Brian Evenson - Immobility

“Enough,” said Qatik. “In you go.”

Horkai started crawling toward it. He had to let his breath out and wriggle to make it under, and finally one of the two mules gave him a shove. He was in.

He turned and looked back, regarded the two large figures in hazard suits standing there just on the other side, staring in at him, faceplates pressed against the grate.

“We will wait for you,” said Qanik, and then began to cough again.

“Hurry,” said Qatik. “Please.”

And only then did Horkai realize that something was wrong with Qanik, that something had, in all likelihood, been wrong with him for some time. Not only was he coughing, but he was coughing up blood. The lower part of his faceplate was streaked with it on the inside. Will he be alive by the time I return? he wondered.

“Hurry,” urged Qatik again.

He nodded, then turned. Dragging his useless legs behind him, he began to pull himself down the tunnel.

THE TUNNEL WAS WIDE AND HIGH, rounded at the top, and continued back for what seemed to Horkai, pulling himself forward by his hands, a very long way. It ran deep into the mountain. The stone of the floor was cool and had been cut straight and polished. It was dusty, but other than that seemed to have suffered no damage.

The hall continued straight back, curving not at all. Every ten yards or so, the light that was now behind him would click off and a light in front of him would click on. He counted six lights before he saw, just beyond the sixth one, a thick metal door, like a door to a vault.

He pulled himself to it. It had neither handle nor hinges, and he wouldn’t have known it was a door at all except for the metal frame it was set in. Still, he thought, staring at it, it could just be a panel. It might not be a door at all.

He knocked on it, but his knuckles hardly made a sound. He looked around for something to strike it with but found nothing.

What now? he wondered.

He sat there for a little while, staring at the door, gathering his breath. Finally he struck the door again, slapping it with his open palm this time. The noise it made was only slightly louder.

The light above him went out and he was plunged into darkness. Briefly he was seized by panic, his heart rising in his throat, but the light came immediately back on when he began to wave his arms.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hello!” he yelled as loud as he could. “Let me in!”

The noise resonated up and down the shaft of the hall, but there was no sign he had been heard.

What now? he wondered again. Should he crawl back down the hall and out again, find the mules, get them to open another gate for him? And if that didn’t work, would they go on to the next, and then to the final one? And what if that one didn’t open either?

He pulled himself over until he was leaning against the wall.

And what if I’ve been sent on a wild goose chase? he wondered. What if Rasmus was wrong about what is actually here? What if someone was here but now they’re gone?

But that wouldn’t explain the redone road signs, unless whoever had done them had left recently. Even if they had left recently, it wouldn’t explain the plants they had seen—freshly watered, not even a day ago. No, someone was somewhere nearby. And with a little luck, they were here.

He cupped his hands around his mouth again, yelled anew. His voice echoed up and down the hall, but again there was no sign that anyone on the other side of the door had heard.

He stayed there, wondering how long he should wait. He was still wondering, when the light switched off again.

This time, frustrated, he didn’t bother to wave his arms, just let it stay dark.

There was a hint of something else other than darkness from the far end of the tunnel, the opening out into the night, where the sky was not completely dark but fading fast. There was something else, too, he realized as his eyes adjusted, a strange tint to the darkness around him, not enough to help him see, but something keeping it from being completely dark. He cast his eyes around, looking for whatever it might be, but saw nothing, no crack under or to the side of the door, nothing on the floor or the walls. But it was still there nonetheless, puzzling him.

And then suddenly it struck him. He looked all the way up, at the ceiling, and saw there, above his head, a small red light.

He clapped his hands once and when the light came on saw, on the wall above him, a small camera. As he watched, it made a slight whirring sound, angling differently, looking for something. Looking, he realized, for him.

He knuckled across the floor and to the other side of the hall, where the camera could see him. It whirred for a little longer as it tracked past him. He stared at it, one hand lifted in greeting. Suddenly it stopped, moved to point directly at him.

“Hello,” he said to the camera. “Can you hear me?”

The camera didn’t move. He turned to determine if it possessed a microphone or speakers, but saw no evidence of either. Feeling helpless, he raised his hands high above his head as if surrendering, then gestured at the door.

Immediately he heard a thunking sound and the door loosened in its frame. As he watched, it swung open a few inches, then stopped. Because of where he was in the hall, all he could see was the door itself, not what lay behind.

“If you have any weapons,” said a voice through the crack, “we ask that you leave them outside.”

“I don’t have any weapons,” Horkai lied, stifling the urge to touch his boot and make sure the knife was still there and, if it was, that it was still hidden.

“If you come in peace,” said the voice, “you shall find us to be your friends. If you come to make war, you shall find in us formidable enemies.”

It was a statement rather than a question, so at first he didn’t bother to respond. But when the person on the other side of the door seemed to be waiting he finally said, “Duly noted.”

The door swung open a little wider. A hand, hairless and pale and strangely transparent, appeared around the edge of it, extended and open.

“You may enter,” the voice said.

Slowly Horkai began to drag himself across the floor. And now, Horkai thought, his heart pounding, we will see what is inside. If it is a trap, then I am walking into it. If it is not a trap, I will take what I came for and leave.

Jaw set, he pulled himself along. He rounded the door and for the first time saw the man on the other side.

And that was the moment that everything irrevocably changed.

THE MAN ON THE OTHER SIDE of the door could have been his double. His skin was exceptionally pale, almost the color of bleached bone. His head was hairless, even the eyebrows missing, and from what Horkai could see—forearms, hands—the rest of his body appeared to be hairless as well. His features, though not identical to Horkai’s, were not dissimilar either, and they were roughly the same height. The man was wearing a long tunic, belted at the waist, a pair of worn leather boots below that. Horkai was too surprised to do anything but stare.

The man smiled. “Ah, brother,” he said. “You’ve come home at last.”

He lowered his extended hand in Horkai’s direction, but Horkai pushed it away. “Can’t stand,” he said. “Fell off something a few days ago and must have broken my spine.”

“No need to worry, brother,” said the man. “Time heals all wounds.”

“How long since I saw you?” asked Horkai. “Do I know you?”

“You haven’t seen me, brother,” said the man. “I was speaking metaphorically. I do not need to know you to recognize that you are my brother. Look at you and then look at me, and then tell me if you dare that we are not brothers.”