The Lucifer Sanction Read Free

Drummond nodded
verification at his blank faced audience. “We uphold
constant monitoring to be sure hydrogen sulfide doesn’t
reach ten-parts-per million. When that level’s approached,
our crew’s notified immediately.”
Enjoying his intellectual hammering of the media,
Drummond decided to push the topic a little farther. “At
concentrations of twenty ppm’s, an alarm sounds and
respirators are used. That’s when we engage our air pumps
for increased
ventilation to maintain proper exposure
levels. We feel that since the, uh . . .” he paused, removed
his glasses and slowly polished the lenses. He took time
to gather his thoughts. Once gathered he slid the glasses
back and gave a demure look. “Since the incident,” he
said, “we’ve appropriated air-monitoring units,” and he
waved an impatient hand toward the tunnel entry. “To
summarize... yeah, we supply fresh air to all underground
work areas in sufficient amounts as to prevent dangerous
accumulation of gases. But there are inherent dangers other
than gasses when tunneling a collapsed site.” He took a
few long seconds to savor the looks of fear, or anticipation.
“This area is far less stable than solid strata. Beside the fear
of the methane belching we’ve the ever present problem of
ground movement.”
Fellini raised a hand to quell the chatter. “The
ground you’re burrowing, has it stopped moving?”
“Burrowing!” Drummond retorted. “We’re not
bloody rodents, young man.”
Fellini cowered a little.
“The settlement of soil layers is ongoing. Unfortunately it’s been exacerbated by last summer’s snow-melt,
as well as recent heavy snowfall.” The Scot stared hard at
his open mouthed audience. “We’ve strategically positioned
pumps in an attempt to remove water from further affecting
these areas. The explosion that caused these mountains to
collapse pushed the surrounding forest into matchsticklike layers creating massive unpredictability. It’s left us
with extensive mushy areas of pulp-like bark that’s unable
to support the ceiling weight of the tunnel.” He stared at
the tunnel entrance, tossed the megaphone onto a pile of
equipment and motioned for them to follow.
*****
    The descent took a full thirty minutes. On arrival
at the tunnel’s end, Drummond readjusted his headgear,
turned to the camera and spoke directly at it. “A lot of
people will be fascinated by what we’ve discovered,” and
he gestured at surrounding wooden support-beams. “When
the mountains shifted, all of this stuff was buried under a
million tons of rubble. The rubble suffocated every living
thing in the valley of Andermatt.”
    Fellini stood back, gazed at the exposed section of
the metallic object and gave a peripheral nod to Drummond
as though asking permission to shoot video. A minute later
he lowered the camera, reluctantly placed a hand on the
object’s surface and whispered in a quivering voice that
only the doctor could hear, “This - this object, do you think
it’s extraterrestrial?”
    “No laddie. It’s more likely man-made. We’ve
taken days to clear away rubble around this section,” and
he waved a hand over the exposed area.
Fellini crooked his eye away from the viewfinder,
lowered the camera. “But what if it’s actually
not
extraterrestrial? What if it’s from, well - from this
planet?”
    “In that case,” Drummond snorted, “we’ll have
a bloody good time asking many, many more questions,
won’t we laddie?”
    Mateo moved away from the group and found
a quiet spot to ponder the situation. As he stretched he
inadvertently dislodged a piece of rubble. His eye caught
a glimpse of a metal rod that until now had been hidden
from view.
“Doctor!” he called aloud, “look here!”
    Silence slipped on by as Drummond inspected the
metal rod. “Could be a lever,” he whispered, “perhaps a
handle?”
    He gave a slight tug as the group huddled about
anxiously