The smell only got worse as Rook descended the ladder. Before he did, he pulled the trapdoor shut, figuring he should cover his tracks to the extent possible. The ladder dropped about twenty feet before ending in a tunnel six feet high. The tunnel was carved from the rock, and crumbled stone littered the bottom of it, suggesting that the tunnel’s top might have some structural problems. His feet crunched over the fallen stones as he made his way down the tunnel, away from the ladder.
He had a sense that the tunnel was generally sloping downward in the direction of town. He made slow progress, ducking his head the whole time, but after five or six minutes, he estimated he’d come a quarter mile. He found himself at a metal door with a frame embedded in the rock. The word “Ragnar?k” had been stenciled above the door. Rook knew that Ragnar?k was a Norse prophecy about the end of the world that included a massive battle in which many of the Nose gods—Thor, Odin, Loki, etc—die. The word actually translates to “Doom of the Gods.” The story included the near destruction of the human race, but the survivors would reclaim the Earth, now a paradise. What that had to do with this place, he had no idea, but he was sure that whoever came up with the name had a flare for the dramatic.
The door had no handle, but Rook knew the creature must have a way to get through. The upper right seemed to have a space between the jamb and the door, and Rook was able to use the tips of his fingers to get it open. It took the right combination of leverage and strength, and he couldn’t see how a creature with massive hands could pull it off.
The door slammed shut behind him, and Rook took in his surroundings. He was inside some sort of laboratory, and while the equipment seemed ancient, it wasn’t in disorder. The smell had gotten even worse, and Rook had to wrap his black handkerchief around his nose to ward off the nausea.
Moving through the room, he went through one of its two doors. This one was just a small storage closet with some crumbling boxes in it. Returning to the room’s other door, he came to a larger room, one which encompassed several small offices as well as containing a couple of doors with the universal biohazard stickers on them. Rook moved to one of those doors.
When he did, he heard a howling sound, a pitiful echo of what the wolves outside were capable of, but loud enough in the enclosed space. He put the strap of the AR-15 around his shoulder, readied the Desert Eagle in his right hand and opened the door.
He saw several built-in cages rising to the ceiling, and one of them was not empty. It contained three wolves.
These wolves were nothing like the others, however. Their coats were missing large patches of fur, and they were small and scrawny, every rib visible. Each was deformed in some way, with one having only one eye in the middle of its forehead, another missing an ear and the front left paw and the third with something like a fifth leg dangling from its belly. The animals whimpered as he approached.
Holy shit, Rook thought. Are these Fossen’s experiments?
He stared at them for another minute, trying to keep his mind off the pain in the animals’ eyes. Then he exhaled and left the room without looking back. He could feel the blood draining from his fingers due to the tightness of his grip on the Desert Eagle, and he had to force himself to unclench his hands.
The other biohazard room contained nothing, so Rook moved through the one other door off the main room. Unlike in the previous areas, this new room he entered had a source of natural light, a small window near the top of one of the walls. Despite the ray of light peeking through the top, he saw nothing but dirt packed against the glass outside the window. Under the window, he could see a set of double doors, and he got the impression that this room had once served as the entrance to the whole lab.
Testing out his theory, he tried to open one of the double doors. He did so slowly, which he appreciated a moment later when dirt started falling through the opening. He shined his headlamp through it and just as with the window, he saw nothing but earth on the other side. The conclusion was clear: Someone had buried the main entrance to the lab.
He forced the door closed and looked at the rest of the space. In the corner, he saw a long couch, torn and filthy, with several old blankets on top of it. Near it, he saw a pile of bones and decaying flesh, and he knew these were the animals stolen from Peder’s farm.
He approached the couch. Wow. Yeti’s bedroom and kitchen all rolled into one. I hope it isn’t his bathroom too, though the smell’s so bad already I guess it wouldn’t matter.
On top of the strewn blankets, he saw a faded brown folder. It seemed out of place in the clutter, placed there deliberately. Rook snatched it up, jumping away as he did. He knew he looked foolish and that the idea of a folder triggering a booby-trap was ridiculous, but he’d seen too much craziness in Fenris Kystby not to use caution.