John Triptych
LEMURIA
In loving memory of Laura.
1
DR. LAUREN REEVES HAD been trained to deal with all sorts of emergencies, but her myriad skills and experience could not ever have prepared her for what was happening at that very moment. Death was near, so close she could feel its cold, wet fingers reaching out to her.
The corridor was flooded, the watery black muck up to her waist. One of her shoes had been ripped away when the inner laboratory was hit by the deluge that knocked out most of the installation’s power, and the sharp pain she felt on her bare ankle meant she would have to make it out of there on only one good leg. It had taken mere minutes for the odds of her survival to be reduced to a single percentile, and the fear began to gnaw at her very bones.
Pulling out her smartphone from the inner pocket of her dirtied lab smock, she tried to call for help, only to realize the saltwater had already shorted it out, and it wouldn’t power up.
“God damn it!” Throwing the phone away wasn’t going to help, but she did it anyway. The flattened device bounced off the corridor wall with a heavy thud before making a brief splash into the brackish water beside her.
The emergency floodlight at the other end of the tunnel provided the only illumination for her. It felt like she was trapped in some underground sewer and the lone, distant orb of light up ahead seemed to be her one beacon of hope.
Gritting her teeth, Lauren began to limp forward, every other step an excruciating ordeal. Whenever her wounded left foot touched the silt bottom a sharp stabbing pain shot up her leg. She tried to hop using her good limb, but gave up after she nearly fell sideways into the surrounding water.
The wading was slow, but with each step she began to make progress. “Come on,” she whispered painfully to herself. “You can do this.”
It had been a plum position, to be offered the job as the leader of Project Proteus. Lauren knew that once all her achievements were made public, it would make her the most famous scientist since Albert Einstein. The accolades she would garner would be a fitting revenge after the firestorm that had made her a pariah in the scientific community. Yet in the span of a few hours, it had all gone to hell.
She had warned him many, many times before. We might not be able to control it.
Emeric just wouldn’t listen. Yes, we can. Don’t worry about it. My security teams will handle it if something goes wrong.
And something did go wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. First it was the freak cyclone that briefly knocked out the main power, forcing them to use the island’s backup generators. During the brief interruption, nobody had told the security staff to reset the circuit breakers, and so the main containment unit of the interior module had actually turned off by itself. By the time they had realized something was amiss, it was already too late.
When the inner laboratory was suddenly plunged into darkness, she didn’t even had time to pull the alarm switch before the screaming began.
Lauren figured she must have survived by sheer luck, for she had gone back to the outer perimeter of the lab to retrieve something when it broke out of its cage. The dying cries of her colleagues still echoed in her mind, filling her with a creeping guilt. She would have to live with those memories if she could somehow make it out of this.
It’s loose, but confined within the inner facility, she thought. I need to head over to the other side of the island and warn them.
Lauren could see the short stairwell clearly now. Just a few more steps and she could finally get out of the flooded area and onto dry land, at least. The big house upstairs was fully stocked, and there were plenty of boats anchored along the private pier.
Just as she placed her hand on the dry concrete steps and began to pull herself up, Lauren heard a shrill noise coming from the landing above her. It was a sound like a combination of a dolphin’s squeal and the hiss of a snake.
She looked up in horror, and their eyes met. Something powerful curled around the radiating floodlight and began to squeeze its metal housing, completely crushing the bulb and plunging the whole corridor into darkness. It preferred to hunt without the light.
Lauren screamed for the last time.
2
ADJUSTING HIS GLASSES so they wouldn’t droop over the tip of his nose, Nick Dirkse sighed as he stared at the lines of code on his dual flat-screen monitors. The client’s alpha build had been overdue for more than a week now, and his “boss” Art Treadway wasn’t happy.
It wasn’t his team’s fault, really. The client had unexpectedly called in, and given them a new list of things that they had to put into the main software build, and it meant they needed to completely recode the base engine. Adding the new functionalities meant all the work already done with the supporting modules had to be shelved until the core was reworked. Doreen was his lead programmer, and an unexpected bout of pneumonia had landed her in the hospital, further delaying any additional work. Nick wanted to hire a freelance coder to compensate for the time crunch, but Art told him there just wasn’t any budget for it.
The small Los Angeles software firm he co-owned wasn’t doing too well, and they desperately needed this project. The night before, Nick had sneaked back into the office just after dinner to finish up his code review on the build, and he had inadvertently spied on Art. His partner had still been there, locked inside the conference room, and Nick could hear Art’s pitiful sobs while begging his creditors over the phone to give him just a little more time.
He’d known Art since they’d both started out as IT interns with a tech startup during their college days. They kept in touch over the years, and when Art bumped into him while Nick was taking his family to the Redondo Beach pier for a Sunday outing, they both discussed their desire to strike out on their own. Art had a bit of money left over from his inheritance, and he asked Nick if he would like to work together.
Nick naturally said yes.
The first few years were tough. It was a crowded industry, the competition relentless. Software builds had to be turned in on time, with as few bugs in them as possible. Contract negotiations were like a feast of piranhas where clients ran hard deals, whittling down their software firm’s potential profits until all Art and Nick could hope for was to break even. There were times they even took a project for a loss, just so they could gain a new account.
Art had been somewhat carefree when it came to spending at first, but Nick soon realized his friend’s petty cash was fast running out. The staff needed to be paid, operating expenses covered, even on failed or rejected projects. The overdue bills began to pile up. To help Art out, Nick began spending more time at the office, sometimes sleeping over, just to finish a build on time. What was once an extraordinary sacrifice soon became routine.
Nick narrowed his eyes as he spotted another mistake in the assembly code. After making the corrections he leaned back in his chair, took his glasses off and rubbed his tired eyes. The local time on his monitor screen was half past four in the afternoon. With more than several thousand lines of code to check and recheck, there was no way he would be back for dinner at the house. I’m going to have to order something at the pizza place next door.
A hand gripped the top divider of his cubicle. Art poked his balding head through the opening. “How we doing, Nick?”
Nick kept his eyes focused on the screen before putting his glasses back on and resuming his work. “I got the latest build from Rhee, and I’m just checking the code for bugs now.”