It had been almost three weeks since I'd seen my wife. My daughter, too, for that matter. I could only guess what was going on. It was frustrating beyond belief. If it hadn't been for Adam, I would have sunk into despondency long ago. Yet, he was my life line, my tether to the world outside - a world that daily seemed to be further and further away.
Something big was going on. The machinery we'd only heard a little when we'd first arrived was now a constant hum. One of the guards spoke of CNC machines working away down some unknown corridors, so I guessed that whatever production was going on had been ramped up. Of course, to turn out munitions in the required quantities would take a real manufacturing process and factory. I began to wonder at the extent of this facility...
I was still not free to wander where I liked. I had been effectively banned from the lab after the explanation I'd received from Rick and Janice. Adam and I often walked the corridors together, talking of this and that, but really feeling like rats exploring the boundaries of our cages. Some of the hallways were wider, some were smaller. Some led off doorways, others just met at intersections. Using my own pace as a reference, which I knew to be about five feet, we stepped of a kind of mental map of the compound. These exercises did not give us important or useful information, but it kept us occupied. We even began sketches of what we imagined the compound would look like. It wasn't much, but it was something.
The very large hallway, the warehouse-like space where I'd first seen Janice here, was relatively close by. This was an interesting space because they were using it for vehicle storage. The stage that had been erected for the ceremony was removed, and as I walked around I noticed many different kinds of vehicles, from military-grade Humvees to golf carts. The golf carts I could understand - the extend I had seen of this complex was relatively minor compared to what was the rest of the proverbial iceberg.
I wondered if the folks on the Titanic had as much sense of foreboding danger that I did.
The last time I'd spoken with Janice, it was like speaking to a stranger. She said all the right things, but the light that was in her eyes was maniacal. I asked her about when we could expect to get out and she laughed. "Oh, it's too late for that, Michael. Too late. Once you're in, you'll have to stay in," she'd said. I was too hurt at the time to wonder if she was just referring to our physical incarceration.
Now that I think back on it, she wasn't.
The morning I woke up to the sound of silence. It was so quiet it was disorienting. I reached for the light switch that turned on the lamp on my bedside night stand. In that light, I walked to the door, but hesitated before opening it, the way a firefighter does before opening a door behind which he knows is a raging inferno. I looked down at my bare feet and impulsively yanked the door open.
There was nothing. Dead silence.
The lights blazed on up and down the corridor. The feeling was post-apocalyptic. The absence of sound was utter and complete. Not even a jackbooted footfall to disturb the silence.
I went back in to rouse Adam. Whatever was going on, I didn't want him to be alone. And frankly, I didn't want to be alone, either. He was getting dressed as I went back to my room to find something to wear. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, slid into some socks and laced my old sneakers. Adam and I then looked at each other as he came out of his room.
"What's going on, Dad?"
"Not sure. It's just super quiet. I don't know what's going on or what to expect. But something's different. I don't like it."
We stepped out into the hallway, senses on full alert. Adam had quickly grabbed our sketches on the way out. We had worked out a kind of plan to get ourselves to the main service area, bypassing several known locations where guards were stationed. There were cameras everywhere, but there was nothing we could do about that.
When we had gone about 300 yards from our room, and after having entered into a fairly narrow corridor we knew was seldom used, the power went out. In this small corridor, there was no emergency lighting. From somewhere that felt very far away, we could feel a large engine rumble to life. Emergency lighting came on in the distance in the hallway to which we were headed. Full of apprehension, we continued that direction.
We followed our route, sometimes walking along in darkness, sometimes with the emergency lighting along the floor to guide us. Finally, we began to hear signs of life - voices coming from far away, from what I guessed was the location of the warehouse area. Not knowing any better, I figured that would be the place to head anyway. Perhaps we could get some answers to our questions there. Yet, as we approached the large room, that feeling of apprehension became almost tangible. By unspoken consent, Adam and I both paused before rounding the corner.
"I don't know what we're going to see when we go around that corner. This whole experience has been completely surreal. But whatever happens, stick close to me. Let's not get separated," I said.
Adam nodded. I looked at him, his eyes full of concern and yet determination. He'd certainly grown a lot the past full weeks. I grabbed him around the neck and pulled his head close to mine. Kissing the top of his head, I said, "Let's go."
We stepped out of the corridor into an anthill that had been kicked over.
Something big was going on. The machinery we'd only heard a little when we'd first arrived was now a constant hum. One of the guards spoke of CNC machines working away down some unknown corridors, so I guessed that whatever production was going on had been ramped up. Of course, to turn out munitions in the required quantities would take a real manufacturing process and factory. I began to wonder at the extent of this facility...
I was still not free to wander where I liked. I had been effectively banned from the lab after the explanation I'd received from Rick and Janice. Adam and I often walked the corridors together, talking of this and that, but really feeling like rats exploring the boundaries of our cages. Some of the hallways were wider, some were smaller. Some led off doorways, others just met at intersections. Using my own pace as a reference, which I knew to be about five feet, we stepped of a kind of mental map of the compound. These exercises did not give us important or useful information, but it kept us occupied. We even began sketches of what we imagined the compound would look like. It wasn't much, but it was something.
The very large hallway, the warehouse-like space where I'd first seen Janice here, was relatively close by. This was an interesting space because they were using it for vehicle storage. The stage that had been erected for the ceremony was removed, and as I walked around I noticed many different kinds of vehicles, from military-grade Humvees to golf carts. The golf carts I could understand - the extend I had seen of this complex was relatively minor compared to what was the rest of the proverbial iceberg.
I wondered if the folks on the Titanic had as much sense of foreboding danger that I did.
The last time I'd spoken with Janice, it was like speaking to a stranger. She said all the right things, but the light that was in her eyes was maniacal. I asked her about when we could expect to get out and she laughed. "Oh, it's too late for that, Michael. Too late. Once you're in, you'll have to stay in," she'd said. I was too hurt at the time to wonder if she was just referring to our physical incarceration.
Now that I think back on it, she wasn't.
The morning I woke up to the sound of silence. It was so quiet it was disorienting. I reached for the light switch that turned on the lamp on my bedside night stand. In that light, I walked to the door, but hesitated before opening it, the way a firefighter does before opening a door behind which he knows is a raging inferno. I looked down at my bare feet and impulsively yanked the door open.
There was nothing. Dead silence.
The lights blazed on up and down the corridor. The feeling was post-apocalyptic. The absence of sound was utter and complete. Not even a jackbooted footfall to disturb the silence.
I went back in to rouse Adam. Whatever was going on, I didn't want him to be alone. And frankly, I didn't want to be alone, either. He was getting dressed as I went back to my room to find something to wear. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, slid into some socks and laced my old sneakers. Adam and I then looked at each other as he came out of his room.
"What's going on, Dad?"
"Not sure. It's just super quiet. I don't know what's going on or what to expect. But something's different. I don't like it."
We stepped out into the hallway, senses on full alert. Adam had quickly grabbed our sketches on the way out. We had worked out a kind of plan to get ourselves to the main service area, bypassing several known locations where guards were stationed. There were cameras everywhere, but there was nothing we could do about that.
When we had gone about 300 yards from our room, and after having entered into a fairly narrow corridor we knew was seldom used, the power went out. In this small corridor, there was no emergency lighting. From somewhere that felt very far away, we could feel a large engine rumble to life. Emergency lighting came on in the distance in the hallway to which we were headed. Full of apprehension, we continued that direction.
We followed our route, sometimes walking along in darkness, sometimes with the emergency lighting along the floor to guide us. Finally, we began to hear signs of life - voices coming from far away, from what I guessed was the location of the warehouse area. Not knowing any better, I figured that would be the place to head anyway. Perhaps we could get some answers to our questions there. Yet, as we approached the large room, that feeling of apprehension became almost tangible. By unspoken consent, Adam and I both paused before rounding the corner.
"I don't know what we're going to see when we go around that corner. This whole experience has been completely surreal. But whatever happens, stick close to me. Let's not get separated," I said.
Adam nodded. I looked at him, his eyes full of concern and yet determination. He'd certainly grown a lot the past full weeks. I grabbed him around the neck and pulled his head close to mine. Kissing the top of his head, I said, "Let's go."
We stepped out of the corridor into an anthill that had been kicked over.
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