Lemuria by Burt Clinchandhill (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📗

here. I suggest we get out of here. Was this the end destination in the GPS?”

Bishop took the satellite phone from his pocket and turned it on. “No. The flag is about two hundred feet up that way.” He pointed down the slope and to the left.

“There’s a path,” De Cremonese pointed out.

Bishop slid downhill. He rose again when he reached the path.

De Cremonese arrived seconds after him. “Yeah,” De Cremonese softly cried out. “That was fun.”

Bishop grinned and started walking the path.

“I saw it with my own eyes. Otherwise, I would never have believed it.” De Cremonese sighed.

“Weird things are going on here on this island, Father.”

“You can say that again.”

Bishop looked at the GPS screen. “Just behind these trees,” he pointed out. “Around this corner,” he whispered as he slowed down.

They followed the path around the trees and looked up ahead. They both froze. The trail led further into the forest for as far as they could see, at least a few hundred feet.

“What...?” De Cremonese uttered.

Bishop shrugged and took one step further onto the path.

The ground in front of them began to tremble. Both men took a few steps back. The grass on the track started to shake, and a large hatch opened up from the ground, like a colossal frog’s mouth. A large gap had opened in the earth when the trembling stopped. Both men were frozen to the ground.

“You have reached your destination,” Lea said from the phone in Bishop’s hand.

Startled, he dropped it.

“I didn’t expect that.” De Cremonese picked up the phone and handed it to Bishop.

When the sound of the hatch opening had dissipated entirely, the two men stepped forward to the edge of the large hole that had materialized. A three-foot-wide staircase next to a ramp led down into darkness.

“What do you think?” De Cremonese asked.

“I think there’s no turning back now.”

De Cremonese nodded.

They took their first steps down. With every step, a bright light lit up directly in front of them, while the end remained dark.

De Cremonese looked back and saw the hatch—now twenty feet above them—slowly closing. “Let’s move on.”

Just as Bishop stepped from the staircase onto a concrete floor, the hatch closed with a loud thud. A long corridor ahead of them lit up. The gray hallway was doorless and windowless. The ceiling was covered with white glowing tiles, lighting the corridor in a creepy way. Bishop cautiously took his first steps into the corridor, closely followed by De Cremonese.

“What’s that?” De Cremonese rhetorically asked when a tremble shook the concrete beneath their feet. “The hatch again?”

Bishop felt the walls. “I don’t think so. It’s everywhere. I’ve no idea where it’s coming from.”

“It must be heavy machinery to shake a concrete structure like this.” De Cremonese looked at the vibrating lights in the ceiling.

“Come on,” Bishop urged as he picked up the pace to the end of the hallway. There was only a left turn. Another thirty feet of empty corridor without anything else but gray walls. Without interruption, they followed the path. At the end, Bishop raised a hand and stopped before turning the next corner to the right.

“What is it?” De Cremonese whispered. A clank followed a sharp squeak. “A door?”

When it was silent again, Bishop quickly stuck his head around the corner. Tiptoeing, he took a step into the next corridor and waved to De Cremonese, who followed quietly. The following passage was different. On the left and right were windows and doors. Bishop stopped at the first window to the left. The window looked outside over green shrubs with a cloudy sky. In the distance, the edge of the island dropped into the sea.

“That....” De Cremonese paused.

“Can only be another clever illusion,” Bishop finished. “We’re at least twenty feet underground.”

De Cremonese touched the window. “You gotta admit it’s fascinating.”

Bishop led the way to the next door. On the left side of the corridor was another gray steel door—like the other doors in the hallway—with a glass porthole in it. Beneath the window was a wheel, like those on submarine doors, which functioned as a handle.

Bishop looked through the porthole. “Looks like a storage room for food,” Bishop suggested.

De Cremonese passed a door to the right. “Same here.”

They passed another three doors, all containing supplies, before they came to the end of the hallway.

“Left or right?” De Cremonese asked, looking from one direction to the other.

Both corridors looked the same—about twenty feet long, without doors, windows or decorations, and both ending with another door fitted with a porthole and a wheel.

“You want to split up?” Bishop asked.

“You think that’s wise?”

Bishop shook his head profoundly. “No. But they always do that in the movies, so I thought I should ask.”

“And look at how that always turns out.” De Cremonese grinned. “This way?” He started moving into the right corridor without waiting for an answer.

“All righty then,” Bishop spoke softly.

At the end of the corridor, De Cremonese cautiously walked to the porthole and looked through. Another short hallway turned right at the end. “You wanna go in?”

“Let’s try the other one first,” Bishop suggested, then turned and walked fast toward the other door.

De Cremonese tried to keep up without making any unwanted noises.

In a few big steps, Bishop was almost at the other side when he saw a light shimmering through the porthole. He turned to De Cremonese and put a finger to his mouth. “There are voices on the other side,” Bishop whispered. As both men crawled to the porthole, someone passed the window, freezing the two on the spot.

“Shit.” De Cremonese sighed.

“You can say that again, Father,” Bishop confirmed.

“Sorry.” De Cremonese shrugged and tightened his lips. “I’m not used to this kind of excitement.”

“Neither am I, Father. Although, I’ve gained some experience over the past years.” He slowly moved his head back to the porthole and carefully peeked in. “Wow,” he said softly as he waved for De Cremonese to join him.

On the other side of the window, a control room materialized. Behind every desk, someone