James Axler – Stoneface

Ryan lifted his blaster, but Mildred tugged at his arm. Her face was troubled. “This isn’t right, Ryan. Our plan was to try and strike a deal with the Commander, remember?”

“Yeah, but his rats might gnaw us to death before we reach him. If this is only one of their stations, shooting out one or two of these coolant containers shouldn’t putrefy the whole place, only show them what we can do if they screw around with us.”

Mildred hesitated, biting her lower lip, then nodded. “Do it. We can’t stay here much longer or we’ll freeze.”

Bringing the center of the nearest tube into target acquisition, Ryan squeezed the trigger of the SIG-Sauer. The report of the shot was completely swallowed up by the rush of the wintry wind, but the glass casing acquired a grayish smear. It didn’t break or even crack. It was armaglass, or something very close to it. He cursed and fired again, aiming at the same spot. He expended three more rounds before he saw a small network of cracks appear, and he fired twice more before a trickle of green fluid began sliding down the tube’s exterior and crawling down the conduit.

Immediately an overhead light went from white to red, and the beetles’ smooth, hovering motions became hurried and frantic.

“Their instruments have registered a drop in the coolant level,” Mildred shouted. “Time to go.”

They chose a shaft at random and were grateful for the lessening of the cold and the thunder of the fans. Squeezing through the passage, the darkness grew almost absolute. The lateral shaft terminated in another elbow joint, and Mildred wasn’t happy that it crooked downward rather than up.

“Makes sense, doesn’t it?” Ryan asked, squatting at the lip of the upside down L and reloading the SIG-Sauer.

“Yeah, I guess so. The air has to be circulated to all levels of the Anthill. I’m just not crazy about climbing down into God knows what.”

Putting his feet on the ladder rungs, Ryan replied, “Can’t figure that it’s much different than climbing up into God knows what.”

After a few minutes of hand-over-hand descent, the shaft terminated in another elbow, joining with a passageway branching off to the left. They were able to walk side by side along this one. As they did they passed several smaller openings. Judging by the icy drafts that blew out from them, there were a number of other subsidiary shafts connected to more circulating stations.

Presently they detected a faint radiance ahead, and as they went farther down the shaft, the light grew brighter and they heard a series of noises. Ryan was able to distinguish the humming of generators and the murmur of voices. A metal-meshed grille stood in front of them. They approached it in a crouch and peered through the screen.

They looked down on a miniature city. They saw buildings with foundations of brick and concrete, narrow paths twisting and turning between the squat structures. None of the buildings looked like they could comfortably fit a child, much less a full-grown adult. It looked like a model of a predark city, shrunk in volume and reduced in scale. In the center was an obelisk tower made of white stone, stretching upward about twenty-five feet.

Mildred caught her breath in surprise, but she said nothing. The city, if it could be called that, was empty and devoid of life, despite evidence to the contrary. Both of them had heard voices. Ryan pressed his face closer to the grille, looking from the left to the right. Almost directly below them was a metal pole, and topping the pole was a rectangular green sign with white lettering. He read it aloud “Pennsylvania Avenue.”

Running a hand across her forehead, Mildred said, “Sweet Jesus. It’s a scale model of Washington, D.C.” She pointed to a white-domed building about thirty yards away. “That’s supposed to be the Capitol Building, and that tower is the Washington Monument.”

Ryan shook his head. “A bastard weird hobby. These freezies have way too much time on their hands.”

“Crazy as shithouse rats,” Mildred intoned.

After waiting a few minutes and hearing nothing, they decided to move. Feeling around on the inside of the hatch cover, Ryan found a slide lock and he pushed the bolt aside. The hinges were stiff, and he had to launch several kicks at the frame before it creaked open. They were about twenty feet above the floor, but only five from the arched roof of a strange building supported by Doric columns. There was the statue of a seated man inside it.