Abduction

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was slow going. At one point, Perry slipped and fell back into the mire. He was covered with the ooze.

“The first thing I’m going to do is demand a shower,” Perry sputtered trying to lighten the mood. He was not successful. No one responded.

As they approached the open door, they hoped that their misgivings would be allayed. But no welcoming figures appeared at the threshold, and the light spilling out into the darkness was so bright they were unable to see inside. It was even difficult to look at the opening without shielding their eyes.

When they got close enough, they could appreciate that the door was almost two feet thick with a ring of huge throw bolts countersunk into its periphery. It looked like a door to a vault. The edges of the massive portal were angled in. It was obviously constructed to withstand the enormous pressure of seawater flooding the cavern.

At about twenty-five feet from the wall Suzanne and Perry stopped. They were reluctant to proceed without a clearer idea of what they were getting into. They studied the door for clues. From what they could tell, it appeared as if the walls, floor, and ceiling within were constructed of stainless steel that gleamed like mirrors.

Donald had continued ahead on his own, and although he did not step over the threshold, he leaned in. With his forearm acting as a shield against the reflected light, he surveyed the room.

“Well?” Suzanne called. “What do you see?”

“It’s a large, square room made out of metal,” Donald yelled back over his shoulder. “There’s a couple of huge shiny balls in it but nothing else. There also doesn’t appear to be any door except this entrance. And I can’t tell where the light is coming from.”

“Any sign of people?” Perry asked.

“That’s a negative,” Donald said. “Hey, I think the balls are made of glass. And they must be four to five feet in diameter. Come and take a look!”

Perry glanced at Suzanne. He shrugged. “Why put off the inevitable?”

Suzanne was gripping her arms. She shuddered. “I was hoping by the time we got over here I’d have a better feeling about all this, but I don’t. This can’t be a submarine base. We’re talking about an engineering feat that would make building the Great Pyramid seem like a walk in the park.”

“Then what do you think it is?” Perry questioned.

Suzanne turned to look back toward the submersible. The light from the open door was illuminating it despite the distance. Beyond it was blackness. “I truly have no clue.”

When Donald saw that Suzanne and Perry were looking back at the submersible, he went ahead and stepped over the threshold into the room. Immediately he put his hands out to balance himself to keep from falling. A combination of the wet mud on his shoes and the polished metal made the floor as slippery as ice.

Once he had his equilibrium Donald again scanned the room. Now that his eyes had partially adjusted he could see much better, including hundreds of reflections of himself in all directions. The walls, floor, and ceiling were seamless. The only apparent door was the one he’d entered through. He specifically searched for a source of the dazzling light but mysteriously could not find any. When his line of sight took in the huge glass balls, he did a double take. He was now able to appreciate that the glass was not entirely opaque. They were clear enough to just make out what was inside.

“Suzanne, Perry!” Donald yelled. “There are a couple of people in here after all. But they’re sealed inside glass spheres. Get in here!”

A moment later Suzanne and Perry appeared at the door.

“Careful about the floor!” Donald warned. “It’s as slick as ice.”

Sliding their feet in short movements as if skating without skates, Suzanne and Perry staggered over to Donald’s side, eager for a better look at the glass spheres.

“My word!” Suzanne exclaimed. “They’re floating around in some kind of fluid.”

“Do you recognize them?” Donald asked.

“Should I?” Suzanne responded.

“I think I do,” Donald said. “I think it’s two of our divers.”

Suzanne stared at Donald in disbelief. Then, to get a better look, she cupped her hands around her eyes and leaned against one of the spheres, the surface so opalescent it reflected the room’s bright illumination.

“I think you’re right,” Suzanne said. “I can just make out the Benthic Explorer logo on the neoprene suit and the side of the helmet.”

Perry mimicked Suzanne by shielding his eyes with his hands and pressing them against the same sphere Suzanne was gazing into. Donald did likewise from another angle.

“He’s breathing!” Perry said. “He must be alive.”

“There’s something like an umbilical cord coming from some kind of device pressed up against his abdomen,” Suzanne said. “Can anybody see where it goes?”

“It goes under him,” Donald said. “To the base of the container.”

Suzanne moved away enough to allow her to bend down. The sphere had a flat area on which it sat. She did not see any penetrations, and if there were any they would have come directly through the floor.

“This is as astounding as the cavern,” Suzanne said while regaining her feet. She reached out and touched the sphere with the tip of her index finger. The material looked like glass but she was not sure what it was.

The others straightened up.

“How on earth did they get here?” Perry asked.

“A lot of questions,” Donald said, “and very few answers.”

“Are you still thinking this is some kind of military installation?” Suzanne asked Donald.

“What else could it be?” Donald demanded defensively.

“If these divers are alive in these spheres, I can’t even guess what the technology is,” Suzanne said. “They look like a couple of giant embryos. Not that I can explain the cavern either. Even this room is a step beyond.”

“Beyond what?” Donald asked.

“The door!” Perry cried.

All eyes shot to the entrance. The massive door was silently closing.

Frantically the three tried to rush back to it to keep it from sealing them in, but the slippery floor hindered their progress. By the time they arrived the door was almost closed. Collectively they leaned against it to force it back open, but with its mass and the slick floor it was a useless endeavor. With a resounding thud the door closed. Then they heard the muffled mechanical sound of the numerous throw bolts sliding into place.

With renewed sense of terror the three moved away from the door.

“Somebody is controlling all this,” Suzanne said gravely. Her worried eyes swept around the seamless room. “And now we are trapped.”

“It’s got to be Russians,” Donald said.

“Enough about the Russians!” Suzanne shouted. “You were in the military too long. You see everything in terms of yesterday’s hostilities. This isn’t about Russians.”

“How do you know?” Donald yelled back. “And don’t you dare denigrate my service to my country.”

“Oh, please!” Suzanne intoned. “I’m not disparaging your naval service. But look around, Donald! This isn’t anything earthly. Look at the light, for goodness’ sake.” Suzanne held out her hand. “There’s no light source, but the illumination is totally even. And there’s no shadow.”

Perry held out his hands and tried to form shadows, but it was impossible. Donald watched but did not try it himself.

“It’s a uniform photon flux that must be penetrating these walls somehow,” Suzanne said. “And if I had to guess I’d say there was a significant ultraviolet component.”

“How can you tell?” Perry said.

“I can’t,” Suzanne admitted. “Not for sure since the human eye doesn’t pick up ultraviolet, but to my mind there’s a definite distortion of the blue of our coveralls and the maroon of your jogging suit.”

Perry looked down at his clothing. To him the color was the same as it always had been.

“The spheres!” Donald yelled.

All eyes shifted to the glass balls. Their opalescence had suddenly and dramatically increased so that they were glowing. A moment later there was a cracking sound, and beginning at both apices the spheres opened like enormous flowers losing their petals. With a gush of fluid the divers spilled out onto the floor.

Donald was the first to overcome his shock. As quickly as he could, he rushed to Richard’s side. Realizing the unconscious diver was trying to breathe, Donald pulled off the man’s helmet and tossed it aside. Richard coughed violently.

Perry rushed to Michael. While he removed Michael’s helmet he could hear Richard’s coughing. Michael, however, was not even breathing. Calling upon his CPR training, Perry knew what to do. First he hauled Michael from the debris of the collapsed sphere, pulling his still attached umbilical with him. After a quick check to make sure the diver’s mouth was clear, he pinched his nostrils closed, took a breath, and gave Michael a lungful of air. Turning his head to the side, Perry took another breath. He was about to repeat the cycle when he noticed that Michael’s eyes were open.

“What the hell are you doing, man!” Michael questioned. He pushed Perry’s face away, which was inches from his own.

“I was doing mouth-to-mouth,” Perry said. He got to his feet. “I didn’t think you were breathing.”

“I’m breathing!” Michael insisted. He made a face of disgust and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Believe me, I’m breathing.”

Richard’s coughing jag came to an abrupt end, and he blinked away the tears it had brought on. His first concern was Michael. When he saw that his buddy was alive and well, he glanced around the room before looking up at the others.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “What happened?”

“That’s the million-dollar question,” Perry answered.

“Where the hell are we?” Richard asked. His eyes took a second quick dash around the room. A perplexed expression clouded his face.

“An equally interesting question,” Perry said.

“Were you looking for us on your dive?” Donald asked Richard.

For a moment Richard merely looked confused. Then Donald’s question helped restore his memory. “Oh, my god!” he cried. “We were on a nearly thousand-foot sat dive! We didn’t decompress!” Richard struggled to his feet. His legs were wobbly, especially on the slippery floor. “Michael, we’ve got to get into the DDC!”

“Take it easy!” Donald said. He grabbed Richard around the upper arm to calm him and keep him from falling. “There’s no DDC here. Besides, you’re all right. Obviously you don’t have the bends.”

Richard’s confusion deepened. He extended his legs and his arms to check his joints. Blinking repeatedly, he looked around the room again, and while doing so noticed the umbilical connecting him to the base of the collapsed sphere. “What the hell is this?” he demanded. He grasped the composite group of hoses and wires and immediately let go. His lips curled in revulsion. “Jeez, it feels soft, like I’m holding someone’s intestines.”

“It has to be some kind of life support,” Suzanne said, speaking up for the first time since the divers had emerged from their shells. “Considering the shape you’re in without decompressing, I guess it had something to do with that as well.”

Richard gingerly touched the device attached to his stomach. It was the size and shape of the head of a toilet plunger. As soon as he touched it, it detached. Catching it in his hand, he looked at its business end. To his horror a series of wormlike appendages protruded from it, their wriggling heads soaked in blood-his blood.

“Ah!” Richard cried. He dropped the device, which quickly retracted into the base of the flattened sphere like a disappearing vacuum cleaner cord. In a panic Richard unzipped the front of his neoprene suit down to his pubis. When he looked at his stomach he cried out again. There were six puncture wounds in a circular pattern around his navel.

After watching Richard, Michael struggled to his feet and hesitantly looked down at his own stomach. He was dismayed to see a similar apparatus. With an expression mirroring Richard’s, he reluctantly touched it with his index finger. To his relief it immediately detached and retracted. Opening his dive suit he found the same peculiar pattern of oozing stab wounds around his umbilicus.

“Holy crap!” Michael voiced. “It looks like we were stabbed a bunch of times with an ice pick.” He shivered. “I can’t stand blood.”

Richard zipped his suit back up and then tried to take a few steps on shaky legs. He reached out and supported himself against the wall. “Man, I feel like I’ve been drugged.”

“I feel like I was run over with a goddamn truck,” Michael said.

“Where’s Mazzola?” Richard asked.

“We wouldn’t have any idea,” Donald said. “What happened during your dive?”

Richard scratched the back of his head. At first all he could remember was getting into the DDC for the compression, but then, with Michael’s participation, they both were able to remember sketchy details of the descent in the bell and entering the water.

“Is that it?” Donald asked. “Nothing after you left the bell?”

Richard nodded. Michael did the same.

“How come you guys all look like you’ve been in a pigpen?” Richard asked. He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he looked more closely at the walls. “What is this, some kind of hospital or something?”

“It’s no hospital,” Donald said. “We can’t tell you much else other than how we got here, but that includes how we got dirty.”

“That’s a start,” Richard said. “Fire away!”

Donald explained while the two divers slouched against the wall. It was a hard story to swallow, and their eyes narrowed in disbelief.

“Oh, come on!” Richard scoffed. “What is this? Some kind of a put-on?” He regarded the trio with suspicion. This had to be a prank. Michael nodded in agreement.

“This is no put-on,” Donald assured him.

“Just look around this room,” Suzanne said.

“Listen!” Donald said, trying to be patient. “Can’t either of you remember anything about how you got here? Didn’t you see anybody?”

Richard shook his head. With his foot he pushed around the deflated segments of the sphere. The material was now limp instead of rigid and brittle. “Are you serious about us being inside this stuff? You said it looked like glass. It sure doesn’t now.”

“It did just a short time ago,” Suzanne assured him.

“What we think is that this is a Russian submarine base,” Donald continued.

“Correction!” Suzanne interrupted. “That’s what you think.”

“Russians?” Richard echoed. “No shit!” He visibly straightened up. He looked around the room with renewed interest, as did Michael. Both put their hands against the highly polished walls. Richard rapped on the glossy surface with his knuckle. “What is this stuff anyway, titanium?”

Suzanne started to answer but was interrupted by a hissing noise. Everyone looked back to the locations where the spheres had stood. A vapor billowed out of the exposed holes. Quickly an acrid smell pervaded the sealed chamber, and everyone’s eyes began to tear.

“We’re being gassed!” Suzanne cried before she was overcome by violent coughs.

The group shrank back in terror, pressing themselves against the cold metal walls in a vain attempt to get away from the gas. But before long everyone was coughing and squeezing their eyes shut against the burning sensation.

“Get on the floor!” Donald cried.

Everyone except Perry flattened themselves on the floor while trying ineffectually to cover their mouths and noses with their hands. Perry stumbled back to the door to the cavern and began pounding on it, while screaming for it to be opened.

The door did not budge, but Perry had the presence of mind to notice something despite his panic and physical torment. He was not blacking out nor was he even feeling the slightest bit dizzy. The gas seemed not to have the lethal effect he most feared.

With strength of will Perry held his coughing in check and managed to crack his eyes for an instant despite the discomfort. The room was thick with the foglike vapor. Perry couldn’t see far, but he noticed that his arms were suddenly bare.

Curious as to what could have happened to the sleeves of his jogging suit, Perry squinted. He saw that his sleeves had fallen into tatters. They were hanging in shreds as if he’d dipped his arms into acid.

Aware that his whole body now felt cool, Perry patted his hands along his chest. His jogging suit-indeed, all his clothes-were suffering the same fate as his sleeves. The fabric of the clothing itself was progressively losing its structural integrity.

Perry had had nightmares in the past when he was under stress that he was naked in public. Suddenly it was coming to pass as he felt his clothes peel from his body in strips. He clutched at them and felt them disintegrate in his hands.

“It’s our clothes!” Perry shouted to the others. “The gas is dissolving our clothes!”

At first fear kept everyone else from responding. Perry yelled his message again and stumbled forward in the fog, almost tripping over Donald. “The gas is dissolving our clothes,” he repeated. “And I don’t feel any mental effect whatsoever.”

Donald pushed himself up to a sitting position. His coveralls experienced the same fate as Perry’s jogging suit. Quickly he patted himself to verify that he was indeed becoming naked. But he couldn’t open his eyes; the gas stung too much. Even without the visual confirmation, he was convinced. He called out to the others: “Perry’s right!”

Suzanne, like Perry, was able to get her eyes open intermittently. She saw that it was true about her clothes. Her coveralls literally fell apart. She also noticed that there was no effect on her mental state despite the discomfort she felt in her throat and chest. Relieved, she got to her feet.

Richard and Michael pushed themselves up into sitting positions. With the drugged feeling they were still experiencing, they could not tell if the gas was affecting their consciousness, but both were coughing heavily. For them, the respiratory effect was more difficult than it was for the others.

“My dive suit’s fine,” Richard managed between coughs. But then he made the mistake of running his hand over his shoulder. When he did, the neoprene completely depolymerized. At his touch it fell into tiny spheres.

Through blinks, Michael had glimpsed the fate of Richard’s suit. He glanced intermittently at his own suit, reluctant to touch it or even move, but Richard reached out and gave his shoulder a sharp slap. The effect was instantaneous. One minute the dive suit looked normal, the next it was running off Michael like so many drops of water.

Suddenly, an alarm sounded and a red light on the wall opposite the door to the cavern began to flash-moments before, that same wall had appeared seamless. Through the caustic vapor, the five began to discern the outline of an open doorway below the light.

The alarm ceased after a few minutes but the light continued to blink. Then they noticed the sound of a high-pitched whistle. Air was being forced through a narrow vent.

Perry advanced slowly toward the flashing light. When he reached the wall, he saw that the outline of the door was more distinct. He felt around its edges. When he did he could feel a steady current of air pushing in. That explained the whistling. He tested with his foot to make sure the floor was level across the threshold. Then he stepped through.

Perry was immediately relieved. The curtain of fast-moving air kept the acrid gas from the hallway he’d entered. The walls, floor, and ceiling were constructed of the same polished metal as the gas-filled room, but the level of illumination was significantly less. Twenty feet ahead Perry could see that the corridor opened up into another chamber.

Perry poked his head back through the air curtain.

“There’s another room,” he shouted. “And it’s clear. Quick!”

The other four struggled to their feet and moved toward the blinking light. Suzanne had to guide Donald; he couldn’t stand to open his eyes. In a minute, the entire party made it into the new room.

The gas wore off swiftly. They were so relieved that they weren’t troubled by the complete disintegration of their clothes. All five were stark naked, but other concerns were more pressing. Ahead the second room beckoned.

“Let’s move,” Donald said. He gestured for Perry to precede them since he was already in the lead.

Perry flattened himself against the wall and motioned for Donald to pass. “I think you should be first. You’re still the captain of the ship.”

Donald nodded and pushed past. Perry fell in behind him followed by Suzanne. The two divers brought up the rear.

“It’s pretty obvious what’s going on now,” Donald said.

“I’m glad it’s obvious to you,” Perry said.

“What do you mean?” Suzanne asked.

“We’re being prepared for interrogation,” Donald said. “It’s a recognized technique to strip away a person’s sense of identity as a way to break down resistance. Our clothes are certainly part of our identity.”

“I don’t have any resistance,” Perry said. “I’ll tell whoever it is whatever they want to know.”

“Donald, does that mean you know what that gas was?” Suzanne asked.

“That’s a negative,” Donald said.

Donald halted at the second room’s threshold and peered in. It was considerably smaller than the first chamber although it, too, was lined with the same mysterious, metallic material. From where he was standing, he could make out a glass-doored exit as well as a white hall begin with what appeared to be framed pictures on the walls. Within the chamber he noticed that the floor sloped toward the center, where there was a grate, and the ceiling peaked to a central point with a second grate.

“Well?” Suzanne questioned. From where she was she couldn’t see what lay ahead.

“It looks encouraging,” Donald said. “There’s a relatively normal looking corridor beyond a glass door.”

“Then let’s move,” Richard called impatiently from behind Suzanne.

With both hands on the doorjamb for support, Donald moved first one foot onto the sloped floor and then brought the other to it. As he’d anticipated he began to slide once he let go. He slid for about three feet with his hands flailing to keep from falling. At that point the floor angled out to be almost level. He turned and warned the others.

Everyone was careful except Michael. Having grown up in Chelsea, Massachusetts, where he’d played hockey since age five, he wasn’t concerned about the slick floor. But its angle took him by surprise. His feet went out from under him on his first step, and he careened into the others like a bowling ball. In a flash the entire group was a pile of entwined naked limbs.

“For chrissake!” Donald snapped. He extricated himself and helped Suzanne to her feet. The others struggled up by themselves. Michael was hardly remorseful. Now that his eyes were open, he was much more interested in appreciating Suzanne’s body. Richard swore and cuffed Michael on the top of his head. Michael shoved Richard in return, effectively sending them both to the ground again.

“Knock it off!” Donald shouted. Being careful not to fall, he separated the two divers. Richard and Michael obeyed, but continued to glare at each other.

“My god!” Suzanne voiced. “Look!” She pointed back at the doorway they’d just come through. Everyone gaped in astonishment. The doorway was silently sealing over, as if the metal wall were fusing together. Within moments the opening was gone without a trace. The wall was seamless.

“If I’d not seen that with my own eyes, I’d never believe it,” Perry said. “It’s supernatural, like a movie special effect.”

“I can’t begin to understand the technology,” Suzanne said. “I think it lets the Russians off the hook.”

A deep gurgling sound then issued from the central grate. All eyes turned in its direction.

“Oh no!” Suzanne said. “What’s coming now?”

Before anyone could respond, a clear fluid that looked like water bubbled up through the central floor grate. The group shrank back, then scrambled toward the glass door. The angle and slippery surface of the floor forced them to their hands and knees. The first to the door began to bang on the glass, desperate for a way to open it. Behind them the inrushing water had become a geyser; the water level was rising rapidly.

Within minutes they were waist-deep in water. Moments later they were all treading water watching with horror as the ceiling approached. Even if they could keep treading indefinitely, there soon would be no room to breathe. Rapidly the group was forced together while struggling for the last remnants of air in the very peak of the ceiling. As the strongest swimmers, Richard and Michael were at the center directly below the grate and, in a desperate attempt to find more air, they stuck their fingers through the holes and tried to pull the grate from its housing.

But their efforts were fruitless. The grate would not budge, and the water level continued to rise until the room was filled to the ceiling. No sooner had everyone gone under, than the room began to drain, and at an extraordinary rate. Within seconds there was headroom again; within minutes Donald and Richard, the tallest of the five, felt their feet brush the floor.

Soon there was a loud, rude sucking noise as the last of the water disappeared down the drain, and the group was left in a wet, naked heap in the central basin of the concave floor. For some time no one moved. A combination of utter terror, panic-driven exertion, and having inadvertently swallowed sizable gulps of the fluid left them physically and emotionally exhausted.

Donald finally pushed himself up to a sitting position. He felt light-headed. He had an odd feeling that more time had passed than he could account for. It occurred to him that they might have been drugged by the water that had filled the room. He closed his eyes for a moment and rubbed his temples. When he reopened his eyes he looked at the others. They all appeared to be sleeping. He looked toward the glass door when his gaze shot back to Suzanne.

“Good Lord!” Donald muttered. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Suzanne was bald! Donald ran a hand over the top of his head, but he’d kept it shaved for several years. He felt for his mustache. It was gone! Raising his forearm he saw that, too, was totally devoid of hair. He glanced down at his chest; there wasn’t a hair there.

Donald shook Perry, then nudged Suzanne. When both of them were awake enough to understand what he was saying, he filled them in.

“Oh, no!” Perry cried. He sat bolt upright. Using both hands he reached up and gingerly touched his scalp. There was no hair, only smooth skin. He pulled his hands away as if he’d touched something hot. He was horrified.

Suzanne was more curious than dismayed. Something had rendered them completely hairless. How had it happened-and why?

“What’s happening?” Richard asked. His words were slurred. He sat up, then had to steady himself. “Ooo… I feel like I tied one on.”

“I’m a bit dizzy myself,” Perry admitted. “Maybe there was something in the water. I know I swallowed some.”

“I think we were drugged,” Donald said.

“We all swallowed a lot of the water,” Richard said. “It’s hard not to in that kind of ordeal. That was worse than submarine escape training.”

“I think I know what is going on,” Suzanne said.

“Yeah, me, too,” Perry said. “We’re being tortured and humiliated.”

“All techniques of interrogation,” Donald added.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with interrogation,” Suzanne said. “The strange intense light, the acrid gas, and now the depilation suggests something else.”

“What’s depilation?” Richard asked.

“It’s what happened to your head,” Perry said.

Richard blinked. He stared at Perry, then touched the top of his head. “My god, I’m bald.” He looked over at Michael, who was still slumbering. Then he reached over and gave him a shove. “Hey, you hairless wonder. Wake up!”

Michael had trouble opening his eyes.

“I think we’re being decontaminated,” Suzanne said. “I think that’s what all this is about: getting rid of microorganisms like bacteria and viruses. We’ve effectively been sterilized.”

No one spoke. Perry nodded as he considered what Suzanne had said. He thought it was possible.

“I still think all this is to prepare us for interrogation,” Donald said. “Sterilizing us doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t know if it is Russians who are behind this or not, but somebody wants something from us.”

“Maybe we’re going to know pretty soon,” Perry said. He nodded toward the glass door, which was now ajar. “I think the next stage is ready.”

Donald unstably struggled to his feet. “There was definitely some kind of drug in the water,” he said. He waited until a fresh episode of dizziness passed, then headed toward the open door. Where the slippery floor angled up he had to go on all fours. Once he reached the doorway, he stood up and looked down a white, fifty-foot corridor.

“I feel drugged but I also feel strangely hungry,” Suzanne said.

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Perry admitted.

“Listen, you guys,” Donald called. “Things are looking up. There’re living quarters down at the end of this hallway. Let’s mobilize!”

Suzanne and Perry got their feet under them and stood up, battling the same fleeting dizziness Donald had experienced.

“I guess living quarters means beds,” Suzanne said. “And that sounds good to me. Besides, I want out of this room in case that water comes back.”

“My feelings exactly,” Perry said.

Richard and Michael had fallen back asleep. Suzanne gave them both a poke but neither stirred. Perry lent a hand.

“Whatever was in that water affected them more than us,” Suzanne said as she shook Richard to get him to open his eyes.

“They felt drugged from being in the spheres, even before the dousing,” Perry said. He pulled Michael, who groaned to be let alone, up to a sitting position.

“Let’s move it!” Donald called. “I don’t want this door to close before you’re all out of here.”

Despite their groggy state, the warning about the door penetrated Richard and Michael’s stupor, and they got to their feet. As they moved their mental state rapidly improved. By the time the group joined Donald, the divers were even talking.

“This isn’t half bad,” Richard said as he inspected the corridor with lidded eyes. Instead of mirrorlike metal, the walls and ceiling were a high-gloss white laminate. Framed, three-dimensional pictures lined the walls. The floor was covered with a tight-weave white carpet.

“These pictures are something else,” Michael commented. “They’re so realistic. It looks like I can see into them for twenty miles.”

“They’re holographs,” Suzanne said. “But I’ve never seen a holograph with such vivid, natural color. They are startling, especially in this otherwise white environment.”

“They all look like scenes from ancient Greece,” Perry said. “Whoever our tormentors are, at least they’re civilized.”

“Let’s go, men!” Donald called. He was standing impatiently just over the next threshold. “We’ve got some tactical decisions to make.”

“Tactical decisions,” Perry mimicked in a whisper to Suzanne. “Doesn’t he ever relax this military posturing?”

“Not often,” Suzanne admitted.

The group walked the length of the hallway and paused, taken aback by the scene in front of them. After the series of stark, industrial chambers, they were unprepared for the room’s sumptuousness. The decor was futuristic, with lots of mirrors and white marble, yet it had a calm, cool, inviting ambiance. A dozen, canopied, couchlike beds with white cashmere blankets lined both walls. Five of the beds were invitingly turned down with folded clean clothes lying atop each pillow. In the background, soft instrumental music completed the mood.

Down the center of the room stretched a large, low table with chaiselike, deeply cushioned chairs. The table was laid for a meal with covered servers and pitchers of iced drinks. The dishes were white, the tablecloth was white, and the flatware was gold.

“If this is heaven, I’m not ready,” Perry said when he had recovered enough to speak.

“I don’t think chow smells this good in heaven,” Richard said. “And I just realized I’m more hungry than tired.” He started forward with Michael at his heels.

“Hold up!” Donald said. “I’m not sure we should eat anything. The food’s probably drugged or even worse.”

“You really think so?” Richard said with obvious disappointment. He wavered, looking back and forth between Donald and the laden table.

“And those mirrors,” Donald said, pointing to the huge sheets that formed the far end of the room. “I’d assume they are two-way, which would mean we’re being watched.”

“Who the hell cares, if they treat us like this,” Michael said. “My vote is we eat.”

Suzanne’s eyes fell on the folded garments on each bed. She had not noticed them sooner because they were white like most everything else and blended perfectly with the white linen. She went over to the nearest bed. She lifted the garments and shook them out. There were two simple pieces: a long-sleeved tunic that opened at the front and a pair of boxer shorts. Both were made of a silky white satin, and both were curiously seamless.

“My word! Pajamas!” Suzanne commented. “Now this is downright thoughtful.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Suzanne pulled on the shorts. The tunic was generously proportioned and came to knee length, covering the boxers. It tied with a gold braided rope. Along the sides were several pockets.

Suzanne’s dressing reawakened everyone’s self-consciousness. The four men grabbed clothing sets from the beds and donned them.

Michael eyed himself in the mirrors at the end of the room. “Not much to these things,” he said. “But they’re comfortable.”

Richard laughed at him. “You look like a faggot.”

“As if you don’t, asshole,” Michael shot back hotly.

“That’s enough!” Donald barked. “There’s to be no fighting among ourselves. Save it for whoever it is we’ll be facing. Which brings me to the issue of setting up watches to stand guard.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Richard asked. “This isn’t some kind of military exercise. I’m going to eat and then I’m racking out. I’m not standing any watch.”

“We’re all tired,” Donald said. “But there is a door to consider that we don’t have any control over.”

All eyes swung around to gaze at the door at the end of the room opposite the mirrors. It was white like everything else and was without a knob, latch, or hinges.

“We have to stay vigilant,” Donald added. “I don’t want these Russians or whoever these people are sneaking in here and doing whatever they want to us.”

“Judging by the pains they have taken with these accommodations, I don’t think your paranoia is justified,” Suzanne said. “And I thought we decided we’re not dealing with Russians here.”

“Well, you people argue about all that,” Richard said. He walked over to the table and lifted the cover of one of the chafing dishes. The savory aroma filled the room.

“What is it?” Michael asked. He leaned over to look.

“I don’t have a clue,” Richard said. He lifted the spoon. The steaming food was cream colored and had a pasty consistency, like hot cereal’s. “It looks like Cream of Wheat, and it smells mighty good.” He brought the spoon to his mouth and tasted it. “Well, I’ll be damned! How’d they know? It tastes like my favorite food: steak.”

Michael took a taste. “Steak? What, are you crazy? It tastes like sweet potatoes.”

“Get outta here!” Richard complained. “You and your sweet potatoes.” He sat down on one of the chaises and helped himself to a sizable ladle of the food. “You’re always talking about sweet potatoes.”

Michael sat opposite and took a portion for himself. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically. “I happen to like sweet potatoes.”

Suzanne and Perry stepped to the table, their curiosity piqued by this exchange. They were experiencing almost irresistible hunger. Suzanne was the next to try the food.

“That’s incredible,” she remarked. “It tastes like mango.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Perry said. “Because to me it tastes exactly like fresh corn right off the cob.”

Suzanne took another taste. “To me it’s mango, without a doubt. Maybe there’s some way it tricks our brains to interpret the taste according to our own predilections.”

Even Donald was intrigued. He came over to the table and tried a minute amount. He shook his head in disbelief. “It tastes like biscuits to me: fresh buttermilk biscuits.” He took one of the chairs. “I guess I’m as hungry as everybody else.”

Everyone helped themselves to varying amounts of the curious food. They found it difficult to resist going back for seconds. They also discovered that the iced drink had a similar variable effect. It tasted different to each person, according to his or her preference.

As soon as the group’s ravenous hunger had been slaked, the exhaustion and sleepiness that they’d experienced earlier returned, and with a vengeance. Fighting against sagging eyelids they pushed back from the table and sought their separate beds. No sooner had they drawn up the covers than everyone but Donald fell into a deep, hibernating sleep. Donald struggled vainly in hopes of maintaining a vigil, but it was impossible. Within minutes he, too, was slumbering.

The moment Donald’s eyes closed, tiny red lights appeared on the canopy of each bed. At the same time, a glow emanated from the canopy and enveloped the sleeping individual below in a violet halo.