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the bare stone walls and the concrete floor. They passed numerous chambers, all of them, with the exception of the charnel house they’d investigated, with their doors standing wide open. They looked in every one, but saw only a virtual repeat of the first few offices they’d checked in the Amt bunker: papers scattered everywhere, chairs and desks displaying signs of a hasty departure. The only rooms that were different were a canteen or dining room, the chairs and tables thick with dust, a serving counter at one end , and a couple of washrooms – male and female – equipped with sinks and toilet stalls. Then Charlotte spotted another closed door – in fact, a pair of double doors – though these weren’t bolted, just pushed shut. Rogan pulled them open, and they found themselves looking down a separate wide passageway that led off the tunnel they’d been following. At the far end , facing them, was a further pair of double doors, standing slightly ajar. On the left-hand side of the passageway were two more doors, and another one was set into the right-hand wall.

 

“What’s behind door no 1,” Charlotte said, but was not eager to find out after what they had just discovered.

 

Rogan and Charlotte strode down the passage and he pushed open the double doors. they stepped into a long low ceilinged room with rows of tables stretching away, the kind you would find in a morticians theatre. Each table had a lamp hanging from the ceiling above.

 

Charlotte aimed her torch at one of the tables. A patina of what looked like rust covered the surface.

 

“Is that...” She could not finish the sentence.

 

“Don’t look at it, c’mon, we’re wasting time with all this sightseeing. We need to find a way into the main complex.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER NINETEEN

 

Trotsky gear shifted, then slowly moved the

Trotsky gear shifted, then slowly moved the vehicle forward. The stream of bodies had dwindled. They had moved only a couple of yards when another crowd of people appeared in the tunnel.

Ba-boom!

They disappeared in a cloud of rocks and dust as the explosion ripped through the tunnel.

Bane pulled the professor down into the foot-well. A cloud of choking dust and debris enveloped the vehicle. The shock wave hit next, rocking them like a rowing boat on a stormy sea.

Bane’s ears rung from the explosive force. When the chaos seemed to have calmed, he sat up again. The tunnel was completely blocked. Koenig’s men had been killed by flying rocks, their bodies ripped asunder by the force of the blast. Bane realised if they had been any closer they would have bought the farm as well.

“Shit, what do we do now?” Trotsky said as he sat up.

Bane retrieved their weapons from the gap under his seat, and handed Trotsky his.

“Everybody out, there has to be another way up,” Bane said, as he climbed out.

They had walked halfway across the intervening space between the car and the side passage when the noise of people approaching made them stop. A group of men in white lab coats being led by an SS sergeant emerged from the passage to the left of the metal door. Trailing behind were four glum looking privates armed with machine guns.

The lab coats were separated into two groups. One was ushered onto the waiting lorries, the second group were herded through the now open door.

Two of the privates moved to cover the room.

Bane walked over to the sergeant.

“We’re trying to get to General Kammler, but they’ve blown the tunnel. We are not familiar with this complex, is there another way?”

The man indicated the passage he had emerged from.

“Sir, you must be mad going up there now, the Americans will soon be swarming all over us. Head through the medical room, you will find a lift in the corridor beyond.”

Bane thanked the man and returned to Trotsky, Jennifer and the professor.

“You’ll have to be quick though, they will be blowing that soon,” the man called out.

Bane waved a hand in thanks.

“Keep moving, follow me, this is nothing to do with us.”

As they entered the passage, Bane saw the two privates open the door and toss two grenades into the room.

They all heard the dull whump followed by muffled screams.

Bane noticed a small smile play across Trotsky’s lips.

“What’s tickled you?”

“I don’t mind when it’s Germans killing Germans. I gotta say though, I’m having a hard time stopping my trigger finger from twitching.”

“Well, try and keep a hold on it for now. We don’t know if what we do here will affect our future.”

They entered a short passage with a pair of doors at the far end. Bane pushed them open. They stepped into a low ceilinged room filled with row upon row upon row of metal tables. Bane estimated there was at least fifty tables. Some had bodies on them in various stages of autopsy. The coppery smell of blood and death was all pervading.

“What is this place?”

Jennifer put her hand over her nose and mouth.

“I think medical experiments may have been carried out down here, this is where the check out there effects,” the professor said.

“Lets not linger in here,” Bane said as he headed for a set of doors at the far end of the room.

Beyond the doors was another short corridor, the lift was halfway along.

The doors rattled open as they approached. Four men dressed in modern black combat gear stepped out. They saw the weapons Bane and Trotsky held and immediately raised their weapons.

 

Rogan pushed open the set of double doors, and stepped through into a short passage. Charlotte trailed behind him, trying not to think of the horrors the room behind her had witnessed.

He played his torch over the walls, revealing a multitude of bullet holes.

“At one time there was a hell of a gunfight in here,” Rogan said.

Charlotte’s boot kicked something across the floor. It tinkled as it rolled away. She shone her own torch around her. The light picked out a hand full of spent shells. She crouched, picking one up, she examined it under her torchlight.

“This is a 5.56 NATO round, but by the look of it it’s been down here for a long time, long before they came into being.”

“They probably came from some kind of training down here, how else would they come to be here?”

She found another metal shell casing.

“This one’s a 19mm Parabellum for a Heckler and Koch. In the research I did on the area, all the training took place above ground. Down here was deemed too dangerous.”

He took the shell from her. A frown spread across his face as he studied it.

“It certainly appears to be old, I’m no expert so I couldn't say,” he tossed the shell away and moved to a door halfway along the corridor.

“What if they made it?”

Rogan turned to look at her.

“What do you mean? What if who made it?”

“Morgan and the Omega team, what if Koenig went back, and they followed him?”

She stood looking at him, a quizzical look upon her face.

“You don’t believe all that time travel bull shit do you?”

“Koenig certainly did, he risked it big time, and Kammler's here now in our time, and younger than he should be.”

“Hmm, this is all supposition, and let’s say they did go back, they’d be stuck, and this place, if these bullets are from back then, this is where they could have died.”

“But what if they haven't died, Koenig had a plan to come back, and I do believe it is to this complex he will come. From what I’ve learned of Omega, they are resourceful, I think we need to move on the premise that they will come back. If they do, they’ll need our help, I think.”

Rogan nodded, and was about to turn away when a noise from further up the corridor froze him in place. Somebody had sneezed.

It came from behind a door at the far end.

They moved as one to the door.

Rogan put his ear to the door.

“Someone’s coming,” he whispered.

They extinguished their torches, and moved back into the darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

<<<<>>>>

Imprint

Text: Andrew Scorah
Images: Andrew Scorah
Publication Date: 05-19-2014

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
Dedicated to all those who dream with passion.

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