Carl Frederick: Howl of the Seismologist

“I’ll come and help. Maybe the two of us—”

“No, stay put,” said Alex in grunts, pulling with all his strength at the depressed handle. He released his grip. “This doesn’t have room for two hands—much less four.”

“What’ll we do?” Katerina’s words reverberated in the silent room.

Alex noted the silence. He could hear neither the sounds of machinery, nor of the air-conditioners. My god! That means there’s no air circulating. He shuddered. Maybe it means that we’ll just be breathing stale air. Or maybe—

“Alex?”

“We’ll be all right.” Alex didn’t know if he should try the door again or sit still to conserve oxygen.

“I must admit,” said Katerina with obviously forced brightness, “that I’m beginning to be just a little frightened.”

Alex backed against the wall and slid to a sitting position. “We’ll be okay,” he said again, hoping Katerina couldn’t hear the insincerity in his voice. “Let’s just sit quietly and wait to be rescued.” He sought and found her hand, and pressed it.

“Maybe Takeo will come,” she said.

Alex pictured the diminutive Takeo. We don’t need a particle physicist. We need a sumo wrestler.

“Oh, wait!” Abruptly, Katerina pulled her hand away, and a moment later there came light—from the display of Katrina’s mobile phone.

“No service down here,” she said, “but at least we have some light.”

Alex, chagrined that he’d not thought of it, reached for his own phone. But he stopped as Katerina snapped hers closed. “Better not to have light,” she said, softly. “I’d rather you’d not see how frightened I am.”

“We’ll be all right,” said Alex for the third time, feeling unoriginal as well as insincere. He thought to change the subject. “You know,” he said, “I bet the director actually accepts our data and wants an earthquake—so Fermilab can collect the insurance to pay for the new magnets.” He shook his head, an invisible gesture in the darkness. “Sounds like insurance fraud to me.”

“I did not realize,” said Katerina in a voice more amused than frightened, “that you were a forensic seismologist—or indeed that there even was such a field of study.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” Alex forced a laugh. “I’m being silly.”

“Wait a minute.Shouldn’t there be air circulation blowers down here?” Katerina now sounded frightened. “I don’t hear them.”

“You noticed,” said Alex.

“Yes.”

In the silent room, Alex didn’t know whether to try to cheer Katerina up or to just keep quiet. He kept quiet.

After a few silent minutes, there came a muffled pounding at the door.

Katerina flipped her phone open, illuminating the massive door with a feeble light.

Alex bolted to his feet and pounded back with both hands. He saw the door move a millimeter or two. Someone was trying to open it from outside. Alex grabbed the handle and pulled. His shoulder ached and it felt as if his fingers were being ripped from his hand. From the corner of his eye, he saw Katerina stand and move her hands to the door. But there was no purchase, not even the slightest deviation from smoothness where she could grab on. Alex closed his eyes, throwing all his strength and concentration to the depressed handle.

The door gave a shudder and, groaning, stuttered open a bit.

Wegener, with happy barking, squeezed in. Alex dropped to the ground and hugged him. Then, strangely embarrassed, he waved Katerina toward the narrow opening. “Ladies first.”

She smiled as she slid through the gap. Alex forced the opening larger and, sideways, he went through. Outside the chamber, the darkness was relieved by an array of amber, electroluminescent arrows set in the floor pointing to a way out.

Wegener padded through the gap—and then headed further into the facility, a direction delineated by softly glowing arrows receding into the distance. Alex, wondering what had gotten into the dog, called him back.

Takeo stood waiting near the door. “Is there injury?” he said.

“We’re fine,” said Alex.

“That was very brave of you,” said Katerina, “coming after us.”

“Alex’s dog insisted.”

Alex glanced at Wegener. The dog, muzzle pointed toward the interior of the facility, was making whining noises.

“What is the matter with the dog?” said Takeo.

“I don’t know.” Alex patted Wegener, but that didn’t calm the animal. “He was a drug sniffer dog, but who knows? He might have also been trained as a disaster rescue dog.”

“You think there are people trapped in here?” said Katerina.

“What?” Alex was puzzled. Katerina sounded different. Her voice was thinner and higher pitched. Then he understood. “Crouch down,” he said almost at a shout, “and breathe close to the ground. We’re breathing a lot of helium.” He crouched. Katerina and Takeo did so as well. Low to the ground, they made their way slowly toward the exit.

“If the liquid helium line has ruptured,” said Takeo, “then the magnets are destroyed. The Tevatron is dead.”

“Such a lot of destruction,” said Katerina.

“It would have been much worse had it not been shut down when it did.” Takeo looked back at Alex. “One assumes it was you who annealed the tear in the spacetime fabric.”

“I did hit the button.”

As they neared the entrance, a shaft of sunlight shone down the staircase. Alex blinked in the brightness, and he noticed that their voices had returned to normal. “I guess the helium’s dissipated.” He stood upright. Katerina and Takeo did as well.

They’d taken a few more steps when the shaft of light vanished, replaced by animated shadows from the entrance. They stopped as another beam of light, this time from a flashlight, found them.

As the light grew close, Alex saw that it was wielded by a police officer. Behind him walked another individual.

“Is that the deputy director?” Katerina whispered.

“Decker?” said Alex, squinting past the beam. “Yeah. I think so.”

At about the same time, Decker seemed to recognize them. “Have you seen the director?” he called out, without preamble.

“No,” Alex called back. “Why?”

“I was on the phone with him.” Decker stopped as he reached Alex and the others. “The line went dead. He might be trapped in his hideaway down here.” He glanced over at the police officer. “I didn’t know what to do. I called 911.”

“Where is that hideaway?” said Katerina.

Decker stared down the corridor. “Don’t really know. I’ve never been there.”

“Well, come on,” said the police officer. “We’d better hunt him down.”

Again, Wegener whined, and pointed his muzzle towards the interior.

Alex glanced at him. “My dog seems to want to hunt him down as well.”

Katerina cocked her head. “How could Wegener have possibly gotten to know the director’s scent?”

“I don’t know,” said Alex, letting Wegener have his way. “I just don’t know.”

Nose to the ground, Wegener padded down the corridor. The officer, his flashlight serving as the headlight of a locomotive, followed—and the others followed him.

A few minutes later, after running a convoluted route through many corridors, Wegener stopped at a door. Opening outward, the door was made non-functional by an equipment rack overturned in front of it.

The officer pounded on the door. “Anyone in there?”

“Get me out of here,” came a voice, the director’s, from inside.

Alex and Decker lifted the rack upright and shoved it out of the way. The door opened and the director, seeming unsteady on his feet, came out. Wegener, though, darted inside and started barking.