| 1 | Prologue
Author's Note:
I just want to thank everyone who read the first book, especially the people who left reviews, likes and reactions!
Your opinion is very valuable to me, so do not hesitate to let me know what you think!
Thank you very much for being here. Book 2 is far more interesting than book 1, in my opinion, but it's also a little bigger.
Actually, a lot.
Enjoy!
~ your author,
Sandy
Mir Mine Construction Area, Mirny, USSR, December 1956
His vision was blurry. Every single muscle on his body was sore. His mouth tasted like mud and his throat was hoarse. The lack of oxygen was making him dizzy. There was barely any light coming from the old lamps that the five men hung on the walls the deeper they dug inside the mine. They were all exhausted and covered in sweat and dirt. Their clothes were ragged and overworn. It was much warmer underground than it was aboveground.
The temperature above was way below zero, day and night. The soldiers assigned to overlook their labour, kept telling them to count themselves lucky to be posted in the deepest corridor of the mine. Even when the oxygen was scarce, and their bodies were barely functioning in such conditions. At least, the next shift of soldiers was taking too long to arrive.
The Party Secretary had posted soldiers to watch over them and to make sure that they were all putting in some effort. Igor had endured enough beatings for today just for daring to take a second to catch his breath. The five men were taking advantage of the few minutes it took for the soldiers to change shifts. They sat down in the dirt and stones to rest.
Yevgeni, a comrade of his, sitting beside him, handed him back his flask of vodka that Igor always somehow managed to sneak in, in an ingenious inside back-pocket that his wife had sewn on his uniform. No soldier had ever caught him sneaking in that flask. He was risking his head for a sip of vodka that he shared around with four other men.
“I think we’re getting close,” Yevgeni said.
“Close to suffocating to death or calling it a day?” Igor asked. They didn’t even know what time it was. They had been down there for what felt like hours.
“Both,” Yevgeni grinned. He was a slender man with brown hair, brown eyes, and pale skin. He had a wife and child waiting for him back home.
Igor only had a wife. The two were hesitant about bringing a child into this world.
“Close to the hideout, more like it,” Grischa said. It was another man sitting on the dirt across Yevgeni. The other two were further down the corridor, still digging through the stubborn stones. “I feel like if we dig any further to the west, we’ll be able to hear Father Nikolai’s underground sermons.”
Both Yevgeni and Igor chuckled weakly, passing him over the flask. Grischa brought it to his lips but Igor spoke, stopping him.
“Hey, tiny sips, okay? We don’t know how much longer we have down here, and our only consolation is liquor,” Igor reminded him, and Grischa chuckled.
“Relax. I’ll bring some more next time.”
“You said the same thing last time.”
Before they could continue talking, the sound of the two other men crying out interrupted them. All three men stood up immediately and turned at the others, finding them gone. There was a hole on the ground nearby the spot Igor had last seen them.
The three men rushed to the hole, dropping on their knees to look at the dark nothingness that spread beneath. Igor grabbed one of the yellow lamps and he brought it to the hole to shine through. Their comrades could be seen, lying on their backs on top of whatever lied beneath.
“Ilya! Alexei! Are you two alright?!” Yevgeni cried out.
One of the two grunted. His entire body ached from the impact, but it didn’t feel like he’d been injured in any way. The other man beside him also recovered quite fast. The two looked up at the light that Igor shed over them.
“We’re… alive,” Ilya said, pulling himself up on his feet and helping his comrade stand up offering his hand. Ilya’s hand reached back for his flashlight. He pulled it out and switched it on, and so did Alexei beside him.
“Don’t tell me this is that stupid undercity you dumb rebels have dug up,” Alexei grumbled. If that was the case, they were in big trouble.
“No, it’s definitely not it!” Grischa cried out. At least, it didn’t look like it.
“Hang on,” Igor said, “we’ll get you a rope.”
While Igor, Grischa and Yevgeni fumbled through their tools for a rope, Alexei and Ilya decided to have a look around. It looked… strange. The walls were… metallic, or at least they felt cold and metallic to the touch. There were cables protruding from cracks on the walls, as if they’d been torn out. There was machinery attached on what looked like a console, with screens and countless buttons and levers. The technology seemed advanced. They’d never seen anything quite like it before.
“Do you think this is American?” Alexei asked, shedding light on all the strange devices. Even the floor seemed weird. They definitely were no longer inside a corridor surrounded by stone and dirt. They were inside something. A vehicle perhaps? But what kind of vehicle could be so big and spacious? It didn’t look like an airplane, or even a boat.
How did it end up down here?
“I doubt the Americans are smart enough to come up with something like this,” Ilya said.
“You do have a point.”
Igor slipped down the rope, to make sure that it could hold the weight of a man. He landed on the metallic floor with a thud, and he pulled out his flashlight.
“Come on, guys, let’s get back up. The rope is strong. Grischa and Yevgeni will help if anything goes-” Igor stopped talking when he realised none of the other two men had heard him.
The two were approaching what looked like a strange container the size of a human, made of metal and glass.
They seemed entranced by it. Igor arched an eyebrow, and he approached them, standing between them. He placed a hand on Ilya’s shoulder, trying to get his attention.
“What are you two-”
“Don’t you want to see what’s inside?” Ilya cut him.
“No,” Igor said decisively. “No, I don’t. We don’t know what’s inside. We don’t know what this place even is. It could be dangerous.”
“Relax,” Alexei shrugged, calm as ever. “More dangerous than the Party Secretary? I doubt it. Besides, we’ll only take a look.”
Igor sighed and let them be. He shed light on the walls, until he found a writing in fine Latin letters that no human hand could have drawn with such accuracy. He didn’t speak English, but he knew someone who did.
Igor propped the back of the flashlight between his teeth to keep it directed to the wall, and he pulled out a tiny, pocket-sized notebook, and a pencil. He tried to copy the writing on the wall.
Burgess Ltd. #689
Ilya let out a cry of pain, snapping Igor out of it.
“Argh! Something bit me!”
“Where did it go!”
Igor immediately turned at the others, stuffing the notebook and the pencil in his pocket and gripping his flashlight, shedding light on the other two.
“What? What is it?!” Igor cried out.
“It was so fast, I didn’t even get to see it!” Alexei cried out, terrified, gripping on his arm.
Ilya rushed to Alexei, shedding light on his bitten arm. There was a circular bite on the forearm. It looked like a thousand tiny nails had penetrated and ruined his skin. The man cried out in pain. Crimson red, hot blood dripped on the floor.
Something came from above, landing on top of both Ilya and Alexei at the same time. The two men cried out and dropped their flashlights. Both flashlights crushed on the floor and the lamps broke. They were turned off instantly. The only functional flashlight was Igor’s. His hand shook as he shed light all around him, frantically searching for the two men, but it was like they had disappeared in a single blink of an eye.
Something fell on his back. Something fast and wet, and slippery as if wholly covered by mucous. It hissed in his ear. Igor cried out and the flashlight dropped from his hands, landing on the hard metallic floor, breaking as well.
His screams drowned in the darkness.
