Oblivion Fall: 02

What lurks beneath the frozen surface

Mark strode cautiously, but purposefully through the tunnels that ran beneath the abandoned power plant, until reaching a doorway located by the rear. A small amount of light leaked out from the slit beneath, flickering faintly with the whimsical quality of open flame. Above him, a soft thrum reverberated through the air sourced from an active boiler, its presence marked by curls of vapour that sunk down through the ceiling as they cooled. It was only when you got this far into the building, deep into its winding corridors and abandoned rooms, that you could know that it was inhabited.

 

Despite its run down appearance it was actually heavily reinforced, insulated from the blistering cold and prying eyes and sensors of the things that prowled in the darkness. He knew what lay beyond to something entirely different from this supposedly abandoned wreck, though he had some reservations about heading inside given the way his trip had turned out. Thinking on it was pointless though, one way or another, he had to return eventually. He took a deep breath before walking through the next doorway, switching off his flashlight with a flick of his thumb as he did so.

 

The sight that greeted him was bizarre by most standards, but Mark figured that if there was anyone else out there they’d be in a similar state. A fire crackled in the center of the cramped room fuelled by several pieces of deadwood; old newspapers from before the Cataclysm; and the pages of what appeared to be several old religious texts. In the corner, two men sat on light mattress, backs to the wall, supported by a makeshift steel frame, while another man and a woman stood talking by a table several meters to the left.

 

All four were clad in body armour of metal and polymer, unarmed, but clearly warriors by anyone’s standards. The wall by the door was lined with shelves that were full of books. A kitchen stove, sink, and a refrigerator in varying states of un-cleanliness lined the far wall. Paper, plastic, china dishes and glass lay piled in the sink and the stove was beaten and dented. In spite of the fire burning steadily in the center of the room, it was still stiflingly cold. Ice coated the dark corners of the room farthest from the fire, and icicles hung down from the edges of the ceiling.

 

At his approach, the four turned to face him. They looked tired, but were otherwise unremarkable and in good health in spite of their sickly pallor. As with many of the people that had survived the Cataclysm, the low levels of sunlight that filtered through from above gave their skin a ghostly white colouration. Clad in his long coat, black boots and leather gloves, Mark looked starkly different from the four. He reached into the pockets of his coat, and pulled out a box of candy bars, some candles, a small box of handgun rounds, and the book. He tossed the objects on the table, where they landed with a dull thud.

 

The tallest of the three men stepped forward, carefully lifting the box of candy bars from the table to examine it. His armour was a dull black that reflected little of the light from the fire. An un-identifiable worn white marking adorned his chest plate, and the sigil of entwined snakes swallowing each other were engraved into his shoulder plates. He was no giant, but he was a well-built man, still appreciably fit given the conditions he had lived through these past twelve years in this hellhole of a city.

 

“I hope this isn’t everything, ‘cause this won’t last more than a day.” The tall man said, a look of concern creating dark creases on his angular, worn face. He casually spread out the things Mark had gathered across the table to take a better look at them, before snorting dismissively at the small scattering.

 

“Don’t say it like it’s my fault Fredrick. You know it’s hard to find any sort of supplies out there these days.” Mark replied, reaching in to the box and removing a candy bar. It was hard work heading out into the cold gloom, and he hadn’t eaten in hours.

 

“We’re barely scraping by on what we have as it is. The cardboard rations we’re living off of won’t last us long, we’re gonna need more than what you have here.” Fredrick responded, frowning slightly.

 

Mark was exasperated by the other man’s reaction, “Look, we’ve been stuck here for the past twelve years without evac, we’re all starving here. If there was more out there to be found I’d be glad to bring it back but as it is this is the best I’ve got. You being annoyed at me isn’t going to change anything, if you want me to go back out there and take another look you can come with me.”

 

Fredrick reached into the box for a candy bar of his own, “You talk as though evac might actually come eventually. They dropped six f*****g nukes here, they’re not coming back for us.”

 

The second man, average in height with fair brown hair frowned ever so slightly, the expression just barely visible on his otherwise impassive face. “There’s no need to put it so bleakly Fredrick, there is still some chance somebody might swing around eventually if we can stay alive long enough.”

 

That had Fredrick letting out a bitter laugh, “Yeah right, don’t kid yourself Darren.”

 

Darren shrugged, the lightly built man apparently unaffected by Fredrick’s behaviour. Mark was altogether unsurprised by either of the two’s reactions, they’d been stuck here together for twelve years now, it was to be expected that Darren wouldn’t mind Fredrick’s harsh remark. The stable marksman had always been even tempered and tolerant of Fredrick’s slights, something Mark had never quite been able to grasp, but had always respected.

 

“Hey, at least the squad’s still all here, that’s more than we can say for the rest of the 22^nd.” The woman picked up the book and casually flipped through it. She was smaller than the rest of them, a compact package of muscle and armour but Mark knew she could hold her own in a fight. Susan was the squad vanguard, heading the front of the pack spearheading the formation. As long as they had her back, she always led the way into the unknown without fear, her courage had gotten them through many a troubling situation. “You collecting books now Mark? Not quite sure I agree with adding this sort of fibre to our diets.”

 

“I would hardly label our situation as ‘all here’ given we’re all that’s left of twenty four.” Fredrick growled.

 

Jack laughed, ever flippant, nothing ever seemed to really get the big man down. No matter how bleak the situation seemed Jack could always get you smiling. The old soldier was probably Fredrick’s best friend, he was probably also the only one who would put up with him most of the time. “We sure as hell are, don’t be such a stiff Fred, we’re not dead yet.”

 

Fredrick scowled but fell silent, taking a bite out of his chocolate bar, annoyance painted across his face. “Whatever, what’s the situation on the perimeter, are the guns all clear of ice?”

 

Over the years they had renovated the building with scraps of metal they had picked up around the place, reinforcing the internal structure and armouring all of the windows. The city floor crawled with war machines and it wasn’t always possible to mask the fact that they were living down here. Combat with the robots was a real and constant thing to consider. The nuclear winter meant that there was also the threat of snow and ice damaging their equipment. Though the city had originally been a wet, rainy place, it had almost never gotten cold enough to snow, and because of that the original infrastructure had never been designed to withstand freezing conditions for such extended periods of time. Usually, the more pressing of the two concerns were the machines, so maintaining the defenses took top priority.

 

Susan shook the box of ammunition letting the rounds spill out onto the tabletop, a gesture that spoke volumes as to how frequently they handled such things. The high explosive rounds were sensitive and liable to go off if mishandled. “We’re going to need more rounds than this if we’re going to keep the compound safe.” She brushed a hand through her dark hair; once it’d been a clean brown, but now it was tangled and matted from lack of care, with streaks of pale amber as a result of its poor condition.

 

“What do we have left?” Mark asked, aware that running out of ammunition was a death sentence.

 

“A crate of mag’s for the rifles, couple of grenades, a box of 9mm and several boxes of the .45s.”

 

“Five rounds left on the 35mm.” Darren added, referring to the heaviest weapon in the group’s inventory, an old 35mm anti-material rifle mounted on the roof meant to take on armoured vehicles and war machines.

 

“And the barricades?”

 

Susan generally handled matters regarding security of the compound, having been the one to pick out the spot in the first place. “They looked alright last I checked, but like everything these days, they have to be inspected consta--“

 

She was cut off by a thunderous explosion which rocked the building and sent a rain of debris falling upon the four companions until finally, with a shriek and a groan of twisting metal the roof collapsed.

---

 

The Underground was the name given to the endless maze of pipes that snaked through the shadowy passageways beneath the city. In places, the corridors were well lit, leading to small chambers heated by the pipes surrounding them. For the most part though, the Underground was a dark desolate area, patrolled by things that slid and crawled, hiding from the light. Once, these service tunnels and chambers had housed the plumbing and power plants to provide energy for the ruined infrastructure which was no longer intact above. Now they served as the basis for a city beneath the earth, a haven with its own organization and structure, safe from the machine menace above.

 

The inhabitants of the vast Underground were sparse and secretive, scattered throughout the tangled network of tunnels. Despite the destruction wrought during the Cataclysm, many of the pipelines that ran along these tunnels remained intact. Some of these still contained the precious cargoes they once circulated through the city, and a few were still transporting heated water throughout the city. For the most part, this was an isolated world, detached from the rest of reality. There were several select places though, located throughout the rest of the city where gaping holes had opened up through the city floor, giving access to the Underground from the surface. Apart from these there were only a couple of passageways that could be found deep within several abandoned power and water treatment plants which gave access to the tunnels below.

 

Eric slid nimbly through a tangle of pipes into a neighbouring passage, navigating the twisting maze with the confidence that could only come from a life amongst the mess. He was thin, lanky almost, not very tall, and despite the bitter cold that permeated throughout the pipe system, clothed only in a thin, tan coloured jacket. A crisp number emblazoned his left cheek, ‘174’ tattooed in crisp black. He disdained the use of a gun, instead carrying only a long knife. His path was lit by the antiquated gas lantern he held which illuminated him and his surroundings, revealing the dusty floor and corroded pipes reflecting coppery light back onto his sandy blond hair. Eric walked through the passageway in silence, his padded shoes muffling the sound of his footsteps. He kept on walking until eventually he reached the end of the passage way. A set of dull grey steel doors stood in the way. To their right was a keypad, and above that there was the Alphanumeric designation “A14” in bold black paint.

 

Setting down the lamp, he pulled out a sheet of paper; it was a map, dotted with small boxes, representing settlements and entryways into the Underground. Scattered throughout the crinkled sheet of paper were black rectangles representing doors just like this one. Each one of these doors was labeled similarly to this one, a letter followed by a number, and as he bent down, he took out a pen and carefully marked the new door on the map. Satisfied that the new marking was legible, he folded up the map and carefully placed it back into the pocket of his jacket. He was a Mapper, an administrator, explorer and scout of sorts. He had been trained to rediscover these old abandoned passageways so as to continue the Underground’s efforts for expansion. He was young and relatively new to the job, but still, he was talented and one of the best of the select few Mappers out there. Going around exploring these tunnels was just normal everyday business to him, there was nothing special or unique about it at all. That though, was about to change.

 

He furled up the map and returned it to his bag which he swung back onto his back and resumed his journey down the passageway, determined to get in a couple hundred more meters before he had to turn back and head for the barracks. He’d been active out here in the border territories for almost seven hours now, but he didn’t want to let himself stop. This duty had been entrusted to only him and his fellows, no one else could do this for the populace. They were a small but growing population, survivors all of them, but most had been civilian workers in the city so they lacked the manpower and training for a proper security force. Their primary defense against any potential offensive would be the doors, and only the Mappers really had the resources and knowhow to get to all of them.

 

A sudden crash had Eric stumbling, grasping at the pipes in an attempt to maintain his balance, the tunnel quaking beneath his feet as the sound of screeching metal and falling rock echoed all around him. He cursed as the lamp in his hand shattered against a pipe on the wall, the broken shards scattering over his hand and onto the floor in a sparking storm before he was plunged into darkness. In the pitch black he strained his ears as the crashing continued, trying to triangulate the source as he brought up his memory of the layout of tunnels.

Approximating where he thought it should have come from as the din finally died down, the Mapper began the slow process of walking through the darkness as his eyes to adjust to the dim tunnel interior. He thought for a moment about turning back, to leave the investigation to someone else and just find out what had happened when the reports eventually came in, but that wasn’t like him. Perhaps when he had been in training he had let Sheryl lead the way, but that was in the past now. Like her, he had graduated into a full Mapper, and if he was going to continue to function as an independent unit then he needed to have the initiative to check this out himself. Pushing forwards into the growing darkness, he slowly began to pick up the pace as his eyes finally adjusted to the gloom, determined to find out just what had happened.

---

 

The explosion threw Claire clear of the cable, sending her plummeting towards the earth. Shards of ice flung up by the destruction glittered in the air around her, the razor sharp slivers whorling in a deadly storm.  Transfixed, she drifted in free fall, wind whipping past her face until the sharp whine of an Ion blast whipping by her head brought her back to reality. The two Stalkers tumbled below her, struggling to get a fix with their weapons while the girl desperately searched for a way to somehow survive.

 

She was accelerating quickly and though she was still several hundred meters from the ground she knew that if she did not find some way to slow her descent, she would end up as a bloody smear on the city floor. The icy cables of lower levels formed a blurred tunnel around her. If she collided with any one of them at her current speed, the shock of striking the cable would shatter every bone in her body. She was still looking for an out to her situation, eyes flitting all around her when something heavy slammed into her pack, sending her veering to the side before anchoring her to into a nearby cable with the sharp crack as something plunged through the thick coating of ice.

 

It occurred to her that what had just happened had probably saved her life. The thought that she had also come very close to being plastered into one of the cables at an unpleasantly high velocity also crossed her mind, whoever had done this was very good at shooting. Now dusted with a fine layer of ice particles, Claire risked a glance downwards, almost immediately regretting her decision. She was still hundreds of meters off the ground and she had a disturbingly clear image of the ground far below her as the wind died down for just long enough for her to peer through the storm.

 

It was strange that she could see so far so clearly, but other more pressing matters occupied the forefront of her mind. She hung uncomfortably from the side of an inactive power cable, the only thing keeping her aloft the two straps of her pack which were digging into her armpits. A stout metal barb about a foot long had slashed its way into her bag and pinned her to the cable. When she risked pushing her weight against it a little she found it stuck fast, solid and steady.

 

An explosion reverberated through the air below her buffeting her with turbulence, a thunderous roar which tore through the frigid atmosphere. The two combat robots had impacted the ground. Good riddance, she thought, but that still didn’t give her an answer as to why she was stuck up here now, instead of having turned into a bloody smear on the city floor. A faint vibration shuddered through the cable, faint, but not imperceptible, especially when the slightest movement had her bouncing up and down from her precarious anchor to the cableside. She glanced upwards, straining to get a look behind her as she heard the distinct sound of boots crunching on ice. A gloved hand reached down placing a firm grip on her pack as someone else worked to remove the barb from the ice.

 

She was freed and lifted back onto the cable surface almost casually, she landed unceremoniously on her back struggling for a moment to get her feet back onto the ice before she managed to pull herself up into a slouched sit. Two figures in thick winter gear stood before her, androgynous beneath their hoods and grey-white camouflage jackets.

 

The first, whom Claire identified as the one who had hauled her back up here was hefting a missile launcher, undoubtedly the source of the explosion which had knocked her from the cable; the second, just slightly taller carried a blocky tubular device which Claire guessed was the launch platform for the barb which had been anchoring her earlier. Their faces remained hidden, just barely visible through the blowing snow but Claire thought she saw a glint of something beneath the hood which hinted at something other than normality in the figure carrying the barb launcher.

 

The missile launcher was placed carefully on the ground before a hand reached out to help Claire onto her feet. She took the hand after a moment of pause, taking a second to brush herself off, frowning as her gaze passed over the large gash that had split her pack open, spilling its contents into the abyss below them. The figure pulled its hood down to reveal a man in goggles, his cheeks immediately reddening from the cold of the biting wind.

 

“Sorry about that tumble miss, but we don’t really like Stalkers prowling around our tower.” The man said, sounding just formal enough for Claire to understand that he was amused but trying not to laugh.

 

“Quite the sprinter you are, staying ahead of that Stalker there, although I’d bet you weren’t planning on an escape quite like that.” The other soldier smiled, the expression not quite reaching the one good eye he had that Claire could see. Just what was that over his other eye, some sort of prosthetic?

 

“Towers, what do you mean by that?” Claire forged onwards with the more pressing questions she needed answered, brushing off her discomfort with the strange lens eyed soldier.

 

“You’re not from around here, are you? You didn’t really think that these towers were just empty hollowed out pillars, did you?”

 

“Just look at her gear Jeff. We don’t have our troopers going around in that sort of light equipment, and we never send ours out alone.” The other soldier was most definitely also male, and his left eye beneath his hood was…inorganic, composed of what she guessed to be three to four different lenses. As usual she could register things in minute detail, but she didn’t have time to think about such things right now.

 

“Whatever Mathew, just make sure she’s in one piece, and we’ll head back to the company barracks. The Lieutenant will want to speak with her.”

 

“Company barracks? … I appreciate your help, but I do have somewhere to-,“ The soldier called Jeff cut Claire off as she tried to get a word in between the two’s conversation.

 

“Sorry kid, we have our orders. Intruders are to be brought to the Lieutenant for further questioning. If you come along without struggling, we’ll put in a good word for you.”

 

For a moment, Claire considered taking her chances and running but the slight tilt of the head of the one eyed soldier, Mathew, told her that she wouldn’t get far. Not while he was watching, and the weapon he was holding looked particularly unpleasant. Reluctantly, Claire followed Jeff as he beckoned for her to follow, the other soldier falling into step behind her.

 

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