ARES Virus: Arctic Storm (24 page)

“What do you think, Emily?” Brown asks, thinking that both arguments are valid ones.

“I’m tired and hungry and cold. I just want to get out of here. You tested the air with the lighter each time we had to make a choice. What does it say now?” Emily answers.

Without a word, Brown holds the lighter up. The flame stands upright and then bends. Brown isn’t sure if it bends more now than at the beginning of the tunnel, but it certainly appears that way. He knows it could also be his imagination wanting it to tilt more.

“Well, forward, then?” Clarke asks.

“That’s my vote,” Brown responds.

“So, we’re operating under a democracy now?” Clarke asks.

“That’s right. But, my vote counts for four,” Brown replies.

“Figures,” Hayward mutters. Louder, he continues, “Fuck it. Forward it is.”

Brown feels muscles he didn’t know existed shout in protest as he stands, and he knows that he’ll have to call for a longer rest soon. He’s surprised that Emily has held up as long as she has. Maybe being in the dark for so long has altered her senses to the point that she has no idea how long they’ve been at it. For that matter, Brown isn’t sure either, with his watch having taken a nosedive at the slide.

They walk along the stream. Brown’s fear is that they’ll come across a place that forces them to turn back. Even though they’re committed, they won’t have enough light to return. So far, the shelf along the waterway has held out and they haven’t had to swim the frigid waters. If it comes to that, the remaining flashlights and Emily’s cell phone will have priority to be kept dry.

With how the stream wanders back and forth, Brown has lost his sense of direction long ago. The water’s placid surface still shows no movement and he tests it every so often to ensure they are still following an outbound current. There’s nothing to say that there isn’t some hole deep below that it funnels into. If he finds the current suddenly flowing in the opposite direction, that would be the case and they could be heading toward a dead end. Given that he feels they’ve traveled for hours without coming upon a path that they’ve already traveled, he believes that the entire ridgeline may be hollow.

The journey is conducted in silence, each of them wrestling with their thoughts and the deep chill. The only sound is their shuffling footsteps echoing within enclosed rock walls. Having led them into the caverns, Brown feels the great weight of responsibility upon his shoulders. Each turn of the stream brings both hope and despair. Stress builds as they approach each one, lest it reveal an insurmountable blockage around the corner.

As he rounds one such corner, there’s an almost imperceptible glow ahead—not so much a glow as a lessening of the darkness. The beam of light from behind flashes on him and the glow vanishes.

“Come up here and turn off that light,” Brown commands.

With the light out and his eyes adjusting, the faint luminosity reappears on a rock wall where the tunnel bends yet again. Brown stares at it, trying to ascertain whether it’s similar to the glow inside the large cavern or actually emanating from the outside. He’s wary of getting his hopes up, his mind envisioning light pouring through a hole high overhead. The long, cold journey toward the unknown has weighed heavily on his spirits. Of course, it’s not like the events of the past couple of days have contributed anything to lift them.

“Is that…is that…” Clarke begins.

“Don’t get all eager just yet, lass. It might turn out to be nothing,” Brown interrupts.

“But, at least it’s light…and maybe warmth,” Clarke responds.

“There may be at least that,” Brown returns. “Now, turn on the light and let’s go see what we’re dealing with.”

As they reach the corner, the stream bends sharply, nearly doubling back on itself. The waterway then rounds another corner in almost the opposite direction. The radiant light shining on the stone and water increases to where it overshadows the flashlight beam. Ripples form against the rock on both sides of the waterway, indicating an increase in the current. They’re all good signs and Brown’s heart rate elevates, yet he keeps his enthusiasm in check.

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up only to feel the dramatic fall into despair should it turn out not to be an exit. He’s not sure that he can endure that after all they’ve been through. And, if it is an exit, who knows where they’ll come out? Although, at this point, he’ll take just about anything, even if it means that they emerge into gunfire. He just wants out of these caves.

Rounding the second corner, Brown is nearly blinded by a bright strip of light shining from just above the stream. As his eyes adjust, he sees that the water passes through a wide but short gap, the stream nearly rushing at this point. The shelf they’ve been traveling on narrows and ends at the exit. The exit itself looks to be too low to just crawl under.

Just as I feared…a dead end
, Brown thinks, staring at the gap.
So close, yet so far
.

“Can we fit through that?” Hayward asks.

“Perhaps Emily could, but it doesn’t look tall enough for the rest of us,” Brown answers.

“Could we chip away at the rock?” Hayward questions.

“Are you in the habit of just carrying a pickaxe around, cadet? Maybe singing along with your companions as you go to work?”

“Well, no.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“Maybe the water is deeper than it looks?” Clarke comments.

“I was just wondering the same thing,” Brown replies.

Removing his backpack and handing his carbine to Clarke, Brown slides into the water. The depth of the stream surprises him. Inhaling sharply, his heart nearly stops as the cold waters reach his chest. He can almost hear his testicles scream as they retreat into his groin—“retreat” being a kind word for the action they take. It’s more like a high-speed, panic-driven, head-long flight that feels like two bowling balls slamming into a brick wall at warp speed.

The stream shallows quickly as he makes his way toward the exit. Standing shin-deep, the current picks up speed and gurgles around his legs. His delight at the surprising depth vanishes as he stares at the opening, doubting that he’ll be able to squeeze his large frame through.

As he gingerly lies on his back, the water rushes around his body. Reaching out his arms, he pulls himself forward. Brown strains to hold his head above the rushing waters. The stream shallows even more, and all he is aware of is the roaring waters surging past his ears. He hesitates, not wanting to become stuck. There’s enough air space above him, so drowning isn’t a real fear. It’s the thought of being wedged in the opening that gives him pause.

Raising his head to the top of the stone, he pushes again. He feels his chest meet the top of the opening. Exhaling as much as he can, he pushes. The fit is tight as rock presses on him from above and below. The promise of freedom is greater than the fear of becoming wedged. He strains harder, wiggling his chest back and forth, the stream surging all around him. Suddenly, the pressure releases and he pushes out into daylight. He’s free.

The transition into the bright sunlight is blinding. Initially, all Brown is able to see is a whitish yellow glow that slowly transforms itself into the surrounding landscape.

Well, there aren’t any bullets striking my body, so that’s a good thing
, he thinks, adjusting to the light.

Brown finds that he has exited near the foot of the long ridgeline they entered. The stream flows out from the small exit, rushing over stones down the rest of the hill and into a tree line a short distance away. He presumes that it joins with the larger creek where Emily and her friends played. A pall of smoke rises over the shoulder of the hill from where he hears the sound of distant thunder. From the way that the shadows lay long across the ground, he guesses that it’s early morning. It has taken the entire night to traverse the cave.

Glancing up the steep slope, he attempts to gain his bearings on exactly where they are. He places what he observed earlier from the top of the hill next to what he’s seeing now. From all appearances, it seems that they have emerged at a location past the military encampment on top of the hill. They are beyond the inner perimeter.

“If that doesn’t beat all,” he mutters, scanning the rest of his surroundings. “I take back all of my negative thoughts.”

He knows that being outside of the inner cordon doesn’t mean that they’re free from helicopter overflights, but one major obstacle has been hurdled.

You couldn’t have made it easier, though, eh?
Brown thinks, gazing skyward.

Being out in the open increases the chances of being discovered, though. The weight that he held on his shoulders while inside the tunnels transitions to the need to get away from the hill and into the tree line.

“Okay. It’s a tight squeeze, but you can make it. Push the packs through first, then follow. I don’t care how you do it, but you have to keep the phone dry. And, we have to move quickly, so don’t dawdle around making sure your hair is just right,” Brown calls directly into the opening.

Moments later, the packs appear in the flow of water. Snagging each of them, Brown sets them to the side. A head materializes. Brown grabs the attached shoulders and helps Clarke out of the opening. Next is Emily, followed by Hayward.

“Where are we?” Clarke asks, wiping water from her face.

“Unless I miss my guess, we’re a little way past the inner perimeter,” Brown replies.

“That’s rather convenient,” Clarke states.

“Yes it is. Now, where is that phone?” Brown queries.

Hayward hands over a plastic baggie filled with the cell phone, along with finely crumbled remains of some food.

“Where’d you get that?” Brown asks.

“Emily had it in her pack,” Hayward answers.

“They’re from my lunches. I keep forgetting to take them out. My mom gets mad when she finds them,” Emily says, hanging her head.

“Well, I, for one, am glad that you didn’t,” Brown says. “Now, this isn’t happy hour. Grab your packs and let’s go.”

With water dripping from their woolen blankets, they follow the stream and move down the hill. Brown constantly scans the skies and top of the hill for any sign that they’ve been spotted. Of course, he understands that the real danger comes from those things that can’t be easily seen. With armed drones overhead, they won’t know that they’ve been discovered until they’re standing at the Pearly Gates attempting to explain their deeds. Brown knows that his list will be a long one, so he’d like to avoid that for as long as possible.

Brown covers their tracks the best he can. The time that he’d have to spend to completely cover them would have him in the open for too long, but his measures should keep the record of their passage hidden from a casual view.

They reach the trees without having the ground erupt around them. Working their way through the thick brush at the tree line, they enter the woods. The distant sounds of the city being bombarded fade. Several birds leave their perches upon the group’s arrival, winging their way deeper into the woods. Squirrels high overhead signal their displeasure at being intruded upon. Beams of early morning light slant through the trees with insects flitting about within each. When taken singularly, each bug’s movement appears chaotic, yet when looked upon as a whole, it depicts a synchronized dance.

The small stream coming from within the ridge joins with the creek. At the intersection, Brown calls a halt. They’ve been going all night with only a few moments of rest. Sitting against a tree on the embankment, Brown wonders if he’ll be able to get up again. The exhaustion that he’s shoved to the side makes its appearance all at once. Nearby, Emily is lying on the ground, already fast asleep. Hayward and Clarke are almost there as well, each with their heads on their packs.

Brown knows that the two cadets will be out within minutes. Having no idea of whether the troops manning the perimeter are conducting patrols, he’s loath to check out as well. Anyone coming directly across their tracks may not be fooled by his quick attempt to cover them. He adjusts his position against the tree and pulls the cell phone from within the baggie. Turning it on, he watches it for a moment, hoping to see it acquire a signal. The message on the screen—“searching for signal”—doesn’t go away. He turns it off and places it back in the bag, setting it beside him.

Hopefully, we can get outside of the blocked coverage soon
, he thinks, listening to the burbling creek below and staring through the trees.

Waking with a jolt, Brown quickly looks around in a near panic. He doesn’t remember his eyes closing. His last memory is setting the phone down next to him. Thinking that a sound or some other intrusion upon his small world woke him, he carefully scans the area. Nothing moves or has changed, other than the rays of light peeking through the trees. From the different angle of the beams, he guesses that he was out for a few hours. Soft snores emanating from the others alert him that they are still fast asleep.

With his heart rate slowing after the sudden rush of adrenaline, and glad to see that they’re still alone under the cover of the trees, Brown stretches his cramped muscles. His entire body feels as though it has been the subject of some intense hammering project. Considering their position and the fact that the helicopter patrol followed the creek yesterday, he’s surprised to find himself still alive. Or, at least not surrounded. Although it hasn’t been the most pleasant journey ever, and with obstacle after obstacle put in their path, a measure of luck has been thrown their way at all the right moments.