Deadly Passion, an Epiphany (4 page)

“Where to?”

“Orientation, idiot, and Medicine Man. All new arrivals go through orientation.”

Frustrated, angry, Mark followed John. The man ushered him through a rough, wooden door. “There ya go.” To Mark’s surprise, the room was something he would have thought to see in a science fiction movie. Sterile, white, clean, it was the complete opposite of what was on the other side of the door.

“Remove your clothing and step into the cubicle,” a voice vibrated through the room.

Mark managed to peel some of the tattered shreds off his body, groaning as skin came off at the same time, and walked to the far side of the room, where he saw a glass door. He opened it and stood inside what looked like an oversized shower but there were no taps and no showerhead. While he was wondering what to do next, suddenly jets came out of nowhere and cleansed him from head to toe. He expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. To his amazement, burned scraps of clothing and skin slid off his body easily. After the water turned off, a warm breeze dried him. A shelf slid noiselessly out of the wall. On it was a small pile of clothing. Astonished at his healed hands, his skin back to normal, he dressed. The pants and shirt fit perfectly as if made for him.

The voice again.

“Please enter through the next door for further instructions. You will see Medicine Man to attend to your head wound after your session with the Director is completed.”

Mark opened the door on the other side and stepped into another sterile room. One lonely chair stood in its center. The walls were white. He saw nothing else. After he sat on the chair, the light dimmed and a screen appeared out of nowhere.

A deep, male voice spoke. “Mark Samuel Engler, listen carefully.”

“I’m listening. But I want answers.”

“Your application was approved. You will now serve the Director until your term is completed.”

“Application? I didn’t apply for anything. I’ve got a great job. What Director? Who the fuck are you? Serve who? Fuck you! Let me out of here!” He tried to stand up, but it was as if the chair had glue on it.

“Remain seated and calm and listen to the presentation.”

He had no choice except to sit on the chair and watch the screens. The images flashed by but he paid little attention. They were mainly of the mines, miners at work and some of the equipment and safety features.

It was finally over. The last words the voice spoke were, “You are assigned to shaft fourteen.”

Great. They expect me to work in a mineshaft
?

“Before leaving this facility, Medicine Man will attend to your head injury.”

Mark stood, the chair finally releasing him. A panel slid open to reveal a corridor. He walked down it.

“Please enter Medicine Man’s office.”

Mark saw another panel open and faced a room with what looked like a lot of medical equipment, but unlike anything he’d ever seen in a hospital or doctor’s office. In its center stood a gurney. There was no one in the room. He waited impatiently, his head consistently doing a drum roll.

“Please lie down,” a soft female voice told him. Mark glanced around, but he was still alone. He lay on the gurney. No sooner had he done so than a machine slid toward him, a robotic arm appearing from it. The arm placed what looked like some kind of translucent helmet on his head. A warmth emanated from it and he heard a faint buzzing.
Some kind of x-ray contraption?

“You had a skull fracture. It is now healed, as is the laceration on your head. Your hair will grow in time. You may leave now and join your crew.”

The arm took the helmet off and retracted into the machine, which in turn slid silently into a wall.

Mark gingerly felt his head. Bald, a completely smooth skull, but he felt no injuries and the hammer had disappeared. He felt normal.
Well, normal? Is anything about this normal
?

A partition opened and he stood in a corridor. Not knowing what else to do and since there were no further instructions, he decided to follow the arrows on the wall.
So Medicine Man is a machine. Interesting. Space age medicine and robotic machinery that provides instant healing. How come I’ve never heard about any of this stuff? And where the hell am I, anyway? It looks like some really old mine. How did I get here?

He came to the end of the corridor and faced what looked like just a blank white wall. He was just about to turn around when the wall slid open to reveal a cruddy old wooden door. Mark grasped the rusty handle, pushed, and after walking through it, saw he was back in the mine, but not in the same location as before. A narrow rail track ran down the tunnel. Mark waited, not knowing what to do, until a rumble sounded and an ore car approached. A miner stood on it and motioned Mark to join him. There wasn’t much room on the metal ledge. He held on to the edge of the car tight as it proceeded down the tunnel. Here and there they passed miners at work wearing a dim light strapped to their heads. Mark shook his head, trying to make sense out of it all. He’d stepped from an ancient mine into some kind of futuristic miracle hospital, to leave it again and find himself back in the mine.

The tunnel ended and they entered a large cavern. The car continued on across what looked like a rickety old bridge and Mark held his breath, expecting it to collapse any second. He breathed again when they reached the other side. The car stopped.

“There’s shaft fourteen. Report to Bob,” the miner told him.

Mark stepped off the cart and approached the square entrance supported by old wooden posts. It was dark in the tunnel. Here and there a dim light glowed from oil lamps and some torches that flickered and sent eerie shadows over the walls and ceiling. He headed for the nearest light and saw several men standing in a group, talking. “Is there someone here called Bob?” he asked loud enough so they could hear.

“I’m Bob. I gather you’re the new arrival.”

“So I was told. I’d like some answers. Where is this place? How did I get here?”

“Same way we all came to the Gehenna Goldmine. Looking to get rich.”

“Who is this Director everyone keeps mentioning?”

Soft laughter from the men. “Do your work and hope you’ll never have to come face to face with him.”

“Let me out of this fucking nightmare. Go away. None of this is real.”

Bob laughed sarcastically.

“Leave the man alone,” a female voice said loudly.

Mark looked at the newcomer who’d joined the men. Long, flaming red hair was pulled back into a ponytail, keen blue eyes, and she looked to be in her mid twenties.

“Come with me,” she told Mark. “I’ll show you the ropes.”
So there are women in this place after all.

“How long have you been here?” Mark asked.

“My name’s Carol Johnson. I haven’t a clue how long I’ve been in this godforsaken place.”

“Did you come here voluntarily?”

“Supposedly. I don’t remember signing up. Why the hell would I leave my family?”

“You have a family?”

“Yup. Two boys, a girl, and the sweetest husband in the world.”

“So why are you here?”

“Cliché, but that’s the million dollar question around here. None of us know how we got here. Kidnapped. That’s my answer.”

“I was in a nightclub. I’d just proposed to my soul mate when there was a huge explosion. I was hurt, on fire. I remember hearing her calling my name, caught a glimpse of her, before I blacked out. Terrorists? This place is run by the mafia or some mundane outfit? They kidnap people to work this mine? What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Picking up my little girl from ballet lessons. We had to stop at the grocery store to pick up some things for dinner.”

“Where’s your little girl?”

“I don’t know.”

Mark saw Carol’s eyes fill and quickly changed the subject. “Is there no escape? Has anyone tried?”

“Oh yes. They’re either killed or punished horribly if caught.”

“Has anyone succeeded at all?”

“Not that I know of. You’ve got to be real careful. Workers tend to disappear without explanation around here. Don’t ask questions. You’re safe with me, so don’t worry. I’ll never tell. What year is it?”

“Two thousand fourteen.”

“Oh my God! You’ve got to be kidding me. I’ve been here thirty-four years?”

“Carol, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, or were you when you arrived here?”

“I was thirty. Means I’m almost a senior now.”

“You hardly look like a senior. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere. Haven’t seen a mirror in all the time I’ve been here.”

This time tears did flow freely down her cheeks, causing stripes on her sooty face.

“I’m sorry. My little girl was four. Means she’s thirty-eight now and I never saw her grow up, graduate, or go to college. She might be married with little ones of her own. Damn, I’m most probably a grandmother. The two boys were eight. Twins.” She swiped at the tears angrily. “We’re here. I’ll show you what to do. Best not to talk around here. Too many untrustworthy ears.”

Mark saw several men hard at work. They didn’t take any notice of Carol or him. The next hour Carol spent teaching him, until a loud whistle sounded. “What’s that for?”

“Shift change. New crews are taking over. We go to dinner and then to your dormitory.”

“Dormitory?”

“Yes. At dinner there’ll be an envelope beside your plate containing your schedule and the dorm they assigned you.”

“Above ground?”

“My dear, I haven’t been above ground since I got here.”

“Don’t people get sick from lack of fresh air and sunlight?”

“No. We’re fed enough vitamins and there’s artificial sunlight in some of the recreational rooms. You’re allowed free time until lights out.”

Mark chuckled. “And when might that be?”

“Nine. Wake up is at five, and we report for work at six.”

“It sounds like jail. Not that I know anything about jails, but it sure as hell seems like it. What kind of recreational activities are here?” he asked while following her through tunnels, then finally arriving at a lift. He stepped in after her. It was jammed full of workers.

“Sssh,” she said, a finger to her lips.

The lift rose slowly. It sounded old, rickety, and it was noisy as it climbed up the chains. They came to double wooden doors. On each side stood a bucket of water. Each worker rinsed their hands before entering through the doors. Mark had no idea what to expect behind them. Carol walked in ahead of him and he gazed at a huge room with long tables in neat rows. Many workers were already seated. He noticed a mixture of women and men. So the first man he’d met was wrong that there were no women here. Maybe he’d meant there were no women working in his area.

“This would be your table,” Carol said. “See the little red flag on that chair? I’m at the table behind you.”

Mark sat and counted tables so that he’d remember his. He counted twenty people on each side of his table. He was shocked. The hall would seat a thousand if not more. A bowl stood on the table with a spoon next to it. He picked up the envelope next to his bowl and opened it. As Carol had told him, it had a work schedule on it and a dorm number. There was also a map included.

Women and men carrying large trays filled with buns appeared, followed by carts with huge steaming pots. The servers ladled what looked like stew into the bowls. It didn’t smell unpleasant. When Mark’s bowl was filled, he realized he was hungry. There was no pepper and salt and no butter for the buns. He followed the others’ example and dipped his bun in the gravy of the stew. It was quite tasty and contained a lot of vegetables, no meat that he could see. No one talked. Mark ate the last of his stew and looked at the people across from him. They were men of various ages. Servers came around to pick up the empty bowls and placed two pieces of fruit before each person, an apple and a banana. Quite a few put the fruit in their pockets and left the table. Mark looked behind him and saw Carol get up. He quickly put the fruit in his pocket and hurried to join her. She was at least one friendly face and someone he could talk to.

“That didn’t taste bad, but I felt like a fucking inmate,” he said softly.

“In a sense, isn’t that what we are? Don’t talk now,” she warned.

They arrived in what he gathered was a recreational room because several people were playing cards at small tables. “No computers or TV?”

“No TV or radio. Computers? Cards, dice, games, a few books, that’s about it.”

“Most households now have a computer or two. There’s a quiet corner.” Mark headed for the empty table and chairs. He looked at Carol after she joined him with two steaming mugs of tea. “So how do we get out of this place,” he asked softly.

Carol glanced around the room and leaned toward him. “Told you. It’s not possible. Not an option for me. I want to live, even if it’s in this hellish place.”

“When I first got here, they said I’d put in some kind of application and I’d be here until my term was completed. I didn’t apply for anything so it’s all news to me, but let’s say I did. You did, so what kind of term are they talking about? If you’ve been here for that many years, did you sign up for life?”

“I didn’t apply for anything either. I once tried, asking to see the paperwork, and was punished for asking too many questions.”

“How?”

“They locked me up in a tiny dark room for what seemed like forever. All I got to eat was bread and some water.”

“Good God. I’m going to find a way out of here, even if it kills me. I need to find out what happened to Megan and the others. Maybe they’re not even alive. That explosion was fierce. I saw body parts flying everywhere.”

“Carol! Who’s your new friend?”

Several women and two men pulled up chairs and tables and joined them. Carol did the introductions. One woman, Sally, looked in her mid-fifties, another was a sweet looking little grandmother. He couldn’t imagine her working in the mine. He guessed Carol saw his expression.

“Granny works in the kitchen, Mark. Anyone over age fifty-five is given easier assignments.”

Mark nodded. “I was wondering.” Then there were Janet and Molly, both attractive young women seemingly in their early twenties. The two men, Bruce and Jack, were in their mid-forties, he guessed. “You’ll need to be patient with me. I’m terrible at remembering names.”