The Levitating Village
Chapter Twelve - The Taphenauts
The air was close, musty almost. Odours of long forgotten passages in long forgotten houses permeated my nose. With each breath, the air seemed to get closer, but also hollow and immediate in each intake and exhalation. I sensed something solid above me. There was only up or dead. I tested the solid thing above me. It gave, but didn’t lift. Given time I think I could have worked it off. I heard a crash somewhere out in the abyss I couldn’t see. I then felt a gust of air as the oxygen thundered into my confined prison. I saw in the murky darkness, the face of Dick Felsch. Dick helped me climb out. It was a large metal box. There seemed to have been two smaller but heavy boxes placed on the top.
“You alright?” asked Dick, concerned.
I tested my limbs, “I think so, but now I’ve got air in my lungs I can suddenly feel a lot of pain everywhere.”
Dick rubbed the back of his neck, “Did you see who did it? Knocked us out, I mean?”
“Not a clue.” I said, “But I’ve got a splitting headache to prove it.”
“Not that it matters. You seen that?” Dick pointed to a Biohazard sign.
I kind of had to ask the obvious question, “What does it mean, do you think?”
Dick shrugged, “Either hazardous material was down here, or it still is. One way or another, I’m guessing it’s not a good place to hang out. Can you walk? Good. I think I’ve found a way out.”
“What the Hell were we knocked out for? And how did they know where we would be?”
“Beats me.” said Dick, “All I know is we’ve got to get out of here. It’s too dangerous.”
“Agreed.” I agreed.
“I took a cursory look around our immediate area before I worked out which box you were in and got you out. There are a few other rooms with similar boxes in them and a thick and very solid metal door at the end of the corridor. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.”
“Is it rusted?”
“No. It looks quite well looked after. The bunkers of that time - built to last, not to rust.”
I rubbed my head, “So, how do we get out?”
Within twenty minutes I was waist deep in another vent. This marked the fifth so far. Each time I would crawl through and open the door from the other side. I was beginning to think I was a trained monkey. After one other door, we came to a set of stairs. Leading up. They started grey and dull, but as we traversed higher, they became cleaner, well used and painted. There were lines of varying colours leading out into a complex of further tunnels. Squared off and grey painted walls all identical, doors identical and missing their descriptions or contents. Without knowing what each coloured line represented, we would easily get lost.
It had to be said, “We need some kind of map. We need to know what these coloured lines translate to. They could lead us out, in theory. Okay, so let’s follow a coloured line and see where it ends up.”
Dick took the green line and moved off without discussion down the corridor to our immediate right. The coloured lines intersected each other occasionally, some to complete dead ends, some to rooms that were locked and my monkey skills were called for once more.
We eventually arrived at a place where there were a number of filing cabinets.
“What’s all that?” asked Dick, “Looks recently accessed. Anything stand out?”
“Just a bunch of notes.” I advised.
“Hmm.”
I looked to Dick, who was rubbing his chin in consternation. “Really. Quite boring actually. Besides, I can’t read the shorthand.” I said.
“And you an office clerk?” chuckled Dick.
Had I ever told him what my job was? Hell if I know.
We eventually come out into a large room with boxes and old but still functional science consoles. The room was quite dark with a source of low light coming from emergency lighting. There was a cabinet in the room that was unlocked and the drawers moved easily. I saw headings for things like Medical Records by patient number and Requisition Orders obviously to be taken from the store rooms. Objects were labelled by their room allocation. There was also experimental notes. Then, surprise surprise, I was knocked out from behind as I looked through the discarded notes. I dropped to my knees. There was blackness again.
#
I woke to blackness. Except this time my eyes were closed. I sensed a sharp light on my face and I heard voices, one of which I recognised. The other was Dick.
I couldn’t move. All my muscles refused to follow synaptic orders. I slowly opened my eyes. I knew if they were going to do something to me, I’d rather see it coming. My eyes stung in the strong light, but I persevered. I could just about see through a watery haze.
Marshall and Dick seemed to be in the middle of a conversation. “I suppose you had no choice, but I wanted it to be a little easier than this. Never mind. We go ahead anyway.” said Marshall.
“I know Dad. But he’s here now.” said Dick. Wait, Dad?
Marshall continued, “And you didn’t find out what it was?”
“No, sorry.” said Dick, “He’s not very forthcoming. Quite an inward man, really.”
“Does he know?” asked Marshall conspiratorially.
“I don’t think so. If he does, it’s deeply hidden.” answered Dick.
Marshall took a deep cleansing breath, “Okay, well, get the Professor down here. We start in ten.”
I was strapped to a table with wires attached to me in several key places. The table was also surrounded by old electronic equipment from around the 1940’s. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I roused some time later.
I was confronted by an ugly version of Dick’s face, “I will have what I’m entitled to. You will give it up, Douglas my boy. Trent knew about you. Shame he had to go. But it was you all along, Douglas. It was you who was destined to return. Just sit back and relax. You’ll tell me all in good time.”
“Flubbel. Flubbel mipsopl. Coblish merbble berbble.” was literally all I could add.
#
I awoke and I was still strapped down.
“Professor Bradburn! Do take a seat next to the patient.” mewed a dressed up Marshall, ready for a dirty operation.
The Professor was of slightly above average height, but the stature he adopted, the thin wiry frame and the strong, bold yet cracked face of experience made him appear nearly seven feet tall. He was dressed from many years of academia; the browns, the muted colours, the corduroy and the patches - all said Professor. And with an air of authority only ascribed to men of great learning and little or no social skills outside the University it was cryogenically frozen into.
“This is too dangerous, William.” said Bradburn, “It can’t be turned up any further, or his brain will be irrevocably damaged.”
Marshall shrugged, “I don’t care about that, Professor. Just keep him alive long enough to reveal its location. You see, Douglas, I want what this Village stole from me. I learned it from my wife, the existence of it. Yes, I was married once, and she bore me Richard here, but I soon learned of her ancestor’s treachery. Oh, she’s locked in a room in the Country Club right now. Quite mad. But you see, I’m loyal. Loyal to my marriage vows, loyal to my ancestors. Loyal to the Village. Not the people, you understand. They can burn. Loyal to what was once in my family’s possession and was stolen by her ancestors. Well, all of the Villager’s ancestors really. You see, Lower Upton should be mine hereditarily. That was taken from me many hundreds of years before I was born. When the plague struck. See, the people of this Village back then tried to eradicate any memory of my family and buried all the things that belonged to us by right. In fact, it was an ancestor of yours, Douglas, my boy. It was they that held the secret of its hiding place. It would be worth a fortune! Just the land rights alone for property building on the Village would be in the millions! And your family stole it away from me. Now I will have it back. Begin the process, Professor.”
Bradburn put a gentle hand on my shoulder and whispered the words, “I’m sorry, my boy.”
I nodded and rasped, “I understand.”
#
I was in a green lush field of dew covered grass. Daisies carpeted random patches in its white and yellow glow. And I could feel it. It was soft and gave a little as though it hadn’t been tarnished with human touch. I could smell it too. It was of fresh spring, the slight and distinct odour of pollen. I felt a cool breeze on my cheeks that took me right back to innocent childhood memories. I turned on my heels like a whirling dervish, taking in all that was relayed to me in my mind.
Because that’s where I was. I was under no illusions that this was real. Maybe I was supposed to? The scene changed, transmogrifying to a craggy hilltop, stones thrusting out the ground like shark teeth. A dirt path presented itself, well trod and kicking up ruddy brown dust. The path meandered up the hillside, coming to a large castle of heavy stone. It had a door, large but manageable, with no drawbridge or moat. The crenelations reflected the rocks below, crooked and broken in parts like badly worn teeth, as though the castle had grown from the very bedrock it sat in. There were a few towers, tall and seemingly unnecessarily so. The windows, of which there were many, were like church windows, small panes of thick glazed glass locked together with silvery lead. I walked cautiously to the wooden doors, thick and etched with the harsh weather conditions up here in these endless misty, dark and imposing mountain ranges. They looked and felt like the hull of a well worn and well weathered boat, fighting for its life on a rough see. The sky was dark and thick with heavy black cloud that cast strange shadows from any outcropping vegetation.
I pushed the doors. They were solid. I pushed again, but they didn’t budge. I was starting to get frustrated and a little frightened, but I kept trying. They did nothing, except mock me, the lowly pointless figure that was stranded out in the cold tough weather with no shelter. I heard a voice, distant at first. It drew closer, with each echo. It was calling my name. The world fell away and returned to the room in the bunker, where the Professor was calling my name.
“Douglas! Douglas, my boy!”
“Where was it buried?” Marshall was insistent.
“Mhmm….” I croaked.
“He can’t stay down there that long!” said Bradburn, “We nearly lost him. You’ll get nothing at this rate!”
There was a thoughtful pause before Marshall added, “Alright. We start again in an hour.”
Thankful for the rest, I waited until myself and Bradburn were temporarily alone.
“Is she here?” I asked.
“Um, who?” said Bradburn, distracted by the machine and its dials and its operating parts.
“Lana. I thought she might have been kidnapped, like you were, by Marshall.”
“Oh, yes, she’s down here. I haven’t actually seen her. I think William has her locked up somewhere else in the facility.”
“So, you’re Professor Leith Bradburn, then?”
“For my shame, yes.”
“Your associates would be pleased to hear it, if they still had a clear mind between them.”
“Ah, the boys are still here? It’s because of the pact, I guess.”
“Pact?” I asked.
“Yes. We agreed to stay and watch over the Village after I raised it. It really shouldn’t have happened. I was only testing out the Village-wide security fence. It had to be the object down there that amplified and distorted the power of the experiment.” said Bradburn.
“It was you who raised the Village? Wow.”
“It wasn’t on purpose, you realise. But I should have been suspicious when those other experiments changed in nature. Like the Perpetually Dark Alleyway. That was supposed to be some kind of long life torch or something like that. It wasn’t that by the end.”
“But the other inventors are, well, crackers? And you’re remarkably sane. Sorry, that sounded rude. I apologise.” I said.
Bradburn smiled, “Don’t worry, my boy. I take no offence. My friends out there are suffering from the effects of the object. See, when I was kidnapped and brought down here, William’s initial intention was to lower the Village once more. Then he began to change. He took these devices and experiments out of storage, found papers on them. He set me to work on that instead.”
“What is this object then?”
“I don’t know specifically.” said Bradburn, rubbing his head to stimulate memory, “I’ve never actually seen it, but I have read bits and pieces here and there on it. It was intended as some kind of unnatural power, a potential alternative energy source. But it became unstable and began to alter experiments within this facility. It also altered the mental functioning of those exposed to it. I’m pretty sure here we are safe from its most intense energy, hence why my mind is still fairly intact. But out there, in the Village, it’s altering the minds of everyone. I’m sure you’ve noticed the increasingly odd actions of the Villagers? It will get odder still.”
“Is he truly mad, though? I mean, okay, my ancestor buried his families stuff. But how am I supposed to know where that is? It was a very long time ago, and I don’t remember a note alongside the family’s insurance documents that read, ‘At some point a nutty man will ask you where the treasure is. Tell him it’s under the floorboards in the old rickety house’.”
“There is such a thing as hereditary memory, at least in theory. This machine wasn’t intended for that purpose, but it seems to amplify the search. The memories seem to come in visions. The drawback is it cooks the brain. Too much exposure and your brain will turn into overcooked steak. He tried it on his wife. That’s why she’s locked away in a room. A danger to herself and others. He will keep going until he finds the information. I suggest you just accept the vision for what it is and live through whatever your mind throws at you, remaining focused on the question. If you want to retain your mind in any amount, I suggest you move swiftly within the vision.”
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