Kilo-29 (Damned of the 2/19th, Book 15)

Part 11

Site Kilo-29-Military Area
United States of America
Winter, 1993
Day Two-Morning

A shadow slowly moved across the light, too long arms, weirdly jointed knees, and a narrow thin body. I looked hunched over by the shadow, and I heard Donaldson inhale sharply.

"Steady, lads." I said. It wasn't as hard to stay calm as it would have been if I hadn't been shackled to 2/19th all those years. "Kincaid, it would be great if you would expedite opening the door."

"How will I tell when it's ready?" The private was breathless.

"The wheel will lock. Then hit the red lever." I told him, watching the shadow slowly get smaller. A trick of the light, as he moved away from the light he blocked less of it, but something about the shadow made my mouth go dry.

I could hear Kincaid puffing away, the almost silent whisper of the wheel rotating, Donaldson breathing fast and shallow, and a faint whine coming from somewhere. The smell of rotting meat was getting stronger, almost choking us where we stood waiting for whatever was casting the shadow to show itself.

Come on, bring it, come on, let's see what you've got...

For a split second the shadow resolved itself into a large man wearing an extreme cold weather mask, arctic parka, and cold weather pants/boots. The rage filled eyes, one of them bloodshot and swollen bored into me and the axe held in his hands was dripping blood from the bit. I blinked hard, squeezing my eyes shut, then opened them.

Only the shadow remained.

The wheel locked into place with a loud thump. I heard something rattle and there was a strange sigh behind us.

The door...

"Donaldson, check it for IR." I snapped, still watching the shadow. It was still shambling forward, a strange gait I didn't exactly recognize. Either whoever it was didn't have all their wires connected right or they didn't know exactly how a human moved.

"Clear for the first foot." Donaldson answered.

"Go when clear." I told them.

"But what about..." Kincaid started.

"Just do it, Kincaid." I snapped, still watching the shadow. It had slowed down, and stood there scratching itself for a moment. That might not have been what it was doing, but it sure looked like it was standing there scratching its ass.

Another larger shadow eclipsed it.

"Two feet." Donaldson said.

"Roger." I watched the shadow slowly move to the right of the first one.

"Sergeant." Donaldson sounded worried.

"Just more to kill." I told him, drawing my knife and waiting, breathing slow and deep and centering myself.

"We can get under." Kincaid said. His voice was tight but steady.

"Throw the duffels through." I told them. I heard two thumps, then heard boots on tile.

Another shadow was joining the first two. This one raised an arm straight up and then made circling motions with it.

...take the one on the left first, don't let them stay on your blind side...

...I know, Bomber...

"Come on, Sergeant, it's clear." Kincaid yelled.

"Pull the handle, tell me when it stops." I told them. I heard the bar clunk into position and felt something vibrate under my boots. The shadows were getting smaller, better defined. One dropped onto all fours and started moving forward, and I watched the side of the wall where they'd appear coming out of the corner.

"It's dropping, come on, Sergeant, you don't have much time!" Kincaid yelled.

"Cover, moving." I told them, turning around and dropping down. I lunged through the doorway and turned back around.

The shadows were still moving along the wall, but something looked wrong to me.

A closer light snapped on and the shadows moved into the new patch of light, the one on all fours scurrying to underneath the light and pausing for a moment.

"What. The. Fuck?" Donaldson sounded odd.

I kept watch as the door lowered all the way down, watched as those shadows moved into the newer patch of light.

Without anything to cast them.

The door thudded down with multi-ton finality.

"What the hell was that, Sergeant?" Kincaid's voice a bit a shrill.

"Your guess is as good as mine." I told him, looking at the hallway we were standing in.

Multiple doors with legends such as "Egress Team Operations Command" and "Civilian Population Coordinator" were on both sides of the hall. The lights were flickering, but providing enough light to see by, and I started moving down the hallway.

A piece of plexiglass was on the wall, with a piece of red labeling tape informing us "YOU ARE HERE" with a small red arrow.

It would have been nice if there had been a map behind the plexiglass.

"Sergeant, we have a right to know what's going on." Kincaid told me as we moved further into Operations.

"As far as Need to Know goes, yeah." I answered. "Did you have a question?"

Donaldson snorted.

"What the hell were those things? And what did you and Donaldson mean about "they" back there?" He asked.

We passed "PAC" on the left and "Site Coordination" on the right.

"They are whatever was casting those shadows. Whatever tore up my uniform when I was fighting with it in the locker room." I told him. "As far as what 'they' are, well, I've only got one guess."

We passed "QRF OIC/NCOIC" on the right and "Infrastructure Operations" on the left.

"What kind of guess?" Donaldson didn't sound like he wanted the answer.

"My grandmother had a saying that might apply to this." I told them.

"S.A.C. Operations" and "ARMILCOM Operations" went by.

"What?" Kincaid sounded like he was starting to get irritated.

"Old dark places attract old dark things." I told him.

I stopped next to "Site Operations Command" and stared at the door for a long moment. It was a heavy blast door, with a card swipe keypad combo, an older looking keypad, and a throw lever.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Kincaid asked as I reached out and grabbed the bar, throwing it up, hoping for a little luck.

"It means that places like this, if left abandoned, attract dark things." I told him, smiling as the door began to slowly raise up.

"What the fuck are dark things?" Kincaid was getting more frustrated.

...a dark liquid chuckle, full of frozen mirth and evil, echoing through the stairwell...

...Boots slamming to the floor after an unintelligible shout...

...the sound of a little girl singing in the fog that filled the hallway...

"Things." I told him. "Donaldson?"

"It's clear, Sergeant, no IR beams." He told me.

It wasn't surprising to see that it was an airlock about 10 feet deep. The door locked into place and I moved in, ignoring Kincaid repeating his question about what dark things were.

If I knew, I wouldn't wake up covered in sweat, positive that Tandy was right behind me, reaching for me with sharpened bone talons and a maniacal grin.

I threw the lever and waited for the door to lower.

"What do you think happened to the crews that came up here before us?" Donaldson asked while we waited for the door to shut all the way.

"Not enough data." I told him again.

"They're probably just fucking with us." Kincaid said.

...yeah, they peeled off their skins to fuck with you...

...hush, Taggart...

I rattled a pill into my mouth and started grinding it up.

"What do you keep taking?" Kincaid asked.

"Medicine." I answered, walking to the other door and throwing the bar.

"What kind of fucking medicine?" He asked. I glanced back at him. He was holding the rifle by the pistol grip, the barrel pointing at the floor, and he was rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. No threat.

"Mine." I told him, hoping he'd take the fucking hint.

The hallway beyond was steel walls, suspended ceiling, and tile floor, and two of the lights exploded when the door hit the halfway mark. The door shivered it's way up, once squealing with the ear tearing sound of metal tearing. The door dropped about a foot before it came to a stop with a scream, then we waited for the clunking to stop and the door to rise again.

When it was high enough, I led the two other soldiers through the door and threw the bar. I didn't want to stress the brakes or the retaining bolts again. The door dropped about a foot suddenly as soon as the bar locked before it squealed and shuddered to a stop.

"That's not good." Donaldson said.

"No shit?" I grinned at him.

The hallway was 20 paces long, and ended in another heavy door, this one only sporting the locking bar.

"Sergeant, I think we have a right to know what it is you keep taking." Kincaid tried again.

I wheeled around on him, glaring at him.

"Your rights?" I snarled. "Your. Fucking. Rights."

Kincaid took a hasty step back.

"This is the goddamn US Army, in case you forgot." I told him, stepping back into him. I was very aware of the knife in my hand.

...under the sternum, half twist, Ant...

...shut it, Bomber...

My head was pounding as I glared at him. "You have the rights accorded to you under the UCMJ, and nowhere in the UCMJ does it state that you have the right to know anything about another soldier's medical treatment if you are a subordinate or not in their chain of command."

I stepped back and took a deep breath.

"So mind your fucking business, Private." I turned back to the door and threw the bar.

"It's another airlock." Donaldson said from where he was crouched down to get a fast look. "No IR beams." Nothing seemed to fluster him, or he was trying to break the tension.

I turned back around and waved the two Privates into the airlock. This one was only about 10 feet long. Placards told us to have ID ready, that only authorized people were allowed past this point, that it was a secure area, that no cameras or other recording devices were allowed, that the current OIC was just a blank bracket, and that we were welcome to Kilo-29 Operations Center, along with the same logos that we'd been seeing the whole time. The two missile units, the DoD, and the CoG.

Once they were in, I made sure to keep Kincaid on my right, where I had peripheral vision to track him, then threw the bar.

"Kincaid." He jerked when I said his name. "Just trust me, but don't ask me personal questions and don't expect me to breach clearance just because you have questions. If the shit hits the fan, I won't leave you behind and I'll be right with you."

He nodded as the door sunk in with the familiar thump. I moved over and threw the inside bar and we waited for the door to raise.

A door was on the other side, less than six inches from the blast door.

...this is new. It means Kincaid is plotting to kill you! Kill him first!...

...shut up, Taggart...

Once the door locked, the door on the other side shivered. I reached out and grabbed the lever and turned it.

The door swung open to reveal a large dark room. As soon as I stepped in the lights came on, a few of them exploding, but enough remained for me to be able to see the room. There were computer banks in a series of circles, with a large desk at the middle of the room. I could make out three sets of stairs on the sides of the room. There were large television monitors on the sides of the room and I wondered which terminals controlled them.

Several of the terminal monitors facing us flickered and came on.

"Can you open the doors?" Kincaid asked.

"I'm not sure." I admitted, walking along the outer ring. The monitors and terminals were labeled with terminology I didn't quite understand.

And hadn't seen before.

Of course, "Tracking Station 3" didn't need any explanation even if I hadn't seen it outside of an Atlas site.

It took about ten minutes to check the room, but I couldn't see any of them that might be the master system control.

"You two stay here, I'm going to check downstairs." I told them. The far stairwell from the door had "OIC OPERATIONS" on it with an arrow pointing upwards. The arrow pointing down told me that it was "MAIN COMPUTER OPERATIONS", and that's what we needed.

I pulled out my little green notebook as I walked down the stairs. Old as dirt computers waited on me, most of them either asleep or turned off. Only four terminals sat there, and the curved walls let me know that this room was at the bottom of the egg.

Following the instructions that the Air Force Tech had taught me, it only took a few minutes to find out what I needed to know. A few minutes after that and I'd taken the time to set the codes, override the keypads on four damaged doors, and done the best I could.

When I came back upstairs Donaldson went from a hopeful smile to worried looking. Kincaid was opening the desk drawers and glancing at the contents before shutting the drawer again. When he saw me, he had a hopeful look on his face.

"Well, are we getting out of here?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Is the system trashed?" Donaldson asked.

"No." I told them. "The facility is in full lockdown mode."

"Can't you unlock it?" Kincaid asked.

"No. Nobody can for the next 100 hours." I said.

"Why not?" I couldn't tell if Kincaid was pissed at me, or at the situation.

"Because some fucking genius cut the links between this site and NORAD and the other key facilities, so the site thinks that we've gone to total war mode." I told them. "But, I have good news, bad news, and angry news."

"What's the good news?" Kincaid asked.

"I turned the power from standby to active, so we can use the living areas, and the food stocks are logged as being at 100%."

"What's the bad news?" Donaldson asked.

"Someone accessed the system in the last hour and tried to lock me out." I told them.

"Who?" Kincaid asked. "Was it 'them'?"

"Nope, that's the angry news."

"I'll bite. What's the angry news?" Donaldson asked.

"Those CIA guys know why." I ground my teeth.