Uncontacted, page 19
The house loomed in the distance through the jungle, torches flickering in the dying light. Too many questions flooded his mind upon seeing it. What if it’s locked? What if it’s not real? A trap? It seems so out of place, why is it here? He didn’t recognize the building itself from any part of his real life. What if entering it takes him to some other simulation and the stone is here in this one? Yet, short of combing through the foliage and trees for the meteorite, he didn’t see any other logical places to look.
Antonio moved toward the structure at a brisk walk, doing his best not to make noise with his passage, but finding it hard not to run straight to the house. At one point he came to a jumble of rocks in a ground depression, and he took the time to comb through these, casting some aside, turning them over, recoiling once as a serpent slithered out from under its dislodged hiding place, but the space rock was not among them.
He kept going toward the house, combing the ground as he went for anything that looked like a place to hide the sacred stone, but by the time he reached the open front lawn of the mansion, the torch light flickering across green blades of grass, he had still come up empty. A breeze blew through the yard and Antonio felt a chill on his skin. Across the lawn, a wide set of steps led up to a veranda outfitted with porch furniture.
He strode across the lawn, setting off pinpoints of light with his feet as he walked —fireflies, he supposed, though they were a rainbow of colors, not only yellow or green. He ascended the steps, boards creaking beneath his feet, and then walked across the veranda to the front door. A stout wooden affair with an ornate brass fixture consisting of a knocker made to resemble a stylized planet Earth, Antonio raised his hand to grip it but then reconsidered. The knock would be loud in the serene stillness. Maybe the door would be open?
He reached out and gripped the handle, but no, it was locked. And then he noticed an electronic keypad set into the door frame. He hadn’t seen it when he walked up, but he supposed it was because he’d been focused on the door handle. He studied the LED display and saw eight asterisks, indicating an entry code of as many digits. His initial reaction was one of hopelessness—eight digits, that’s impossible to guess—but then he took a deep breath and thought about what was tying this together, what had brought him here. He reached out to the key pad and entered: 02281972. His birthday.
A soft tone sounded, and when Antonio tried the door handle again, the door pushed open. He wondered how Stel would ever be able to get in here, but then realized that he would likely have a different combination, one that was suited to his particular set of experiences.
Gently pushing the door open, Antonio walked into the house.
Chapter 37
A grand entrance hall. Antonio craned his neck to look up at the ceiling, three stories above his head. A spiral staircase flowed past a hanging crystal chandelier and a stained glass window halfway up the stairs let in the day’s fading light. The hardwood floor was partially covered with a sprawling oriental rug. Rooms lay off to his left and right, with the stairwell in front of him leading up.
He stood, taking it all in, listening. The house was quiet. No music, television, no voices, no footsteps. The furniture, the artwork, it was all high quality but old, giving the place a vintage feel. Antonio opted to move to the right. He walked to the edge of the room and saw that it was down two steps from the entrance hall. He stepped into the sunken living room and took it all in. Walls lined with big game taxidermy—jaguar heads, elephants, boar, even ocean game fish such as marlin and sailfish.
A coffee table and leather couch occupied the floor space in front of him. A few books were sprawled on the table, and he went to one to look at the title: View to the Amazon rain Forest. The cover featured a photograph taken from just beneath the tree canopy, and looking down straight to the forest floor. Antonio looked closer but could see no author listed on the cover, only the title.
He left the coffee table and moved to the center of the room, where he saw an open doorway leading to an adjacent room. He went there, and saw that he had to step up to get into it. The room was dimly lit, but enough to see that it was a strange place indeed. Or different, at least, Antonio thought as he stepped inside. A suit of armor greeted him from the corner to his right, while a standing gorilla was mounted to his left. But it was the walls that commanded his attention. Both of them were lined with gun racks and weapon cabinets.
Walking deeper into the room, he saw that the cabinets on the left held various bladed weapons—knives, both fixed blade and folding, throwing stars, daggers, machetes, kukris, broad swords, two-handed swords, fencing swords, lances, spears, clubs and more… And not all vintage, either, Antonio thought. Some were very old indeed, but others were obviously modern. Someone here is very into weapons, Antonio thought, turning around to look at the opposite wall.
Guns, lots of them. Also a mix of types—handguns and long guns, vintage and modern. Cabinets to the left and right of the guns held ammunition and accessories—clips, holsters, bullets, scopes…Antonio looked back to the guns, to the section where several automatic weapons were shelved, including AK-47s, AK-74s and more. Weird, he thought, but he didn’t see the stone in here so he was getting ready to exit back into the living room—this room had no other outlet—when his gaze fell on something that made his breath catch.
One of the rack spaces in the automatic weapon section was empty. An AK-47 was nestled under it, while an AK-9 was above it, and other compact automatic weapons lay above and below those. Clearly, one of them had been taken.
Slowly, Antonio turned around, suddenly more interested in his situational awareness. Someone had taken one of the machine guns, and he had a pretty good idea of who it was.
Stel.
He had to assume it was Stel, and not that one gun happened to be missing from the racks. Antonio grabbed a Beretta M12 for himself. He slid the bolt back, saw that it was already loaded with a clip, and slung the strap around his shoulder. Then he walked by the handguns and selected a Glock 9mm with a shoulder holster and extra clip to go with it and strapped it on. Finally, moving to the knives, he picked a lethal-looking, serrated fixed-blade knife from the rack and attached its sheath to his belt.
Antonio walked back out into the living room, conscious now of his footsteps and keeping them silent. Stel was somewhere in this house. But was he looking for the stone, or laying in wait to eliminate his opponent? The latter course of action would give Stel time to find the stone at his leisure once he had dispatched Antonio. At the same time, it would be tempting to try and find the prize and then abscond with it unseen.
Antonio crossed back into the entrance hall, looked up the stairs, and then proceeded to enter the room that lay in the opposite direction from the living room.
Dining room. Large table with places set for twelve, a bowl of fresh fruit the only food present. Walking along the table, Antonio passed the fruit and eyed a shiny red apple. Unable to resist, he picked it up. It seemed real enough. He took a bite and savored the delicious taste. How long had it been since he’d eaten? Not that long, he reminded himself. He’d had lunch in the internet café, but that seemed so impossibly long ago, like time was suspended in this dream world. He stopped eating the apple because it made a lot of noise, the crunching, he was afraid Stel could hear it if he was near enough. He set it on the table and then, staring at the table and its white lace tablecloth draped over the edge, slowly drew his automatic weapon and backed up. When he was far enough away, he crouched while sweeping his muzzle underneath the table.
Nothing underneath. Breathing a sigh of relief, Antonio turned his attention to the rest of the room. A china hutch occupied one wall, and Antonio examined its contents—fine chinaware, crystal decanters, bowls and the like. But no meteorites. He saw nothing else in the room that offered either a hiding spot for the artifact or a clue as to its whereabouts, so he moved on into the next room.
Kitchen. A sprawling, two-section affair with a granite-topped island and stainless steel built-in appliances. Six rattan barstools were pulled up to the side of the island counter outside the food preparation area. The flooring was very solid, dark wood, probably old growth mahogany or something similar, Antonio thought, The strange mixture of contemporary and vintage did not escape Antonio, but if it meant something it escaped him.
There were many cabinets both high and low in here. But as Antonio looked around, he noticed that a couple of the cabinet doors were ajar, as though opened and left in a hurry without bothering to close them again. A deep drawer was open, too, its contents—long-handled utensils such as ladles and whisks--disheveled and protruding from the drawer.
Stel had been here already. Antonio’s time was better spent elsewhere, and so he focused on where to look next. A back door out of the kitchen led to another area, so he went to it and cautiously peered inside. A laundry room, both washer and dryer doors already opened. He was late to the party here, too. Frowning, Antonio retreated into the kitchen and walked back into the entrance hall.
He stood and looked up the stairway. Time to see what was on the second floor. A chill coursed down his spine; if Stel was still in this house, he was almost surely up there.
He placed his foot onto the first step and grimaced as he heard it creak faintly. He swung his new best friend—his Beretta submachine gun-- up to the ready position as he ascended the stairs. Due to their circular structure, he was shielded from view all the way to the second floor, which was actually at a third story height because of the high ceiling. Still, he progressed slowly, stealth at the forefront of his mind.
At the top of the staircase he froze. A creak of floorboards echoed somewhere from the new floor. A hallway ran right and left with no actual room directly at the top of the stairs. Samba music played softly from somewhere up here, a casual-sounding mood that belied the true nature of Antonio’s purpose here.
He stepped into the hall and an explosion of gunfire shattered the calm. Showers of plaster dust rained down on him as he dashed right, opposite from where the shots had come from. He knew he was very lucky he hadn’t been hit, and he zigged and zagged down the hall to make himself a more erratic target. When he reached the opening to one of the bedrooms, he dove headlong into it and quickly rolled onto the floor out of the doorway.
He scrambled under the king-sized bed as Stel’s rapid footfalls echoed down the hall. Antonio’s machine gun was still slung around his back and he was still having trouble swinging it around as Stel entered the bedroom. He smiled when he saw the blood that had congealed in one of Stel’s socks. Apparently he’d run into some trouble in this strange wonderland, too. But Antonio still couldn’t access his main weapon, and doing so now would make too much noise. Knowing he would have to settle for the pistol, he reached under his chest and removed the Glock from its holster.
Stel’s ankles and shoes—black loafers, oddly enough—passed from left to right in front of Antonio’s floor-level eyes. He didn’t want to risk a shot until he could do real damage, because with that automatic weapon, Stel would be able to blast right through the bed, he wouldn’t even need to aim. Antonio lay still enough to be a corpse in a tomb as he watched Stel’s feet retreat into the adjoining bathroom. Heard him sliding back a shower curtain…
Go!
Antonio rolled out from under the bed, hoping he could avoid a gunfight. He didn’t know if the bathroom connected to an adjoining bedroom or not, but he knew he had to get out of here before Stel came back into the bedroom. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret at not being able to look for the stone more thoroughly in this room, but one thing was apparent: it wasn’t under the bed.
Antonio slinked out of the room into the hall and looked down the stairs. Due to their circular nature, he would be quickly out of sight before he got very far down. He cast a quick glance along the hallway, where another bedroom door was closed. He didn’t worry about not seeing the stone up here. Stel had beat him to it, anyway; if it was up here, he would have gotten it already instead of hunting him down like an animal.
But something on the wall caught his eye. A framed picture of some sort, only it didn’t look like artwork. A diagram was Antonio’s best guess. Then he heard Stel’s voice, yelling from somewhere back in the rooms: “The stone is mine, Dr. Medina! Go home and leave it alone. I won’t hesitate to do what I have to do!”
Antonio heard drawers and cupboards opening and slamming. Rather than answer, the ecologist silently padded down the carpeted hallway to the framed picture. It was one of those floorplan diagrams commonly seen in public buildings, to highlight emergency escape routes. This one was complete with a You Are Here green dot. Maybe this place used to be a hotel, Antonio thought, and then he reminded himself that nothing here was what it seemed, and that everything here was by design exactly what he was supposed to see.
Consulting the diagram, he could easily discern the two main floors and even part of the grounds surrounding the house. But wait…Part of the plan featured what looked like a floor he hadn’t noticed before. Now, how could that be? Antonio started to wonder, but then saw the letter “B,” written in red, next to the unknown floor. Of course! A basement.
He heard Stel running and then the bedroom door at the end of the hall—the one Antonio hadn’t been to yet—flew open. Antonio turned and sprinted for the stairs. “Coward!” Stel hollered as he unleashed the full fury of his machine gun.
This is it, Antonio thought. I’m dead. Whatever that means in a place like this. He was about to lose the game, that was for sure. If not his life. The first salvo of rounds stitched across the wall in Antonio’s direction. He jumped toward the stairs but, knowing he was too late, he put his arms behind his head in anticipation of being shot. But the impact never came. Instead, Stel cursed his jammed weapon before hurling it at Antonio in frustration. His throwing aim was better than his shooting, because the gun hit Antonio in the kneecap, causing him to bend his leg momentarily. He used the opportunity to pick up the gun.
Then, as Stel started to bull-rush him, Antonio tossed the jammed weapon aside and withdrew his Glock. He didn’t think Stel had a backup weapon, since he’d seen no empty pistol racks down in the armory.
“Freeze, Stel! Stop now!” He fired a warning shot into the wall to the anthropologist’s right. That did it. Stel halted, putting his arms up. But his menacing grin remained.
“What happens if we die in here, Dr. Medina, do you know?”
“You lose the game, and I get the stone. That’s my guess, but of course it’s only a guess. Take one more step, though, and you’re going to find out for sure.”
Stel didn’t move. “I’ve already canvassed this entire house. It’s not in here. It must be outside somewhere.”
“I’m not asking you where it is, Stel. Just shut up. We’re going our separate ways.”
“What happens if the game is a draw, Dr. Medina? If neither of us find the stone? You think about that?”
“Then there’s no winner, and neither of us get the stone.”
“So we’re both losers in that scenario, is that it?”
“Based on what you did, Stel, you’re a loser in any scenario. Goodbye, and good luck to you. I’m not sure what happens to the loser if they’re not killed in this little simulation. Maybe you’ll respawn somewhere like in a video game, who knows. But here’s what I do know: You’re going to stay up here, at the top of the stairs, until you hear me leave by the front door. If I see you before then….” Keeping the pistol pointed at Stel, Antonio brought his own machine gun around on the strap and aimed it at his opponent.
Then he backed up until he reached the stairs. He kicked Stel’s gun down, taking satisfaction in watching Stel’s grim expression as his only weapon clattered down the steps.
Antonio turned and jogged down the stairway, firing a short burst from the automatic weapon to make sure his point was crystal clear. He stopped about halfway down to see if he could hear Stel following in his footsteps, but all was silent. Antonio made it the rest of the way down the stairs and trotted into the kitchen area.
The floorplan diagram had shown the basement entrance to be in the laundry room. He crossed through the kitchen and into the laundry room. He stopped in his tracks as he saw the elevator door on the far wall, across from the washer and dryer. Strange, he thought--who has an elevator in the laundry room? Then he thought maybe it was a laundry chute or dumbwaiter for transferring clothes from the upper floor, but as he walked up to the panel, it looked no different than an ordinary elevator to him. Even the brand, Otis, was familiar.
Wow, he thought, walking up to the control panel, even stranger, there was no up arrow, only one for down. Antonio brought his machine gun front and center and then pressed the button.
Chapter 38
The elevator was empty. It looked like any other elevator he’d ever been in. Antonio stepped inside, saw there were only two buttons: one labelled “H” (House?), and one labelled “B.” Basement, here we go. He pressed the ‘B’ button, the doors whirred shut and he felt the familiar sensation of travelling downward in an elevator car. He expected to stop one floor down, but the elevator continued down, down, down, for almost a minute, until it came to a stop with a pleasant chime.
The doors opened and Antonio stared out into a bright white hall—floors, walls, ceiling, all painted white with fluorescent tube lights illuminating it all from above. He stepped out into the hallway and immediately the elevator doors closed and the car began its upward journey. To his right, the hall seemed to stretch on forever. To his left, a sign on the wall read, RECEIVING, with an arrow pointing left. He walked in that direction until he came to an alcove that interrupted the hallway wall as it stretched out to infinity.
He was shocked to see glass double-doors with a modern lobby inside, decorated with short cut commercial carpeting and potted ficus trees. Two uniformed guards stood off to the sides of the room. One wore a U.S. Army uniform, although he was clearly a Brazilian tribal man, with facial tattoos and large ear loops. He wore a modern pistol in a holster on his right side, and a bow and arrow quiver slung over one shoulder. The other guard wore a pressed blue uniform with the insignia of the European Union, and Antonio recognized this man as an Andaman islands tribe member. He was armed with an Uzi assault rifle slung over one shoulder, and a pouch full of poison-tipped blowdarts ready at his waist.
