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Chapter Two
The world around me was a deep void, darkness like an undersea abyss so bottomless no shred of light permeated it.
Am I even awake?My mind wasn’t quite sure whether it had returned to consciousness or not. It was hard to tell in this environment.
But then there was that
smell. The air here seemed tainted with a bizarre, dusty, burned aroma like nothing I’d ever encountered before.
I blinked, but the darkness remained.
The movement did, however, instill a sharp stabbing pain in my temple that told me I was awake after all.
I let a hand rub at the point where my head throbbed, and it came away sticky.
At least your brains aren’t hanging out. I hope…I tugged myself into a sitting position and probed for any other injuries, but other than some aching joints that would probably turn a nasty purple-blue in the morning, I seemed in one piece.
The question now was, where was I? And more importantly, could I get out?
Without the luxury of light, I wasn’t going to find answers to either question.
Fumbling in the dark, I scoured my inner jacket pocket until I found my book of matches. I’ve found along with my knife, they’re something you should never leave home without.
My chilled fingers struggled to bend enough to strike one, but I got there in the end.
For the short while it gave me light, I was able to assess where I had landed.
The chamber was much smaller than I’d have imagined and was metal on all sides.
The weird smell I’d detected was no doubt coming from the thick grey carpet of ash that covered the bottom of said chamber.
Basically, I was sitting in an incinerator.
I glanced down at the powder and cringed.
Animal or human..? The spent match singed the tips of my fingers and then flickered out.
I lit another.
There had to be something here I could use, and there had to be a way out.
Firstly, I needed a better source of light; one that was going to last longer than a few seconds.
I scoured the tiny compartment until I saw something that had shape in the far corner.
My hand reached out and felt the cold, hard sensation of bone.
Pushing away any thoughts of what the bone actually came from, I took off my jacket and tore off strips from my flannel shirt. I had no accelerant to work with, so getting it to burn was going to take a little longer.
I lit yet another match and started the process, blowing gently to encourage the tiny flame to grow.
Eventually, the small strip of shirt caught, and I was able to wrap it around the length of bone to make a gruesome torch.
How long it would last was anyone’s guess, but for now, I could see.
It was eerie being sat in the middle of some cremation chamber for spent experiments, and the only solace I could console myself with was that there was at least no power in the complex.
I guess those goons can’t fire this thing up and fry me, at least. A couple of years previously I’d been trapped in a chamber at a nuclear plant, and while it hadn’t exactly been an incinerator, this place gave me the creeps just thinking about my past experience.
I tapped on the walls and was surprised at how much noise the motion caused.
If I had to bust out of this joint, then the bad guys may well hear me and come running.
Unfortunately, a quick appraisal of the place told me that was probably going to be my only option. All that I could find was a tiny hatch that had probably been used to empty the ash when it became too full.
In fact, the hole was going to be pretty hard to squeeze through, even if I could get it open.
I moved my impromptu torch closer. The hinges and any lock or catch were on the outside.
Frustration began to creep into my mind and I lashed out at the door with my boot.
It shouldn’t have moved, not one bit, and yet I’d felt something give.
I kicked again so hard my ankle hurt, and this time the hatch appeared to warp, just a touch. Maybe this was why some of the bones were still intact – there was a weakness somewhere where the door met the frame, allowing some heat loss.
I examined it with my now fading light to convince myself, and sure enough it had buckled a fraction. I tried to peer through the tiny crack between the door and frame, and noted the latch position on the outside.
It was a simple mechanism where a clasp dropped into position to secure the door.
If I could crease the flap enough to poke something through, I might be able to knock the latch upwards and out of place.
I put another strip of cloth on my torch and waited for it to ignite, then began to kick again relentlessly.
The noise was reminiscent of the garbage guys emptying trash cans, and I figured I only had a short time to make this work, or get caught by my killer friends from up above.
I checked on my handiwork, letting my fingers trace the crease in the metal. There was enough room to reach the latch now, but I needed something long enough, and hard enough to work with.
A smaller bone fragment. I grimaced at the gory idea, but began sifting through the ash with my free hand.
My forefinger touched something sharp, and I pulled the sliver of bone free from its ghoulish tomb.
Not the nicest lock pick I’ve ever used, I can tell you, but it would have to suffice.
Scrambling back over to the hatch, I pushed the fragment through the gap I’d made and onto the bottom of the latch. Then, using my palm and a little brute force, I whacked at the thing until I felt something budge.
I needed the latch to lift up and over.
Not quite.
I tried again, careful not to let the sharp bone slip and go into my hand.
This time, I felt something pop and give way.
I stopped turned, and kicked at the hatch again, and this time it shuddered open with a grating whine.
Wasting no time, I dropped onto my stomach and began to squeeze myself through the gap. It was almost claustrophobic, feeling my flesh scraping against the metal sides, but with a couple of good pushes with my feet, I was through and tumbling onto the floor with my torch.
The light almost gave out as it rolled against the concrete, but I quickly retrieved it, then turned to grab the jacket I’d taken off from where it still lay in the incinerator.
Where I was hopefully going, I’d need it.
Once it was on, I played my torch around the corridor, trying to get my bearings.
My eyes noticed a recess in one of the walls, and I headed for it. As I drew closer, I realized it was the entrance to an elevator.
But there’s no power… That left only one option – I had to free climb up the shaft. It’s not something I enjoy, as I don’t really like heights, but I’ll admit this wasn’t the first time I’d had to do it to save my skin.
I took out my knife and pried open the doors just enough to get my fingers in, then yanked them wider once my hands could get leverage.
Inside, I noticed a glass “emergency” locker in the wall that contained a flashlight. But would it still work?
I used the back of my hand to shatter the safety glass and pulled out the light. My hands were still cold, and I fumbled for a second with the switch, but eventually a beam shot from the thing, illuminating the elevator car much brighter than my bone torch had.
I put out the torch and let the flashlight play across the ceiling.
In the center, as I’d hoped, was a hatch that led up to the cables and the shaft beyond. I jumped up, knocking the hatch cover with my palm until it bounced from its seat and I was able to reach up, grab the edges and pull myself through.
The shaft above me looked daunting in the semi-darkness, and I paused a second to reflect on what I needed to do, and how I was going to do it.
Choosing a spot to start my ascent, I stuffed the flashlight in my belt so that it shone upwards, and was just about to find a good handhold when I heard something.
I paused, my ears on full alert.
There were voices from down below, and they were getting closer to the elevator. It seemed my buddies from above had heard my escape and come running.
I quickly replaced the hatch cover and waited silently, hoping the voices would fade into the distance.
They didn’t.
Instead, the elevator suddenly shivered like a dormant creature coming to life. I heard the buzz of electricity and could see a glimmer of light from the car below through cracks in the hatch.
So there was still power available to the complex, and it appeared the goons had switched it back on to aid in catching me.
The car shuddered again, and this time began to move.
It was going up, which was right where I had intended to go anyway.
The goons were inadvertently giving me a ride, and they had no clue they had a hitcher!
I looked up as the elevator began to rise rapidly, and the thought struck me that there might not be enough room at the height of the shaft for me to actually remain on top of the thing without getting squashed.
Reflexively, I hunkered down, careful not to let my movement give away my position.
Eventually, the car slowed, and I could see that thankfully there would be room for me – just.
The elevator stopped, and I heard the doors below swish open. The men began to talk again, this time more excitedly, as if something had happened I wasn’t aware of.
After a few minutes, the voices faded, but had they gone far enough for me to risk climbing down into the car?
I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
Carefully, and quietly I removed the hatch plate again and slowly slid my body down into the space below.
It was empty, but the doors were closed, so I had no idea what was on the other side.
Now or never, Mac.I pushed the button to open the doors, and they hissed, moving apart.
Beyond them was the entrance to the lab where I’d started out.
This was too good to be true.
The doors to the outside world were still open, beckoning me to dare try and escape.
I flicked off the flashlight – there was no point in giving the bad guys a beacon to find me.
Then, tentatively, I moved out into the entrance, and beyond that, into the fake mine building.
My pack had vanished, so once I ventured back onto the hillside, I had no equipment, save for my knife and whatever my pockets held. Nor did I have my gloves, and that was pretty worrying, given the time of year, and weather when I’d found the place.
I slowly edged to where I’d entered, pressing my back into the wall as I looked out at the mountainside.
To my surprise, darkness greeted me.
How long I’d been out cold in the incinerator was anybody’s guess, but it had been longer than I’d imagined, that was for sure.
Not only that, but the weather front that had been coming in had hit hard.
The large snowflakes from before had turned into even huger flurries until the terrain had been almost smothered in a whiteout.
And although I was pretty experienced in these conditions, I was not familiar with the territory.
Shoulda took up the doc’s offer of help. But then she would have been in this pickle too, and I don’t like getting innocent folks mixed up in my messes.
Well, now or never, big guy… I urged myself out of my cover and onto the hillside, and then nearly stepped right on back again when I spotted the bad guys.
They were over by another dilapidated building – this one I suspected was a real relic.
Both men had changed into more suitable clothing to be on the mountain, and were looking at something at the back of a snowmobile.
Great, I’m on foot, and they've got transport.Now wasn’t the time to want to kick myself for coming up here alone, and without transport of my own.
Nope, now was the time to move first, think later.
While the two men seemed preoccupied, I made a dive for the nearest treeline, at least that would give me some cover, and make it more difficult for them to follow.
My boots dragged in the even thicker snow, and I felt the weight of the drift holding me back like a giant, invisible hand.
I pushed harder, ignoring the stinging sensation as the blizzard bit into the exposed flesh of my cheeks and hands.
The nearest tree beckoned me on, and I thought I would reach the haven of its dark, looming branches before I was spotted.
C’mon… From behind me, I heard a yelp and knew my game was up.
I ignored the revving of the snowmobile’s engine as I practically fell against the tree, panting.
My eyes darted around me, my brain going into overload as I tried to cook up a plan, and it had to be fast.
They’d surely seen me enter the forested area here. Maybe I could use that to my advantage.
I hurried past my tree, looking for small, pliable branches on the smaller growth behind it.
There were a few that would serve my needs, and I quickly bent the thinnest ones over, making them meet in the middle. Using a strip of cloth I’d originally torn for my torch, I tied the two together so that they hung about chest height.
That is, if you were seated on a snowmobile.
Now it was time to play possum.
I couldn’t run fast enough to get away while they had a vehicle, so I only had one option.
I sprawled myself out, just beyond the tied branches, hoping they would spot my prone form and hone in on it, not my trap.
The motor sound was growing closer, and I could see the headlight cutting through the flurries around me.
Would the snowstorm hide my trap enough? Or would it hide me all-too well and I’d be ploughed over by my assailants?
I held my breath, my numb face pressed into the icy mulch and my eyes closed.
Whack!
I heard the whiplash as my branches tore the two men from their seats and eventually snapped.
I rolled over, my eyes wide as the snowmobile careered towards me without its driver.
I rolled again and again, smelling the hot exhaust and fumes as the vehicle raced past me and then toppled onto its side, motor roaring.
I gulped, but there was no time to reflect.
One of the men appeared out cold, but the other was stumbling to his feet and reaching for a pocket.
No time to wait and see if that pocket held a gun.
I staggered up from my own prone position and lunged at the guy before he had a chance to make a move of his own.
My moves were slow and sluggish, held back by the snow and the howling storm around me, but I still managed to deck him on the chin with a good right, knocking him back into the snow.
“Oww!”
Let me tell you, punching someone does not come without pain, no matter what you see in the movies.
I shook my hand, knowing my knuckles would now be skinned as well as frozen.
The guy didn’t move, and I was happy about that. It meant I didn’t have to slug him again.
I stumbled backwards, still shaking my hand until I reached the snowmobile. The front skid was bent. Given time, I could probably have fixed it, but time was one commodity I didn’t have, so it was of no use to me.
I took out my pocket knife and cut the fuel line. I wasn’t taking any chances that my “friends” could fix it, either.
Then I began to run.
I didn’t know where or how long my already tired body would carry me, but for now, away from the ZaliPharm stooges was all I had.
The snow I was pushing through seemed to get deeper and heavier against my legs, and I paused as I reached a clearing. I tried to shield my eyes with frozen hands, but it was no use.
All I could make out was go left and there were more trees, go right, more trees, or straight ahead into an field of snow, that, you’ve guessed it ended in more trees – albeit in the distance.
My internal compass was spooked.
Normally I have a pretty good sense of direction, but in this white miasma there was nothing to guide it, and I didn’t have time to think too long.
I pressed forwards, aiming to go across the field and hope the deluge around me hid my tracks.
After a few moments I looked behind and checked.
It was working.
I’d almost gotten half way when I realized that maybe this hadn’t been such a great MacGyver moment after all.
The ground beneath me suddenly felt like it was giving way, shifting, vanishing, until it seemed like I was being sucked into a maelstrom of ice and snow.
I splayed out my arms, hoping to slow my descent, and for a second or two it worked, but then more snow pelted me from above, covering my face until I was sure I would smother.
I’m gonna die out here… My fall ended as abruptly as it had begun, and I dared to clear some of the snow from my face with a free hand to see where I had landed.
Above me was a gaping hole in the tundra with thick icy walls.
I had stumbled onto a snow-covered crevice and my weight had brought the top layer down. It happened a lot on this kind of terrain, but I had no ice pick or any other essentials to try and climb my way out.
Worse still, I was convinced by the amount of movement below my legs, that I was merely stuck by my waist with the amount of compacted snow that had fallen. No way had I actually reached the bottom of the fissure yet, and if I moved around too much, I just might get to find out how deep it was.
But I can’t just lie here. Think, MacGyver. THINK! Thinking is, of course, one of my best attributes, but you try it halfway down an icy fracture, with only a pile of compacted snow between you and oblivion.
Not to mention, no tools, no light, and if I moved my arms, it could move the snow enough to make me fall.
And of course, more snow was still pouring from the heavens, blinding me every time I looked up.
Risk or not, I had to move.
I shifted my right arm first, carefully trying to pull it completely free without stirring things up.
Something moved, along with my body, just an inch, and then settled again.
I held my breath, waiting to see if I was about to meet my maker, but there was no more movement.
I gulped, about to try my left arm, when I thought I heard voices.
I didn’t move, but simply listened.
There were definitely two voices coming from above, and they were close to the crevice opening.
The goons had found me, and my goose was almost certainly cooked.
TBC…
