Part III- The Merge

Chapter 23- Introductions

The railroad tunnel was surrounded by solid mountain walls and lights that turned on and flickered off as the train rolled through the cavernous, gutted mountain. I don’t know how far we had traveled but we drove for another two hours in silence, exhaustion being the key culprit. I wondered if anyone else felt the bittersweet moment of victory mixed with guilt knowing that we had made our way to the underground, but two of our members hadn’t. I chuckled a bit and shook my head. He had actually grown on me. On the surface what a salty jackass, irritating me every chance he had, but he rose to the occasion when it counted the most. Would we have been friends out in the real world? I wondered. Probably not. We had gotten so tribalized in this country, I probably would’ve labelled him a member of the oppressive patriarchy and written him off. I couldn’t see myself walking in the same circles, nor picture myself sitting at a bar swapping stories like drinking buddies in real life, but when it came down to it, he died a hero’s death for complete strangers, and that should’ve counted for something. I felt guilty for ignoring him during our group sessions, back when we were going through the selection process to join the underground study. I’m sure he had a story. Everyone has a story to tell. It makes them who they are, why they’re broken, and why they treat people the way they do. I regretted not knowing his story. Now, I would never really know, and a part of me felt sickened for not having given him a chance. What was it about me, I wondered, that I didn’t take chances like that when it came to people? Walling myself off was comforting, though, and maybe I preferred a hell that I knew over going blind into relationships that I didn’t.

The train travelled through twists, turns, steep climbs and then a descending track that seemed to be going for miles on tracks of solid steel. As the train shook and rocked, I could only assume we were getting closer to the underground, so I allowed myself to get lulled to sleep, eagerly anticipating a better life than the one I had left behind; and now I had him to thank for that- that fat bast*rd.

~*~

I could feel the train jolting us forward when it came to a full stop. We arrived at an underground station that led to a double-wide, solid metal door. It looked like it had been made straight out of a fairytale castle with strange carvings on it. It was fastened by a long, steel bar that buckled both doors in place.  On top of that door was a placard with a message that read:

“To preserve humanity and win against the slave rulers of the unseen world…”

Such an odd statement for a study center, I thought.

The train conductor clapped with glee. “Our final passengers have arrived,” he said, speaking into a walkie radio.

“Did they all survive?” a female voice on the other side asked.

“We lost two,” he said.

“That’s too bad,” she answered.

The metal bar unlatched automatically, and the door panels slipped into their corresponding pockets of the stone wall, making a loud swish and clang sound as it opened.  

A woman appeared from behind the door, shadowed by a young girl who must have been in her mid-teens. Other people in white coats trailed behind her. Large men in tactical gear, carrying guns, followed them out. One, a rather large and stout man about six feet tall, chiseled chin and thick beard, clung to his weapon like it was glued to his muscular flexed arm. The metal pin on his shirt read “TJ Nash”. He seemed to be the one in charge, as he signaled the other men to run to the back of the train. I suppose he wanted to ensure no one else had followed us in. He looked jumpy and uneasy, as his eyes travelled in every direction and his muscle-flexed arms held on to his weapon like it was glued to his arm.

The woman spoke first. “Welcome, you’re the last from our group to make it to the underground…”—

“Skip the formalities and cut the crap, lady, what is really going on here? With all your hired muscle, it’s quite clear this is no science experiment.” Afghan Johnny never seemed to mince words. The man in lab coats peered above their glasses and scribbled notes on their little stainless-steel binders.

The woman took a step back and smiled. “You’re quite right, Mr. Stryker… this is what you have been led to believe…”

You are reading a reader-supported serialized novel tentatively due for release Winter 2024, by Indie Author Jax Cortez. To continue reading this chapter in full beyond this point, and subsequent new chapters, consider becoming a paid subscriber to help support her work. Thank you for visiting!