Read Online Isle of Man (The Park Service Trilogy #2) by Ryan Winfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Ryan Winfield
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on higher ground than the treatment plant?” I ask.
The professor shakes his head.
“Methane rises.”
After we pass the fork leading to the valley of apartments, the path turns hard left, and we enter a tunnel in the cavern wall. Unlike the well-worn workers’ path, the tunnel seems neglected, mostly because of trash lying in corners and graffiti written on the walls. I notice one tag in particular that reads: JAMES + ERICA FOREVER, with a chalk line through “Erica” and the name BETH scrawled above it.
The professor stops at a steel door. A yellow warning label barely visible beneath the dirt and dust reads:
DANGER, BIOHAZARD.
He fumbles his pockets again for his keycard and waves it in front of a panel. The panel opens, exposing a keypad. He punches in a long code—nothing happens.
“Son of a sheep.” He closes his eyes for a moment then tries again. This time the locks release, and the heavy door pops open with a woosh of pressurized air from inside. A short hallway leads to another door with another keypad. The professor unlocks it, and we enter a cavernous room lit with orange vapor lights, a welcome change from the gray glow of LED. The walls are lined with yellow barrels all marked with three interlocking black circles that I recognize from my lessons as the biohazard sign. It’s a symbol that makes me instantly uncomfortable.
We cross the room quickly, our footsteps echoing in the quiet chamber, and enter yet another elevator, this one much smaller than the other. As the elevator descends, fear grips me again, and I lean against the wall and close my eyes. I try to calm myself by thinking about Jimmy. I imagine him miles above us, walking free beneath the bright winter sun. I imagine Junior gamboling along beside him, frolicking in the fresh snow. I imagine them making camp on the dry ground beneath a giant pine, huddling together in front of a warm fire. I think I’d give anything to be there with him right now.
As the elevator drops, the temperature rises, and sweat beads on my brow. Hannah grips my hand in hers, and I can tell by her clammy skin that she’s nervous, too. The professor whistles, seemingly more comfortable the deeper we go.
After what feels like an eternity, the elevator stops, and the doors open to reveal a circular room humming with the sound of hidden fans.
“It’s hot in here,” Hannah says, fanning her face.
The professor nods.
“Believe it or not, this is cool for this depth. If it weren’t for the fans, we’d be cooked alive.”
Several tunnels branch off from the room, all radiating in different directions and all with strange symbols etched into the walls above them. The professor stands staring at the tunnels, as if trying to remember the correct path.
“What language is that?” I ask.
The professor shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Haven’t you been here before?”
“Of course I have,” he says, his tone edgy with offense. “But you might remember that Holocene II was a government research facility long before Radcliffe negotiated a private and public partnership for the Foundation to run it.”
“What did they do down here before?” I ask.
“I don’t know much,” he answers, with a slight shiver in his voice. “And I what I do know I wish I could forget. I think it’s this third tunnel. Follow me now. Let’s hurry along.”
We enter the tunnel, and I feel a noticeable and welcome breeze that smells of chemically conditioned air. The tunnel is dim, lined with closed doors on either side. Above each door are symbols in the same alien characters as were above the tunnels themselves. The professor stops at a door and puzzles over the symbol. He reaches for the handle, then hesitates. He changes his mind, pulls his hand back, and moves to the next door, mumbling to himself as we follow. Seemingly sure this time, he opens the door. A blue ceiling light illuminates glass, liquid-filled pods from which shadowed mutant
The professor shakes his head.
“Methane rises.”
After we pass the fork leading to the valley of apartments, the path turns hard left, and we enter a tunnel in the cavern wall. Unlike the well-worn workers’ path, the tunnel seems neglected, mostly because of trash lying in corners and graffiti written on the walls. I notice one tag in particular that reads: JAMES + ERICA FOREVER, with a chalk line through “Erica” and the name BETH scrawled above it.
The professor stops at a steel door. A yellow warning label barely visible beneath the dirt and dust reads:
DANGER, BIOHAZARD.
He fumbles his pockets again for his keycard and waves it in front of a panel. The panel opens, exposing a keypad. He punches in a long code—nothing happens.
“Son of a sheep.” He closes his eyes for a moment then tries again. This time the locks release, and the heavy door pops open with a woosh of pressurized air from inside. A short hallway leads to another door with another keypad. The professor unlocks it, and we enter a cavernous room lit with orange vapor lights, a welcome change from the gray glow of LED. The walls are lined with yellow barrels all marked with three interlocking black circles that I recognize from my lessons as the biohazard sign. It’s a symbol that makes me instantly uncomfortable.
We cross the room quickly, our footsteps echoing in the quiet chamber, and enter yet another elevator, this one much smaller than the other. As the elevator descends, fear grips me again, and I lean against the wall and close my eyes. I try to calm myself by thinking about Jimmy. I imagine him miles above us, walking free beneath the bright winter sun. I imagine Junior gamboling along beside him, frolicking in the fresh snow. I imagine them making camp on the dry ground beneath a giant pine, huddling together in front of a warm fire. I think I’d give anything to be there with him right now.
As the elevator drops, the temperature rises, and sweat beads on my brow. Hannah grips my hand in hers, and I can tell by her clammy skin that she’s nervous, too. The professor whistles, seemingly more comfortable the deeper we go.
After what feels like an eternity, the elevator stops, and the doors open to reveal a circular room humming with the sound of hidden fans.
“It’s hot in here,” Hannah says, fanning her face.
The professor nods.
“Believe it or not, this is cool for this depth. If it weren’t for the fans, we’d be cooked alive.”
Several tunnels branch off from the room, all radiating in different directions and all with strange symbols etched into the walls above them. The professor stands staring at the tunnels, as if trying to remember the correct path.
“What language is that?” I ask.
The professor shakes his head.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Haven’t you been here before?”
“Of course I have,” he says, his tone edgy with offense. “But you might remember that Holocene II was a government research facility long before Radcliffe negotiated a private and public partnership for the Foundation to run it.”
“What did they do down here before?” I ask.
“I don’t know much,” he answers, with a slight shiver in his voice. “And I what I do know I wish I could forget. I think it’s this third tunnel. Follow me now. Let’s hurry along.”
We enter the tunnel, and I feel a noticeable and welcome breeze that smells of chemically conditioned air. The tunnel is dim, lined with closed doors on either side. Above each door are symbols in the same alien characters as were above the tunnels themselves. The professor stops at a door and puzzles over the symbol. He reaches for the handle, then hesitates. He changes his mind, pulls his hand back, and moves to the next door, mumbling to himself as we follow. Seemingly sure this time, he opens the door. A blue ceiling light illuminates glass, liquid-filled pods from which shadowed mutant
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