Straight to Steemit Novel: Sojourn: Chapter 5 - Destination

Preamble

This is the fifth chapter in my straight to Steemit Novel Project.

Past Entries
Chapter 1 - The Road.
Chapter 2 - The Evening Road.
Chapter 3 - The Roadside
Chapter 4 - The Hotel

A new chapter will be added in six days time. The cover image may change from week to week. (No new cover this week!) All images used in this project will be captured by myself as original photographs.

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Chapter 5 - Destination

The van had stopped moving, and this jolted me awake. Violet stirred; and woke more naturally than the last time in the hotel room. There was nothing but silence, which was disrupted by the driver’s door opening at the front of the van. It wasn’t long until the doors swung open and the large man shuffled down the seat, being careful not to bump his head on the roof of the vehicle as he made his way to the open doors.

“We’re here.” Behind the man I could see an iron roller door. It was the biggest one that I had ever seen in my life. It was at least ten metres tall, and five metres wide. The sort of thing you’d imagine seeing in an aircraft hangar or military base. I was not entirely sure which of these two it was, as it is hard to get a sense of scale when you have no point of reference, but a behemoth of a man, and whatever rudimentary trigonometry the brain could perform.

Both men had relaxed their body language. “This is the start of your journey.” It was the short man who spoke, his deep voice booming and echoing in the large, vacant space. “Follow me.”

He seemed very excited about what was about to happen. As I followed, he continued to speak. “My name is Mark. I work for the Department of Planetary Security.” We stopped at a door. There was a barely perceptible LED light glowing behind the wall. He moved his wrist to the light, and it acknowledged his presence by changing to blue. The door’s lock clicked, and it slid away to the side.

There was a long corridor. Polished concrete made up the floor, and there were doors, un-numbered and unlabelled lining the length of the corridor. Each door had a red light beside its handle. The corridor was lit like that of a hospital ward, with harsh globes creating patches of shadow every five metres. We continued down the corridor. Mark continued speaking as he led the way.

“Terrible thing that happened to your vehicle. We were monitoring the location when the raid took place down the road from where you broke down.” The man spoke quickly, attempting to arrive at the point. “You’re here today because we can’t take any risks.”

“The property that was raided was holding individuals that were part of a classified program.”
He stopped at an unmarked door. The light flashed blue. The door opened. The room was small, held a table, a computer terminal, and some paperwork strewn across a desk. “I need to you sign some NDAs, non-disclosure agreements before we move forward.”

Two contracts sat on the table. Violet expressed concern “Do we need lawyers for these?” The contracts had a one page summary on the front, and Violet started to read this out loud. “You agree to… not discuss the contents or operations, existence, or agents of DPS with any persons not covered by the NDA.” That sounded reasonable. “Should you breach the terms of the NDA, DPS will accommodate you in a location where provisions, sustenance and your worldly needs will be fulfilled. … Sounds like prison.”

“We prefer to not call it that.” Mark Smiled.

I read off the other copy of the contract, things seemed to be moving very quickly, but I really wanted to know where they would take us next. Was it a stupid decision? Probably. I signed. Violet signed. We were whisked back down the corridor to another room.

This next room was larger. The rude reporter from yesterday was there, the man known as Malcom Bennet. The man in the plaid shirt was there. Meredith, the tow truck driver was there. It was an odd group of people to be gathered at the one location. “No questions.” The door closed.

Everyone looked at each other blankly. There was definitely questions that hung in the air, unasked, and unanswered.

It only took a moment before a woman’s voice emerged from an unseen speaker. “You are the second group.” Her voice was slightly raspy.
“Malcom Bennett” The reporter’s eyes darted around. “Answer the following:”
“State your age.”
“34” His eyes looked like that of someone much older, glazed with fatigue and concern. For his own wellbeing, most likely.
“State your occupation”
“News Reporter.” His hand moved to his lips and he began to nervously pick at the skin there. It was satisfying to watch him answer questions. What was more satisfying was the fact that he didn’t have a microphone in his hand. His apparent sense of entitlement still hung around him. I still didn’t like the man.
“State your new role”
“Communications Specialist.” He stammered the two words, and it made me really question if the man could communicate at all. What would normally be finely combed and arranged hair looked like it had been used as a mop, and the cleaning solution was his nervous sweat.

“Roger Williams.” It was the man in the plaid shirt. His turn to answer some questions.
“53.” He didn’t let the voice get to ask the first question. He clearly looked as though he had it all figured out, that the questions would be the same for everyone.
“State your occupation”
“Firearms instructor” As he spoke these two words, the wrinkles around his eyes and those in his forehead seemed to deepen and take on a hardened character. His eyes were sharp and alert; he smiled in anticipation of the next question.
“State your new role”
“Medic.” His smile broadened. There was a loud buzzing.
“INCORRECT” the woman’s voice was all of a sudden irrationally angry, and very loud. He laughed, after everyone else in the room was done jumping in shock at the sudden increase in volume. The woman repeated her instructions “State you role.”
“Weapons Specialist.”

My eyes naturally flowed over to Meredith, the psychologist-tow-truck driver I’d become acquainted with earlier. “Meredith Cooper.” She didn’t look up while speaking, eyes cast down to her brown boots. There was a sadness in her eyes, with intricate shadows cast upon her face by the flowing blonde hair that framed her fragile cheekbones.
“State your age”
“27.” She sighed.
“State your occupation”
“Two truck driver and psychology student.”
“What is your new purpose?”
“Analyst. I’m here to hold the…” she looked around, making eye contact with each and everyone in the room for a few desperate seconds. “… team together, evaluate their mental states, and assist with morale.” She did not appear to have a very high level of morale at this very moment. Of all the people in the room, she seemed like the one that was closest to a breakdown.

It appeared that they had been briefed in considerably more depth than Violet and myself, who had just joined the room. What was going on?

“Walter, Violet” The voice paused. “Welcome.” What was my role? “Upon your shoulders rest the most important part of this mission. Walter, you shall be documenting the search.” The search? What are we looking for? “Violet, you will play two roles, chemical analysis; and medic, with your experience, this is required.”

A screen flickered into life on the distant wall. A picture of a high tech door in the middle of a cave appeared on the screen. What makes a door high tech? It was painted grey, made of some sort of metal; and had deep ridges in which there was frosted glass. For some reason, the door had several flashing lights, and had reinforcing built into its very structure, sharp forty-five degree angles and iron mesh. Around this door, rock formations dripped from the ceiling, acting like architectural elements. They looked ancient, and beautiful.

Two armed men, in military apparel stood either side.

“Soon, you will travel to this location.” It was unclear where the location actually was.
“As you can no doubt tell, this location is underground. The door is ours. What is beyond is not. We have encountered creatures beyond the door. They are intelligent, and we want to understand and know more about how they have kept themselves from us all these years.”

Meredith spoke over the voice, “You said we were the second group, what happened to the first?”
The woman’s voice returned, more serious this time. “That is exactly what you are here to find out.”

The room collectively gulped.

A noise stirred from a door on the other side of the room. “It is time.” Behind it, another door slid open. “Enter.”

Roger went first, a slight hobble to his stride. He favoured his left leg, but moved confidently; it looked as though he had a hip problem, most likely spent from years of spending time in a proper shooting stance. The conspiracy theories he had babbled about earlier suddenly seemed incredibly real.

Meredith followed. Her head remained hung low, and her body language shouted dejection. I thought that this may be a clever ploy to make everyone else think she was not coping, so in time; they would think that things aren’t too bad. If this was the case, it was clever, but it would also help to make everyone like Meredith. From the experience, we had in the tow truck with her, she did seem likeable. Time would tell.

I followed after Meredith, with Violet by my side. Violet reached for my hand as we entered the door. “What comes next?” She asked me like I was expected to know. I didn’t know.

The next room had two rows of lockers. They were in the middle of the room, and there was a dividing wall, onto which they were bolted. Three lockers on the left, three lockers on the right. The voice from the speakers returned. “Women to the right, men to the left, the lockers contain your bespoke equipment for this mission.”

Malcom, Roger and I were separated from Violet and Meredith. We could still hear them, the wall only seemed to have a purpose for decency, given the fact that when the lockers swung open, a fresh set of clothing was contained within. “Change.” The voice was un-impatient, but had an undertone of urgency.

The word rang in my ears. Change. Yes, this is a change. Suddenly I’m in the middle of some sort of squad based search and rescue operation in some underground cave. Malcom and Roger were getting changed, and I did the same. Cargo pants, a comfortable, but slightly tight t-shirt, with a hexagonal design. It appeared as though there was some sort of fibre or wire sewn into the very fabric to make the honeycomb pattern throughout the garment. It felt softer than cotton, but much thicker and tougher. It wasn’t any material I had ever worn before.

There was a vest to wear too, with various pockets. The pockets on the vest were filled with useful items. There were provisions such as a flashlight, a knife, and other stuff you’d normally take camping with you. It was something I was unfamiliar with, but I could see Roger smiling, clearly, it was quality stuff.

Finally, there was a belt. The belt that was in my locker was a treasure. It held a full frame digital camera: an expensive, boutique one, at that; memory cards, and enough batteries to last for months. There was also a smaller camera, I recognised it as a thermal imaging camera, and thought that such a device might be useful, not only to document, but to explore. I turned it on, to test it, and inspected the flask attached to the belt, it was cool on the thermal imaging, most likely filled with water.

“I’ve got some great gadgets here!” I was genuinely excited at the prospect of playing with a thermal imaging character. It was something that I had always wanted to do. Roger turned the tone serious. “They haven’t given us this equipment for us to play with. You need to treat this stuff as a tool. Something that can save us, can give us the edge. We can’t wait on some third group to come and rescue us!”

If the voice from the ceiling could smile, it just did. “Thank you, Roger. I am glad you recognise the quality of the equipment we have provided.” Roger had a belt full of ammunition, guns, and all sorts of very tactical looking equipment.

Malcom had changed, and looked like a soldier on his first day of basic training. I probably looked the same. His still dishevelled hair poked out from underneath a helmet; the only thing that was missing was the word “press” and he would have looked like the perfect shell-shocked journalist off to report about the latest war.

I’m sure I looked just as out of place. Roger definitely looked the part. We all had helmets. Mine had a camera on the top. The others didn’t. A door slid open on the other side, and the Violet was the first to appear from the other side of the barrier. I stifled a laugh. She looked the most out of place. It felt as though we were all playing dressups. I don’t think I was taking it too seriously, until I saw all the pouches on her belt. It looks like she was equipped for any sort of injury.

Meredith emerged, and she did not seem to have nearly as much gear as the rest of us. The same basic survival stuff inside the vest, yes; but no real extra goodies. She did have a small backpack on, though, it didn’t look like it would fit much. Just inside the next door, were three backpacks. We would each get one, it seemed.

“Finally, provisions; enough for a week.” The voice in the ceiling seemed to almost come from within my own mind. I looked at Violet wide-eyed, and she nodded. It was clear the acoustics were either designed to give this impression, or the voice was inside all of our heads, all at once.

Roger was the first to pick up a back pack. I grabbed one and handed it to Violet. I made sure to touch her hand as I passed it to her. The human connection, the touch of another; was something I felt would be appropriate in that moment. I could see Violet take a brief, lingering moment of solace from the contact. She smiled at me, from her eyes, but not with her mouth.

A hand on my shoulder. It was Malcom. “Sorry, Walter.” At least he now knows my name. I was doing my job earlier. I don’t mean to be an asshole. Since we could be together for the next seven days, I accepted the man’s apology. “Its okay, but you should say the same to Roger.”

He did. We all had backpacks now. It appeared that we were all set. “Not far to go now.” Beyond the room was a tunnel, bored cleanly into the rock. The illusion of perspective was not required in the tunnel, as it was barely long enough to have yet another door at its end.

As a group, we walked towards the door.