Killer Thrillers Box Set: 3 Techno-Thriller, Action/Adventure Science Fiction Thrillers (48 page)

“Yeah. It blew up. It’s gone. The sub, I mean. It’s completely gone.”
 

Lindsay Richards gasped, and Dr. Pavan sucked in a quick breath of air. The three marines were seated next to each other, their eyes intense, ready. They held their guns in their laps, but their hands were tightened over the stocks, their fingers near the trigger.
 

“There was a wall of fire and then a bunch of water. I can’t believe we got the door shut in time,” Mark said.
 

“But why?” Jen asked. “How?”
 

“It must have been the other sub—the one that disabled us before,” Carter answered. “There’s no other way. No sub would just explode like that. They must have known we were inside the station and then opened fire…”

Things had gone from terrible to much
, much
worse. Jen’s mind was reeling, trying to make sense of the events of the past twenty-four hours. Reese, Dr. Storm, now this—
 

“We need to keep moving; we can’t stay here. That other sub—whoever disabled us and blew up our ride—isn’t going to just head home. We’re too isolated out here. They saw us dock, and they’ll probably be heading to the other docking station now. The airlock behind us won’t open again since it’s been compromised.” Carter’s voice was back to its normal stoicism.

Jen wondered if it was a façade, if he was as frightened as she was.
 

“We’ll get to the power station at the main entrance and see about getting some lights on. Since we haven’t seen any sign of leaks so far, I’ll assume we can still get power to the main complex. Come on, let’s go.”
 

He didn’t wait for the group to stand up.

CHAPTER 15

THE GROUP OF SOLDIERS AND civilians jogged in silence around the circumference of the great underwater dome. Mark couldn’t help but marvel at the amazing technology required to create such a monstrosity this far under the ocean’s surface. Even the math seemed too miraculous to be true. There was no way modern technology could effectively build the walls thick enough using just steel or concrete; he knew they must have been some sort of alloy or a combination of materials.

Back on the sub, he had seen a schematic of the research station. The hallway they were in now ran around half the circumference of the upper section of the dome—Level Three, if he remembered correctly—connecting the two docking stations to the main entrance and power grid. The entire structure was split into fourteen levels, numbered from the uppermost level to the lowest, each using the nomenclature of French colors. He also knew the docking stations—two each, both capable of docking two submarines at once—were situated on the trench side of the dome, one toward the southernmost end, the other farther north, connected by this hallway on one side of the circular dome.

The dome around the research station was designed to withstand the immense pressure of five miles of seawater pressing down on it. Between this hallway and the ocean was an open space of about five feet where the air pressure was maintained and controlled. Outside of this, separated by another thick wall, was another open space, built for redundancy and added support. Finally, the outermost layer of the dome was a series of hexagon-shaped frames, each with a width of about two feet, that connected to each other and formed the outer structural support.

He tried to imagine what it had been like to build this place. The sheer manpower required must have been staggering. It seemed solid, too. If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have believed they were underwater right now. It was a real shame this place was kept secret for so long.

Jen was running next to him, her gait steady and light. They were no longer holding hands, and Mark realized they hadn’t held hands or had any physical contact whatsoever since they’d split up over a year ago. While they were still on speaking terms, the relationship was still strained and awkward. They had mostly tried to keep things light around Reese, not talking about the separation or “the situation,” as they called it.

Mark thought back to that fateful night, about a year and a half ago. They were both completely absorbed in their work and found themselves sharing time with Reese like a relay team. Jen mostly worked during the day at the university and would come home in the early afternoon to swap out with Mark. She would hang out with Reese while Mark worked, and they’d start the process over again each day, their lives dancing around each other without connecting.

His work had been demanding more and more of him. Reese was almost eleven years old and had begun acting out in all new ways, and Jen had started working more closely with Dr. Storm on his research.

Mark didn’t drink—had never tasted alcohol in his life—but he found himself going out more often with the guys after work. They would grab a few beers and vent for a few hours before heading home, usually well after midnight. It became part of the routine, and Mark knew Jen didn’t care one way or another. She was too caught up in her work to notice, or so he thought.

He pulled up to the house at around 2:30 AM and saw that the kitchen light was on. He entered and saw Jen sitting at the table; she’d waited up for him. They argued, it escalated, and it ended with Mark’s leaving and staying at the office for the night. He considered coming home the next night, but instead just e-mailed that he thought it was better if they “took a little time…”

That was the catalyst. Two days later, when Reese was at a friend’s house and Jen was supposed to be gone at a conference, Mark was visited by a female acquaintance who’d approached him at the bar. She had been outgoing to say the least, and Mark was turned off by her attempt to play the “troubled mysterious” role. When she followed him home that night, he’d considered calling the police. His personality got the best of him, however, and he invited her in to talk.

She was half-naked when Jen walked in on them in the living room. He froze, unsure of how to respond. The silence and hesitation told Jen all she needed to know, and she had just turned around and left; no words were exchanged.

It took three weeks for them to talk again, but only because Jen needed Mark to go pick up their son from camp. He’d kept Reese for the next three days, and they talked again briefly through text message after that. Things continued like that up until last night, when he’d called her for the first time since.

He sighed, wondering why he’d done it. He didn’t even remember the woman’s name he had almost slept with. It was a moment of weakness, but Mark also knew it went deeper than just that.
If only she knew…

As they neared what seemed to be the end of the long hallway, Mark pushed the thoughts back in his mind. They came to a door that looked like it had been cut out of the concrete, blocking their way forward. Carter reached it first and turned the handle. It was unlocked. He pulled it open, and Saunders and Mason ran inside.

“Clear!” The rest of the group entered, Carter walking in last and closing the door behind him. It was dark, but a flashlight appeared from one of the soldiers’ packs, and Mark could tell immediately where they were.

“It’s the power station,” he said.

“Can we get the lights on?”

“There should be a fusebox somewhere; anyone see it?”

Before they could respond, Dr. Pavan flipped a switch inside a metal wall housing. They heard a hum, and the small power station was quickly bathed in a warm amber light. He waited to see if the fixture would get any brighter, but Jen called their attention to the other side of the room.

“Oh my God,” she said. They huddled around her and Mark noticed that one wall of the power station was made of glass. The light wasn’t coming from the inside of their room at all; it was coming from
beyond
this glass wall.

Stretching below them was an immense open space dotted with small buildings set around an interior circle. Inside this circle, there seemed to be some kind of
plant set in rows…

“It’s a farm,” Saunders said.

“Come on,” said Hog. “Let’s get down there. You guys see stairs anywhere?”

There was a door in the other side of the small power room they were in, and the team followed Hog out and into the other hallway. About fifteen feet away, a tiny stairwell branched off to the right and down. Hog looked back and got the go-ahead from Carter.

The stairwell did indeed end one level below—Level Four, the same level as the open field—and they started walking toward the central circle of small buildings. Mark saw that one of the larger buildings was a barn, modernized in some ways but still sporting the characteristic arched roof. Next to it, he saw a small silo and what looked like a combine.

“Whoa, check this out,” Mason said. “Look up. The upper floors are open in the center, like the one we just came from.”

Sure enough, Mark looked up and saw more levels above their heads, each a giant circular hallway forming concentric circles stacked on top of one another, like rings that got smaller and smaller. Each level had windows that looked out onto the open area they were in. At the very top of the dome, a semi-transparent bubble hung from the ceiling like a futuristic chandelier. It was bright enough to provide the light currently lighting the dome’s interior. He felt like he was in an absolutely massive hotel atrium. The only thing missing were tall glass elevators.

The open space was huge, and it took them a good five minutes to reach the center. Along the way Mark took in the massive dome’s interior, open at this level to the ceiling. It was like being inside a glass bowl—a
huge
glass bowl.
 

Mark looked across the open expanse and saw a rock wall jutting from the ground opposite their location. The wall extended from the floor of this level to the roof of the sloping bowl, enclosing nearly a quarter of the level behind natural rock. They’d used this wall as an anchoring point; an earth-made foundation for the research station.
 

“Is that corn?” A question from the team caused Mark to look out over the open field on this level’s floor.
 

“It is,” Mark said. “And it looks like those stocks have actual corncobs on them!” He ran up to the first row of corn, eyeing it suspiciously. The team walked up behind him and began inspecting the crop for themselves.
 

“Do you think they’ve been preserved somehow?” Jen asked.

“For thirty years? I doubt it. Maybe it was planted, and then just kept growing, year after year?” Mason said.
 

Mark responded. “No, there’s no way. This crop is fresh, and it’s tilled properly. Everything’s still neatly in a row, and besides, without light,
nothing
can survive…” He squinted up at the source of the bright light above him. “Maybe that light up there’s a UV bulb, or something that emits Vitamin D. That makes sense, considering they’d need an alternative source of sunlight to grow anything here.”
 

Saunders spoke from in front of them. “Right. There could even be some kind of fiber optic cable that transfers UV light from the surface down to the light source.”
 

She walked along the field of corn and now peered around a corner. “Hey, they’ve got greenhouses here too, it looks like. Three, at least from what I can see.” She was looking back next to the stairs they’d descended. The group joined her, and for the first time Mark noticed a track—sort of a miniature railroad track—extending in both directions under the stairs. He’d been too preoccupied with the immensity of the space to have noticed it before. He followed the track around to where Saunders had pointed, and saw that the track curved right around the large greenhouses, complete with a small station situated outside the largest glass house.
 

“Unbelievable,” he whispered.
 

Jen heard him. “Seriously. This place must have been a full-fledged operation back in the day. I can’t believe all the work
that must have gone into it. Greenhouses, corn fields,
railroads
? It’s insane.”
 

“It is,” Hog added. “I still can’t believe the corn’s alive, either. My uncle’s a farmer. I’ve seen how much work it takes to keep this stuff alive year after year… and this has survived how many years? Without
light
?”
 

Suddenly another voice entered the conversation from somewhere behind them.

“Yes,
yes
—but you assume… there was no light here.”

Carter and the three other soldiers whipped around, their guns drawn. At first Mark couldn’t see anyone, and then he saw movement next to one of the smaller buildings at the outskirts of the circle. A man stepped out from behind a crate, short and squat. His hair was disheveled, as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Strangely, though, he was wearing an oxford shirt and khaki slacks. Aside from his hair, he looked like he had just gotten off work and decided to go for a stroll through the cornfield. He was quirky, awkward, and had a winking twitch every few seconds.
 

“Stop!” Carter shouted. “Don’t take another step forward. Tell us who you are and what you’re doing here.”

The man frowned a moment, twitched, then answered. “El…Elliot Bingham. Facilities—Facilities
Technician
—here. Maintenance, other stuff.”

CHAPTER 16

CARTER DIDN’T DROP HIS GUN, and his team of soldiers didn’t either. They stared down the newcomer, the small, odd man who had suddenly appeared behind them. Carter stepped forward toward the man and repeated his last demand.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Bingham?”
 

Elliot twitched. “J—just walking. Walking. Checking. Fixing? Working.”
 

Jen scrunched her eyebrows. This man was clearly suffering from some kind of psychological deterioration. Before she could question him to discover more, Lindsay spoke up.

“Mr. Bingham, are you alright? You sound…confused.” Her words were blunt, but they were the words each of the team members was thinking.
 
Nelson scoffed and breathed in sharply.
 

Carter cleared his throat. “Yes, Mr. Bingham, are you feeling okay?”