sink and toilet. The locked door leading to the third room, chained and padlocked securely, began to speak again.

“Oi, you! I know you’re in there,” the voice whispered, this time slightly louder, “have they gone yet?”

“I, I dunno… I think I just watched them leave. I’m not really sure who to believe now to be completely honest with you, I think I’m losing my mind.” Phil replied hesitantly, not wishing to alert the attention of anyone who may be nearby.

“We can speak loudly then.” The voice said back. Phil knew he recognised the voice, but still wasn’t entirely convinced his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him.

“Ok then, but not too loudly. How long have you been here?” Questioned Phil, now overcome with curiosity.

“Wait a second, is that you, Phil?”

“…Emily?”

Steve and Jenn are left to fend for themselves in the jungles of Central America and the race against the clock begins to escape the rapidly spreading virus. Will Phil and Emily be able to escape the shack before the virus hits? And will Steve and Jenn successfully navigate through unknown terrain to find their friends? Find out next time, in “Followed Within: The Canyon Downstream.”

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