reached the dark altar where he would play his ritualistic games and
sacrifice the lamb. Jimmy, who was small and frightened and alone.
Whose dad was dead like mine. Whose mother would be forever withered by
grief if I failed her.
Patience. That is one of the great virtues God tries to teach us by
refusing to show Himself in this world. Patience.
Orson and I stood still and vigilant until well after the final echo of
the noise faded. Just as the subsequent silence grew long enough to make
me wonder if what we’d heard had any significance, a voice arose, deep
toned and angry, as muffled as the clang had been. One voice.
Not a conversation. A monologue. Someone talking to himself or to a
small, frightened captive who dared not reply. I couldn’t make out the
meaning, but the voice was as hollow and grumbly as that of a troll in a
fairy tale.
The speaker was neither approaching nor retreating, and clearly he was
not in this chamber with Orson and me. Before I was able to determine
the direction from which the growled words came, the troll fell silent.
Fort Wyvern has been closed only nineteen months, so I haven’t had time
to learn each niche of it as thoroughly as I’ve acquainted myself with
every cranny of Moonlight Bay. Thus far, I’ve confined most of my
explorations to the more mysterious precincts of the base, where I’m
most likely to encounter strange and intriguing sights. Of this
warehouse, I knew only that it was like the others in this cluster,
three stories high, with an open-beam ceiling, and composed of four
spaces the main rooms in which we stood, one office in the far right
corner, a matching room in the far left corner, and an open loft above
those offices.
I was sure that neither the sudden noise nor the voice had come from any
of those places.
I turned in a circle, frustrated by the impenetrable darkness.
It was as pitiless and unremitting as the black pall that will fall over
me if, one day, cumulative light damage plants the seeds of tumors in my
eyes.
A louder noise than the first, a resounding crash of metal against
metal, boomed through the building, giving rise to echoes that rolled
like a distant cannonade. This time I felt vibrations in the concrete
floor, suggesting that the source of the disturbance might be below the
main level of the warehouse.
Under certain buildings on the base lie secret realms that were
apparently unknown to the vast majority of the soldiers who conducted
the ordinary, reputable army business of Wyvern. Doors, once cunningly
disguised, led from basements down to subbasements, to deeper cellars,
to vaults far below the cellars. Many of these subterranean structures
are linked to others throughout the base by staircases, elevators, and
tunnels that would have been far less easy to detect before the
facility, prior to abandonment, was stripped of all supplies and
equipment.
Indeed, even with some of Wyvern’s secrets left exposed by its departing
stewards, my best discoveries would not have been possible without the
aid of my clever canine companion. His ability to detect even the
faintest fragrant drafts wafting through cracks from hidden rooms is as
impressive as his talent for riding a surfboard, though perhaps not as
impressive as his knack for occasionally wheedling a second beer from
his friends, like me, who know full well that he is incapable of
handling more than one.
Without question, this sprawling base harbors more installations that
remain well hidden, waiting to be revealed, nevertheless, as interesting
as my explorations have been, I’ve periodically refrained from them.
When I spend too much time in the shadow land under Fort Wyvern, its
disturbing atmosphere grows oppressive. I have seen enough to know that
this netherworld was the site of wide-ranging clandestine operations of
dubious wisdom, that numerous and diverse “black-budget” research
projects were surely conducted here, and that some of those projects
were so ambitious and exotic as to defy understanding based on the few
enigmatic clues that were left behind.
This knowledge alone, however, isn’t what makes me uncomfortable in