Fifth in the series. Read after the break…
Insight
By Scott Lowther
Copyright 2019
1952, May: Utah
Another damned desert, Director Healy thought to himself as the helicopter landed next to what seemed to be an abandoned mine. I’m too old for this.
There was not a cloud in the sky, the nearest town was dozens of miles away and it was over 110 degrees. From Healys point of view, this was a pretty close approximation of Hell. Well, that’s why the place was chosen. As bad as it was for him, it was worse for his guests.
The mine consisted of a few ramshackle old buildings, little more than sheds and rust. One of the sheds was, conveniently, big enough for a few men to shove the helicopter into, to hide it from prying eyes. It was unlikely that the Soviets would have spy aircraft up there, but one never knew when a private pilot might choose just the wrong moment to fly overhead. The men walked Director Healy towards one of the other buildings. As he approached, he had serious doubts about it… it looked like it would collapse into a pile of pure tetanus if someone sneezed on it. An old sign hanging over the door said “Dead Rat Mine” in barely legible painted letters. Pulled by one of the escorts, the flimsy, rusted door creaked open and a blast of frigid air shot out, encompassing the Director.
Inside, the building was clearly brand new. Well lit, air conditioned, sturdy reinforced concrete construction; the exterior shell being simply camouflage. A flight of steps brought him down into the main structure. He saw little in the way of obvious security, but he also saw many small slits in the walls. Slits big enough for machine guns to suddenly make a ruckus through.
Healy was expected. An electric golf cart was waiting for him. The young agent behind the wheel was already babbling away, welcoming him to DODF Four. Healy took a seat and nodded politely, letting the agent continue his clearly well-practiced spiel as the cart suddenly lurched off down the wide and exceedingly long hallway. Healy noticed that the hallway sloped downwards… it was slight, but as the hallway was long the depth they were descending was substantial.
The underground tunnel took them underneath a sizable hill. Healy knew this, of course; he had approved the design of Deep One Detention Facility Four, code name Dead Rat Mine, as he had the previous three. He smiled to himself; only a decade ago a construction project such as this would have been far beyond the Office of Insights capabilities and budget. But after the Navy had secured the alien city in Antarctica and OoI experts had demonstrated their scientific prowess by finding and re-activating the faulty shield that had been intermittently hiding the whole region, Insight had found itself showered with cash. The Army Corps of Engineers was even now constructing facilities all over the United States for the Office, though of course most of those doing the actual work had no idea what they were really working on. This facility, for instance, was built as weapons storage depot… at least as far as the builders knew. Well, that’s true enough in a sense, Healy thought to himself.
The cart reached the end of the hallway. The driver was still going on about the place, as enthusiastically as when he started. “Thank you for the ride, Agent… uhhh…”
“Cole, sir,” the young man replied. “Steve Cole.”
Director Healy nodded. “OK, let’s see ‘em.”
Cole leaped out of the cart and punched in a number sequence in the mechanical lock next to a very heavily built steel door. There was a small click, and with the turn of a large lever the door opened. Cool humid air washed out, carrying with it the smell of the sea… salt, decay and fish. It was a familiar smell to Director Healy, and it did not evoke fond memories. Agent Cole held the massive door open for him.
On the other side of the door was a detention facility unlike any other on Earth. It was a vast room, more than a hundred feet wide by five times that in length and at least forty feet in depth. The doorway Healy had just come through opened up onto an observation platform centrally located on one of the narrow ends, some thirty feet above the floor. Rows of small houses filled most of the floor area, with a channel of water three feet deep and seven wide running its length down the middle. The far end of the room terminated in a shallow pool. Lighting was provided by a combination of fluorescent tubes in the ceiling and natural sunlight, piped down into the facility through mirror-lined tubes up to the surface. It was cool and humid and the lighting was akin to twilight, just as the residents preferred. No expense had been spared to make this as comfortable for them as possible.
But it was still a prison.
The large rectangular room was rimmed with smooth featureless steel walls, twenty feet high. Above that was a walkway that ran around the room, with a large number of armed guards walking it. Above them were a multitude of observation windows and gun ports. There were two travelling cranes that could run along the ceiling, both stowed at the far end. The cranes were used to lower food and other supplies and the occasional staff member, Healy knew; very rarely were they used to raise a resident. Access to the cranes was through a cupola projecting down from the center of the ceiling. Healy could see that, just like in the plans, it was a fully staffed guard room.
“As you can see,” Agent Cole said, “it’s just like in the plans. Comfortable for them, yet inescapable.”
Director Healy raised an eyebrow. “Don’t assume that,” he said, darkly. “Never assume that.”
Cole turned slightly reddish. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.
Healy stood on the platform for a moment, leaning on the railing and observing. Apart from the sound of flowing water and the whisper of the air circulation system, it was surprisingly quiet. None of the Deep Ones were visible either on the dry areas or in the water. “Where are they?” he asked.
Cole looked at his watch. “They’re in the cinema,” he said, pointing towards a larger structure near the far end, “watching a movie.”
“All of them?” Healy asked.
“Yessir,” Cole replied. “They’ve been looking forward to this one.”
“Which is?”
“’Singing in the Rain.’ I gather it’s a musical.”
Healy smirked. “So I’ve heard,” he said. “Don’t have much time for movies these days.
“So, young Mr. Cole, tell me: are the Deep Ones here content?”
Agent Cole gave a slight shrug. “They are… calm,” he said. “They have accepted their situation, I think, better than the other ones. The other fifteen hundred or so of them are terrible prisoners, while these individuals are… tractable. So long as they stay well behaved, we treat them as best we can.”
Healy nodded. “No full bloods, I take it?”
Agent Cole gave a little laugh. “Got that right, sir. No such thing as a well behaved full blood Deep One. They are…” He trailed off, trying to find the right word to describe ill-tempered monsters that were violently opposed to the mere existence of humanity and which had poor impulse control.
“I understand, Agent. But don’t get too comfortable with these. Hybrids they may be and human they may seem, but as they age they will become more and more like the full bloods. I’ve seen it myself… a perfectly normal, well-adjusted seeming kid grows up and, virtually overnight, turns into something… else.”
He turned from the view. “Alright, take me to them,” he said.
“Sir.” Cole turned and led Healy back to the cart, and drove him quarter of the way back out. A door in the side of the hallway opened onto another long hallway. Eventually they arrived at their destination, a set of offices and labs outside of which was a normal looking steno pool. Brightly lit, freshly painted, it could have fit in any office building in America, except for the complete lack of windows. Well, that and every secretary and stenographer had a revolver on her hip.
There, Director Healy saw his own portrait on the wall next to one of President Truman. Several other official photo portraits were on display, including one of his old partner, Agent Parker. Healy felt a twinge over that, the same old twinge of sadness over the loss of his good friend all those years ago, anger over the way in which he’d died.
There was a bustle nearby. Dr. Felber was moving up to him at a fast walk. “Hello, Director Healy,” the man said.
Healy gave him a warm smile. “You’re improving,” Healy said with a chuckle. “You’re looking me directly in my tie. Used to be you couldn’t look up from my shoes.”
Dr. Felber turned red. “It’s Maria,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking between Healys tie, and, astonishingly, his eyes. “She’s… she helps me a lot with that.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Healy said, his smile growing broader. He only wished he could have attended their wedding, but, as always things were busy at the time. “Where is she, by the way? I have something for the both of you.”
Soon they found Maria Felber. Not a difficult challenge as she was in her office, barking at someone on the phone in a language Director Healy did not immediately recognize. Healy knocked, and opened the door with feigned trepidation when Maria yelled “What?” at high volume. Dr. Felber followed him in; Agent Cole wisely stayed outside.
As soon as she saw who it was, a broad grin erased the look of anger she’d been wearing. She stood from her leather chair and leaned across her desk to shake Director Healy’s hand; gestured for him to take a seat and sat back down herself.
Healy was once again struck by just how lucky Dr. Felber was. To Healy’s eye, Maria was a blonder, prettier and more stacked version of Jane Russell, and that was hardly a bad thing. Director Healy and Mrs. Felber spent a moment catching up, the usual pleasantries; Dr. Felber stood silently off to one side. Healy glanced at him once and noticed that Dr. Felber was looking directly at his wifes eyes… the first time Healy could recall Felber looking at anyones eyes for more then just a second. She soon looked back at her husband and beamed a smile at him; he smiled back and to Healy looked like nothing so much as a young boy.
Astonishing.
But also, regrettably, not the point of the visit.
“There is news,” the Director said, quietly and seriously, “from Brass Valley, reclamations division.”
That got their attention.
“They found another one?” Maria asked quietly.
“They did indeed. Two, in fact. The first is being thawed now, following the protocols you and Dr. Felber produced.”
Maria leaned back in her chair, put her hands behind her head, cast her eyes up at the ceiling. What that did to the front of her shirt… Healy peeled his eyes away and looked over at Dr. Felber, who was also looking up at the ceiling, but had also turned a distinct shade of red.
“This is spectacular,” Maria said. “When we found that frozen Elder Thing a couple years ago and those chuckleheads thawed it out without proper planning, it killed… what? A dozen people before the guards put it down? This time, if they follow the protocols, it should wake up slow enough so that it won’t promptly come unglued. We’ll see if the pictograms get the story across.”
“Indeed,” Healy said. “If the first is awakened successfully and securely, the second will be brought around a few hours later. We should have confirmation by midnight tonight. And if either or both are successful, I want to send the both of you down to Brass Valley and see if you can help communicate with them.”
Maria beamed at him, Dr. Felber looked him in the eyes for almost two seconds. “Spectacular,” Maria said again. “With what we’ve learned so far about the Deep Ones, we’re definitely going to have a problem with their whole species, sooner or later. If we can get the Elder Things on our side, that’ll be an immense help.”
“We can only hope,” Director Healy said. Humanity was going to need all the help it could get.