Image courtesy of Stockvault.
Author’s Note: This is the second part of what I’m submitting for my writing group’s next short story compilation. You can read the first revised part here.
Gemma leaned against the tube for support. She looked at the door. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course I’m sure,” said Evan. “Some subroutine deleted most of his last movement. I had to use my awesome skills just to rescue this last bit of info.”
The bolts were loose, like they hadn’t been tightened properly. Someone had gone through this door. Gemma took out her wrench. She said, “Evan, thanks. There’s just some more stuff I have to do down here, and then I’ll give you a call.”
“Hey, wait,” said Evan. “You coming for Founding Day or what?”
“I’ll let you know later. Bye,” said Gemma. Pidgin ended the call. Gemma started working on the bolts.
::Hold on, Gemma. What are you doing?::
“I’m just going to have a look around, Pidgin,” said Gemma. She twisted two bolts free. The door lurched ajar, blowing stale air onto her face. It stank like an old gym, but it was breathable.
:You do not want to do this.:
“Yeah, I do,” said Gemma. Two more bolts came off, and the door swung a few more centimeters open.
:It is dangerous.:
The last two bolts came off, and the door swung up and in on a hinge. “I don’t care,” said Gemma. She threw her wrench in her tool bag and picked up a flashlight. Shining it into the tube, her attention went to the floor. Footprints headed towards the Complex. “He was here, Pidgin.”
::I suppose you’d want to have a look around now.::
“It’s like you read my mind.” Gemma stepped under the door and examined the tube. It was a long corridor, much like the one outside the door. The structure went on further than her light could illuminate.
::Just remember, if something bad happens, it’s all your fault.:: Pidgin’s voice sounded subdued, like she was trying to talk from far off.
Gemma didn’t notice. She traveled twenty meters and found a loose barricade of stacked furniture at the end of the tube. There wasn’t much organization to it. Chairs laid at odd angles over tables and sofas. It looked like someone took an entire common room and threw it in one place.
In the middle of the pile, someone removed a few chairs and a table to make a crude tunnel. Somehow the surrounding pile hadn’t collapsed. There were a bunch of places where her ankle could get caught or she could bump her head. “Too late to back off now,” she said. Gemma took a deep breath and climbed through. She went slow and steady, focused on each step.
Near the end, her foot caught on a chair leg. She fell forward and tumbled into the room beyond. Her light flew from her hand, sliding across an empty corridor. The light went out. She sprawled out on the floor in complete darkness. One of her hands touched something cold and sticky on the floor. Gemma shuddered, wiping her hand on her jumpsuit. “Gross.”
A whirring of environmental fans overhead grabbed Gemma’s attention. Lighting kicked on, the old bulbs giving off a pale blue glow and a rhythmic hum. She was in a large chamber, larger than any out in the living compartments, larger than the common rooms or eating halls. There were stains along the metal walls and floor, like the automated washing system had been turned on but never finished its cleaning cycle. It left a greasy film in many places. The smell of rust and something sweet lingered in the moving air.
“Are you catching this, Pidgin?” said Gemma. No response. “Pidgin?” The name echoed through the empty chamber. Nothing replied. Gemma was alone.
Real solitude didn’t sit well with Gemma, and she considered going back. She got up and stuck her head into the barricade. Dim lights at the far end of the tube flickered like a safety beacon. Between there and where she stood, she’d gone outside the range of the network. Pidgin couldn’t talk to her here.
Then she remembered her light and went to get it. It was next to a faint footprint in sticky residue, headed deeper into the chamber. “Baltus,” she said. Close up, the prints looked about his size. It had to be him. Gemma looked up and saw a circular exit. Beyond, more lights flickered to life. She tested her own and found it still worked. Reassured, she decided she could follow Baltus some more.
Beyond the exit, the chamber continued. Gemma thought of it like a promenade, with wide passages for people to go through without having to make way for others. In this section, she saw small chambers through archways lining the main corridor. A few had furnishings, like smaller rooms where people could sit and talk. The corridor curved off to the left, and when Gemma looked back, she could see that the whole promenade went in a giant circle.
The next section had a large set of stairs leading up to wide archway. Baltus’s footsteps led up to them and disappeared. There wasn’t anything on the steps to indicate he climbed them. There wasn’t anything in the promenade to show he went anywhere else. Gemma went up the steps to see if she could find Baltus’s trail again.
At the archway, Gemma saw another open chamber. It looked bigger than all the dining halls put together. She walked past rows of tables and benches. Unused plates and cups sat in place settings, untouched for years. At the other end, she walked up to a cafeteria counter. Behind the glass were pristine service bowls. On the wall behind the counter, there was a neon sign which read, “Rocket City Grill.” Gemma mouthed the words and said, “Interesting.”
:You need to leave, now.:
Gemma jumped. “Pidgin! Is that you?” She looked around. In the middle of the high ceiling, she caught a red network sphere blink on. “How is this still working?”
:You are in danger. I cannot hold it off for long.:
“What? What do you mean?” Gemma waited for a reply.
The lights in the chamber went out. Behind the counter, the neon sign flickered and buzzed, the red lights going in and out. Gemma took a step back. The neon lights clicked off, and she held her breath.
One by one, four letters came on. First, the “k” in “Rocket.” Second, the “i” in “City.” Finally, the two “l’s” in “Grill.” Gemma saw the word, and her knees went rubbery.
Singular Fiction 