It sounds like horse shit to me, she ranted in her head as she pushed her legs forward to enter the platform area feet first. Oh, shit, what if they only sent me in here to close me in? she panicked. What if they fill up this little tunnel and bury me alive? Nina started hyperventilating again. These men would not be above such an atrocity.
But then she heard a humming sound just past the platform, where it slanted into a short corridor. From there a doorway led into the well-lit chamber she was looking for.
“This is just too fucking weird, man,” Nina whispered in awe as she followed the slight decline toward the chamber where the eerie humming had grown louder. “There is no… way…” she said, as she stole carefully through the shadows toward the doorway, “there could be lights on… here.” It was obviously not sunlight, so the illumination had to come from electricity. The thought mangled her logic. How could there be electricity at work where no one has been for over hundreds of years? Electrical currents as we know it today had not even been invented yet the last time anyone was in here.
Nina warily crept around the doorway, crouching as not to be seen immediately if anyone, by some ridiculous twist of fate, would be present. But there was no one there. Her dark eyes, now slowly recovering from her crying spell, combed the place for movement. But it was what she saw that took the wind out of her sails and perplexed her no end.
It was an engine room. Various machines, some of which she did not even know existed already, stood buzzing in the warm room. There were pods like those from old science fiction movies. Large clocks, dating the year, day, and time of every country in the world filled an entire wall that went up so high into the shadows above that Nina could not discern a ceiling.
Her heart raced, not only in fear of being discovered, but for the discovery she was privy to. In that regard Nina knew that she was just bait, or a helpful little worm to the giant pelt-wearing bastards waiting for her to return. There was no way they were going to let a stranger, a human stranger to them, walk away from a discovery like this. She was as good as dead if she went back to them. Nina was stuck in a life-threatening conundrum that felt like living purgatory. If she returned, she was dead. If she stayed, she’d surely perish. If she was discovered by whatever implemented these machines, God knows what fate would befall her.
“I’m fucked,” she said plainly.
To her right a collection of silver containers hummed, releasing vapor from the small slits in their doors. Worried that it could be liquid nitrogen or its chemical cousins, she took great care not to touch or inhale it. The handles of the containers were not bolted or fastened in any way. She remembered that she was not supposed to touch the generator with her bare hands, which now made complete sense.
“Cryo containers,” she marveled as she passed them, one after the other. It was heaven to Nina to be in a room filled with hot air exuded by all the engines at work around her and she took a moment to remove her gloves and warm her hands on the pipes of one of the ventilators.
Ventilators, she realized. They are only needed where biological agents are involved. Are there people down here? But Nina knew that the term was used loosely, as people came in all hideous varieties where the SS and its legacy was concerned. What the hell is going on down here? Nina’s frown deepened as the possibilities came to mind. It could not be an underground substation if it was buried under a 5-foot layer of rock that had to be chiseled through.
Everywhere she looked there were meters, measuring tubes, and power wattage controls, settings for alternate currents and battery chargers the size of Buicks. It was mind-blowing to the curious historian. There was a thick, multi-shelved cupboard with Perspex sliding doors where myriad containers were stacked. She put her gloves back on and retrieved an appropriate Dewar from the shelf to keep the object in. The generator had to be kept in liquid nitrogen to be transported and so it was, according to Deiter, already packed. All she needed to do was place it into the Dewar with tongs and seal the thing before taking it to them.
She opened every container one after the other until she found the container marked “Prototype — Vril 243.” Using the tongs as instructed, she placed it in the vacuumed flask and locked it tightly. Just before she closed the large, heavy door, she scanned the other tubes and flasks, of which one, in particular, caught her eye.
A loud bang ensued from the tunnel, and soon afterward a rustling and tumult came from beyond the machine room where she could not see, in reaction to the first din. Nina’s heart stopped. She listened, feeling a hot spurt of adrenaline fill her as the thunderous sound floated through the vents and appeared to originate from the very tunnel she had come from. A vile marked “LOX” drew her attention, because it was far greater in size than the others, but there was no time to scrutinize the many different compounds stored in the freezer. Nina had to hide from whatever was causing the dreaded commotion, whatever had come to see what had disturbed its slumber.
She scuttled with the flask safely tucked against her chest, taking care not to shake or agitate the container in any way. The contents were deadly if inhaled and even more hazardous when spilled and she was not about to tempt fate. It was enough that she had to bear the overwhelming pressure of the chore that was forced on her. Having her skin or appendages break off like brittle porcelain protrusions would be no fun at all.
Nina made for the tunnel, electing to go back in the direction of the noise rather than to wait to be discovered by whatever was reacting to said noise from the other side of the machine room. Back into the hellish, narrow tube of rock she crept, flask to her side held above the ground by her right hand. She crawled on her knees with only her left hand to hold up her torso, scampering far more quickly than when she came from the other side.
There was no time to worry about the space, about her sore limbs, her racing heart, or her inept lung capacity under the stress of her phobia. Now she had to get out to the men who were probably going to kill her, just to get away from whatever breed of demon was pursuing her trail. It was a lose-lose situation for Dr. Nina Gould and she lamented the awful way in which she was to meet her end. There was no glory in dying in a godforsaken tunnel under the ice.
What if I get to the other side and they really closed me in? Oh, God, please don’t let them wall me into this hell. Please. Please, her thoughts mingled with logic and terror. She had abandoned the lamp and decided to make her way back in the dark. Not only would the lit object light her whereabouts for anyone to locate her, but it would be in the way of her handling the flask. She could eventually see the shadows play at the entrance where she came in, but it brought her no relief to know that she was probably crawling toward her end. But behind Nina a deep rumble was born, so intense that she could feel it vibrate though the cavern floor under her palm.
Whatever it was, was furious and powerful. Claps like gunshots compelled her to bend down even lower as she hurried, but Nina heard the claps turn into screeches. Like abhorrent bats they screeched from behind her in the dark tunnel and Nina heard her wheezing turn to terrified gasps before the tears came again. For all the dangerous places she had ever been and all the terrible things she had had to endure in her life, this was by far the most horrifying terror she had ever suffered. Crying violently for her very life, Nina raced to get out of the hole to the shadows that waited ahead.