I’m not a thrill seeker. I spend most of my free time in a secluded comfort zone - usually in bed with my girlfriend. Having someone to love and hold is the only thing that doesn’t make me feel cold anymore. I am grateful for it, truly, I am. Sleep has never been so good for me and I can’t imagine it ever will be if I lose this.
Yet, there is no escaping some things. Not for me anyway.
There are nights I wake up and remember it so clearly that I think, just for a moment, I returned to that place beneath the ice. I can imagine the concrete ground, the thin walls, and the cold steel beams. I can hear the straining ceiling and the distant ruptures.
I can only really make sense if I start at the beginning.
Four years ago, I went to the North Pole with a friend of mine, whom we will call Jake. Jake was the thrill seeker. He had the personality, not so much the funds, to pursue the next big thrill. Whenever he had enough cash to fund his latest impulse, he would spend it. It was no surprise to me, or anyone who knew him, that his relationships were often short-lived.
He was attracted to the same kind of people, but impulsive people rarely hold onto their values. He was cheated on many times, and before you feel sorry for him, he cheated on women many times. Eventually, it reached a point where his friends could be counted on one hand. Against my better judgment, I was one of those friends.
He called me up one day to tell me about this big opportunity to see polar bears in Northern Canada. I was interested. Spending all my life in England, I never went further in this world than Scotland, which turned out to be as equally miserable as the city I was living in. I had free days I wanted to take advantage of and my life just felt like it was going nowhere - in short, I was feeling weak and impulsive.
It didn’t take much convincing for me to bite the bullet. Jake screwed up most of his life, but at least he had some good photos to show for it. I needed something like that to look back on, even if it filled me with regret.
“Screw it,” I said as I facetimed him. “Let’s go see some polar bears.”
“Hell yeah,” Jake said. “We leave tomorrow.”
“What? I need to get tickets!”
“All covered. A guy I met will fly us there, only a small stop in Greenland, then we will bounce to Canada. Or skip, whatever. Pack warm, but pack light.”
“Oh, shit, I think I have some clean clothes…when will you pick me up?”
“About two in the morning,” Jakse said as if that didn’t make my heart drop already. “Plane leaves at three-thirty, so, yeah.”
*
Taking the cheap, easy route isn’t always legal. The less said about the flight arrangements the better. I just trusted the fact that nobody would check our passports when we arrived, and luckily, they didn’t. I guess if you know people, there are a lot of things that are never checked or recorded.
One thing I knew for sure, I would be going back the usual way. The plane we were in was like a small mail plane. Just boxes of envelopes, and hard cases. It was also cold. No proper insulation, no proper seats. We spent our flight shaking in blankets that Jake’s friend gave us.
Once off the plane, we were guided through the small airport until we made it into the town itself. Free and ready to find transport to our first destination. I let Jake guide me the whole way and I will say this much, he knew how to make it look like it was all planned.
We found a nice place to stay, we saw the polar bears, and we saw beautiful mountains and forests. I guess I never really knew anything about Canada. I just imagined cold, gray cities with cold, gray people.
“Nah, that’s Eastern Europe,” he told me. “Canada is great. Good food, friendly people, beautiful country…if you go to the right places.”
“Speaking of which,” I said as I looked through the photos I took at the polar bear reserve. “Where to after this? I have two more free days until I have to go back to work.”
“Hmm, can’t you call in sick after that? There’s still time to warm up in Mexico, mi amigo.”
“Jake, por favor, no more sketchy flights. Let’s just make the most of tomorrow, then let’s head home, okay?”
“There’s nothing really in range, you know? I mean, we could try ice-fishing in this cabin my old girlfriend has. Ah, better still, we can rent some snowboards, go to the-”
“I will take the ice-fishing, thank you.”
*
It was chaos. Not being locals, we didn’t pay attention to warning signs, or the news. We rented a truck with these chains wrapped around the tires and started our journey towards the cabin. The weather was ballistic, and visibility was low. The whole time I was worrying if we would ever make it back to the town we left, let alone the cabin.
Jake tried to stay upbeat about it, but it was clear he was worried as well.
We turned off real roads onto a dirt path through the forest, but that too was getting covered in thick snow. We listened to the radio, mostly country rock which would only be played in lousy bars. It did little to ease my nerves. I just kept refreshing the news portion on my phone, hoping a connection would get through.
“We should be there soon,” Jake said with a smile, turning the truck just in time to avoid a tree. “I recognize this area.”
“So do I,” I muttered. “I’ve been seeing snow-covered forest for the past twenty minutes.”
My words must have started it. Light sarcasm to break the Karma camel’s back. The truck continued for a few more seconds then there was this sudden, lurching drop. The side of the trick I was on dipped noticeably, then rose before it ground to a halt. I looked at Jake and he looked at me.
I sat back as he tried to get the truck to keep going, but it was beached on something and the ground was too slippery. It needed all four wheels on the ground and the back left tire. We both got out of the truck, the sheer wind cutting through our jackets as we walked to the back and examined the large rock. It was jagged, its point pressing against the frame, but not by much.
“Just need a little lift and it will get off,” I said.
“A careful lift,” Jake clarified. “I didn’t pay the insurance.”
“Why do you care? You didn’t show them any ID and paid in cash.”
“I actually did show them my ID…it was necessary, you know?”
Jake looked at me nervously. My face felt that much colder.
“What happened to not leaving a paper trail?” I questioned him.
There wasn’t any time to shout at him. We had to get the truck off the rock. Luckily, the rental place didn’t just give us chain-bound tires, which seemed to be clumped up with snow, but they also had a tool kit in the back of the truck. I took the largest piece of metal, a pry bar, and wedged it between the rock and truck frame.
With as much patience as I could muster, I told Jake to pump the accelerator a little, so the truck didn’t roll back. Being squashed by the red behemoth was the last thing I wanted.
So, that’s what we did. Being as strong as I was, I lifted the truck just enough that the two front wheels were able to pull the truck forward. The weight slipped off the pry bar so suddenly that I almost fell forward. The truck dropped, the frame hit the tip of the rock but bounced forward.
Out of sheer fear, I stumbled back, the brutal crunch of that metal on rock made my heart jump. I saw the truck on all four tires as I stumbled back. I think I even heard Jake’s whooping over the roar of the storm. As my ass hit the ground, I felt an emptiness to my right. I tried to place my hand there, thinking there was ground to keep me steady, but all I did was shirt my weight the wrong way.
I fell into darkness. I heard the whistle of wind above me, but also the rush around my ears as I fell. I heard the clattering of metal. The pry bar fell with me. A dull thunk. My leg hit something, causing me to twist. Then I hit the ground. All of this happened in the space of a few seconds, each second I was in such shock I didn’t react.
And then I couldn’t.
*
I woke up to a shooting pain in my right leg that seemed to run up my side as well. My head didn’t feel sore, but it wasn’t easy getting up either. It felt like my insides were just one fragile piece of pasta, waiting for that pressure to make it all snap. Yet, I willed myself to sit up and look around, as well as remind myself to breathe.
With that first painful inhale, my teeth ached and my tongue was dry. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw I was in a tunnel. The walls and ceiling curved into each other, making this half-moon shape against the flat concerted ground. Steel struts added to the support, and separated the rooms that diverged away from the tunnel I was in.
I saw lights far ahead, a glowing speck in the distance. I instinctively reached for my pocket to get my cell phone to use the flashlight, but that was nowhere to be found, I recalled leaving it in the truck to charge.
I sat there for a moment, energy fast returning, but all of it focused on my growing panic.
I had fallen. I could see the hole in the roof above, but I couldn’t see the surface. Water droplets dripped onto and around me. In a hoarse voice, I called up but received no response. I couldn’t even hear the blizzard. What I did hear was creaking and cracking.
The panic told me to stand up. My foot bumped the pry bar that fell with me. I picked it up and started walking towards the distant light. The whole tunnel seemed to make those unsettling noises, but otherwise, it was silent. My footsteps were the only accompaniment. My eyes searched the darkness for something as I walked, my logic-bound mind seeking something that could help me - like a phone.
When I couldn’t see one, I started inventing reasons for the tunnel I was in. Old subway? It didn’t look like one. Part of the infrastructure, like a sewer or electrical thing? No, that was crazy - it looked too good for either of those. Old war bunker? I doubt the Canadians built something so large during the war.
After who knows how many minutes, I heard something collapse and it shook the tunnel. Looking back, I could make out concrete falling, and steel struts snapping and buckling, right where I sat. The tunnel was struggling and losing. Section-by-section, it was caving in towards me. I wasn’t slow to start. I ran for my life.
I don’t know how movies could get the sensation so wrong. You don’t have time to scream and run. You could only do one effectively, and obviously, it was the latter. I ran until I reached the light, the collapse only increasing in speed, catching up to me. I tried to turn the corner sharply, but I only ended up slipping.
My head bounced off the ground and fear pushed me to my feet again as I ran down a lit tunnel. The collapse reached the corner, but that’s where it stopped. When the ground no longer shook, when that rumble faded, I looked back to see the wave of dust settle. The way back was gone.
I was standing in a new section of the tunnel, which was much more like a maze of hospital hallways. The fact the lights were on made me hopeful, but not as much as a green exit sign hanging from the ceiling in one hallway.
Sweating, I took off my huge puffy jacket and folded it under my arm. With the pry bar in my other hand, I started my fast walk towards the way out.
*
I drank from a water cooler. The dust and cobwebs that covered it told me how long the place had been abandoned, yet the lights told me that it still had power. Did those who built the place forget about it? Or was there some long-lasting backup power system?
I passed by several empty offices, labs, and even surgery rooms, with weird observation rooms above them. I know now that it’s common for students and even family members to observe a surgery, but I was thinking of something else at that moment.
And when I say these rooms were empty, I mean it. A desk, a few shelves, some tables and hospital bed frames, and no mattresses, were all that filled the space.
There is only one exception - the rooms I couldn’t get into. There were these keycard-protected doors, with some heavy-duty bars braced against them. Bolts kept those doors together, not screws. On everyone was a gas mask symbol. Air-tight chambers for different kinds of experiments, I guess.
While I searched, I continued to hear the groan of the pressure above. At least it sounded much more stable, so I didn’t have to worry about a mountain falling on top of me.
My only concern was how long it took me to reach the exit. I kept following the signs. I wasn’t going in circles - the rooms to my sides were different.
I tried to not let my imagination play tricks on me. Like making sounds that weren’t there, or that I saw people, maybe even a head, staring at me from around a distant corner. That seemed to happen a lot more than I care to admit.
What settled my thoughts was an obstacle.
A door with chains, but not on my side. I could see through a narrow window the heavy chains that kept the handle in place, the massive lock that was used. I opened the door as much as I could - it was just enough to fit my pry bar.
I looked around. The sound of the metal echoed, but I didn’t see anything. The hallway to my left - empty. The hallway to the right - empty. The hallway I came from had a single flickering light and a few of those rooms I couldn’t open, but it was empty too. I dug the pry bar and tried to find a good position to use it. I made the mistake of trying some sort of levering to snap a chain, but what worked was twisting it into a tight position first, then prying at a single link.
It still took a while and I worked up a sweat, but the link broke. Gravity pulled the chains down with a clatter. I pulled the door open and stepped into a stairwell. I was at the top. The exit sign was pointing down.
“No,” I remembered the word escaping my lips. That was the first thing that didn’t make sense to me.
Why would the exit be deeper into the facility? I didn’t think about it for too long. It was still the only way I could see, so I took it. I started my journey down the steps. I passed several keycard-protected doors on my way down, nothing that I could open. With each one I saw, I was afraid that the exit would be behind another keycard-protected door.
My descent was gradual enough that I could let those worries slip to the back of my mind. I would say it was close to fifty levels below where I started when the lights turned off.
I didn’t notice the hum of the facility until it stopped. In darkness, I had to use the glow-in-the-dark strips on the ground and walls to keep me from stumbling. I could still see the keycard-protected doors, their card reader screens still running on some kind of backup power, because they were lit even then.
I was approaching one when I saw the screen shift for a brief second to a green tone, before going black. Before power ran out completely, a mechanical sound could be heard and there was the sound of the seal around the door being broken. The door shifted open slightly as the seal broke but went no further.
My heart was pounding. The door appeared so much darker, the yellow gas mask symbol looking a lot more threatening.
I became painfully aware of how loud my steps were when I heard something shift beyond the door. My mouth was open, my breath halted right at the start of my throat. I didn’t want to be found, I didn’t want to be heard. I didn’t feel alone anymore. My jacket made a sound I didn’t like, so I put it down, abandoning it completely. While I was kneeling, I also took off my shoes and continued forward in socks. I held my shoes in my left hand, while my right hand held the pry bar like a club.
I passed by several more doors, some regular, but locked. I didn’t reach the bottom before I found a door with a green exit sign above it, the words themselves glowing in the dark. I looked through the vertical window and saw a glimmer of light. I reached for the handle and pulled it open - no locks.
I stepped into a subway system, although a lot smaller. There was no mistaking what I was looking at - a train, a tunnel, and even the crappy tiles that covered most subway walls and pillars.
The train sat there, empty, with the doors open, but its lights were on.
I breathed a sigh.
Click.
It was the smallest sound. The sound of a door being pushed just a little before the frame stopped it. I turned around to look at the door, more specifically, the window in the middle of the door. A face pressed against the glass, too dark to identify even with the lights from the train. Yet, I could see its eyes, and those eyes told me that it wasn’t human.
Reflective, like that of some kind of predator. Those eyes were so glossy, yet murky, they reminded me of a fish’s eyes. I took one step back, my breathing halted by shock now. I whined as I coughed to breathe. My body never struggled that much to function since I was a kid.
It got a lot worse when the creature hit the door. It wanted to get through. I count myself as one of the luckiest guys in history and the door was one of those push-pull doors. The sound of its strikes grew louder, encouraging me to move faster as I ran towards the train.
Once inside, I saw that the seats and everything were bare minimum. Public transport looked better than what I was standing in. I ignored the fact it reminded me of the plane I shivered in to get to Canada and just ran towards the controls at the front.
The driver’s seat was a basic metal chair, with a set of flick-button controls, levers, and a number system I didn’t understand. I played with the dial and the number changed, counting up and down, the lowest being five and the highest being fifty-five.
I was panicking, my hand dancing above the controls, not sure what to do. I heard something breaking. I don’t know if it was the door or the frame it was attached to. I just knew that whatever was beyond it was out.
I saw a button with the door symbols. I pushed it and watched the train doors shut. The soft sound of the rubber seals meeting was comforting, but not the sound of fleshy thumps hitting the doors.
I turned back to the controls, scanning them again, then noticing a paper stuck to the wall. It was an information stick, mostly torn and rubbed away. I saw rows and scratched out names and numbers. Only one remained - a set of numbers saying forty-five. It was all I had, so I trusted my life to it.
I played with the dial until the number said forty-five.
I then started pulling levers and pushing buttons. I found more buttons on the side of the panel as well. I was cautious about some, but the sound of glass breaking pushed me to take a chance on them.
The train hummed to life and then lurched forward. When I turned around, I saw the door closest to me shaking, being slowly pried open. I dropped my shoes and approached it with my pry bar. Hands curled around the inside of the sliding doors, if they could be called hands. It was like a pair of talons, two dark, bone-like hooks for fingers.
With the realization that I was going to die if I didn’t do something, I lifted the pry bar and started beating on the claws. I heard a scream, bird-like, it reminded me of an eagle. It was being drowned out by the sound of the train’s grinding wheels. The train sounded like it was struggling.
I didn’t have time to address it. The door opened a little wider and an entire arm thrust inside and reached for me. One of the claws scratched the back of my hand. It was trying to grab for me and hitting it with the pry bar didn’t work. I shifted the position in my hand and brought the jagged part down towards its forearm.
The metal wasn’t razor sharp, but still sharp enough to break the scaled skin of the creature. The screeching scream was much louder and it withdrew its arm. I turned back to the controls, trying to make sense of why the train wasn’t going any faster. I then noticed a lever that wasn’t all the way up. Pushing it, I realized it was the brake lever and the train sped up. I heard thumps all along the train going towards the back, and small screams all the way.
I tried catching my breath. The only sounds I heard were that of the train charging onward. I looked back at the controls and saw that small metal slides shifted into place, locking levers and hiding buttons. A digital screen above the dial lit up with the words, “DESTINATION SET.”
I sat down on the ground and everything hit me at once. I yelled to let it all out until I was left with small cries that bubbled up with my breathing. I just felt tiny. I was tired, hungry, and sore. Those small cries were my only relief.
*
It was a long train ride - a few days. I found a trash box at the end of the train, which contained mostly little, but I found a couple of bottles that still had water and stale soda in them - one orange soda bottle that was half-full.
It tasted awful, it made me feel a little sick, but I was desperate.
I tried stopping, but it was impossible. I would break the controls before I got them to do what I wanted. I could wait and hope that I was still alive when it stopped. When it finally did, I didn’t dare touch any other controls than the one that opened the doors. I stepped out and saw what appeared to be the same station I left days before.
I approached a push-pull door, pushing it open, and saw a set of stairs. I climbed the stairs, not seeing any sealed doors. I kept going to the top, following a dark hallway until I came to a set of doors locked with chains. I used the pry bar, the end of which was stained with a black gunk, to break a link.
More hallways, more doors, and a feeling of dread settling in my stomach. I then breathed what had to be fresh air. I had climbed another set of stairs, then a ladder, finally opening some kind of trap door that was left ajar. My hands touched sand, dry grass, and rocks - but mostly sand.
I climbed out into an open desert, the night sky practically shining compared to the dark I had to trudge through. I saw a distant car driving away - a road. I walked towards it. I walked and walked until I was following the road.
*
I woke up in the bed I sleep in now.
A woman, a brother, and her mother found me on the side of the road. A true, honest, loving family that nursed me to health and I didn’t understand a word they said. They spoke Spanish. I was in Mexico. The train took me to Mexico. No wonder it took so many days.
And here I have remained for the past four years. I learned the language, mostly from the woman who found me. We grew close. Close enough to make me want to stay instead of returning home, then so close that I never wanted to leave.
I contacted Jake and told him I was still alive. He visited me to make sure it was me. Technically, I shouldn’t be here, but I shouldn’t have been in Canada, the Arctic, or that underground facility either.
I am happy here. I’m happier than I was in dreary England, although I do sometimes miss it.
I’m leaving this experience with you. Maybe with it out there, someone else can take it off of me. Maybe just talking about it like this will be enough to help me escape those nightmares.