Kotzenburg Ch.9

Tom Goes to the Majorly Irradiated Basement

By Chris Wunderlich

Tom was an easygoing, likable guy. He’d worked hard at the Hesse Microwave Facility, starting on the line in its opening days—and eventually worked up to a supervisor’s position. He’d seen his fair share of trials, what with the creation of the union, the zapping of Aron Warburton’s soul, and the damage caused when hoodlum Joey Brand crashed his car into the building. Through it all, Tom remained levelheaded. And the workers respected him for that. When their union leader George mysteriously vanished, however, they blamed Tom. And Mr. Skinner. And Hesse, the spirit of Joey Brand, the anger of Lake Erie, the ghosts of Barth House, and Vadim Domokos, for good measure. Tom was simply the most accessible scapegoat.

                Aiming to please his workers, Tom vowed to find George and prove his disappearance was no act of corporate malice. Having only seen Mr. Skinner once in his life, and never talking to him directly, Tom wanted to appeal to the Hesse representative. But like everyone else in Kotzenburg, had no idea where to find him. So, matters remained solely in Tom’s hands, for better or worse. Mostly for the worse.

                George was a mystery to most—only his genial nature and soft-handed, grandfatherly approach was evident. Tom tried to track George’s origins but found no family in town. The workers weren’t sure where he’d come from—rumor was, George had arrived by water. Even Aron Warburton, the soulless worker who’d introduced George to the factory, wasn’t sure of the truth. The truth being, of course, that George was the sheriff of Kotzenburg during the Barth House days, when he’d been washed into the Lake Erie mud, where he was preserved, and unearthed decades later. Tom didn’t believe the legend but had the shoreline searched anyhow. He found nothing but litter, dead fish, and lost shoes.

                After weeks of pressure and fruitless investigation, the workers eventually convinced Tom to check the last logical place George could be—the factory itself. While all the functional areas had been scoured from the start, there remained a good chunk of the building where no man dared to go—the underground. This section of factory constituted the original, archaic structure which the facility had been built around. Over the years, it had become irradiated, necessitating the building of multiple additions. People didn’t go underground. It was a death sentence. But George may have wandered off down there—it was entirely possible.

                Of course, Tom couldn’t just hop down a ladder and explore the dated structure without proper equipment. And unfortunately, equipment that allowed one to travel through irradiated caverns hadn’t been invented yet. Thus, Roger Burns, the chief scientist of the Hesse Microwave Factory, was consulted, and he couldn’t have been more excited by the challenge. Roger and Tom worked together, day and night, designing armor that could withstand the intense fallout of the basement. They tried lead vests and astronaut suits. They tried gas masks and diving bells. At one point, Tom was fitted with what looked like a vast collection of pots and pans. But Roger, ever the microwave-technology genius, wasn’t satisfied with preexisting technology. After trial and error, experiment and failure, and at least fifty different designs, the perfect suit was crafted. Looking like a retro-futuristic robot from the 1930’s, the outfit was clunky but effective. Roger was able to modify the black mesh stuff from the microwave doors to cover the entire chassis of the ‘bot. Tom found this suit unwieldy, uncomfortable, and difficult to maneuver. But it kept him safe from radiation, so it would have to do.

                Before the journey began, Roger attached a two-way radio communication device and video camera within the heavy suit of armor. When Tom suited up and waved to his workers, the crowd cheered. He felt like a spaceman, on his way to Mars. But instead of another world, perhaps in the future, when he descended the ladder into the sanctioned-off entryway, he found himself in the past. He found himself in Barth House, amongst old tools and machines. The underground and everything in it had been abandoned long ago and remained untouched until the day of Tom’s adventure. It was a terrifying, frozen museum of times past.

                Tom communicated with Roger and explained his surroundings. The air was thick. Everything seemed to glow. There were old microwave doors, outdated parts, and corroded electronics all about. Tom had to use all his might to trudge on as Roger watched on, fascinated. But the video feed began to distort. The radiation was toying with their transmissions.

                As Tom lumbered along, moving from room to room, he came across less microwave material. Where he expected to see hammers and molds, he began to find needles and thread. Where he thought the ancient machinery lay, he instead came to a wall of sewing machines. Where piles of rusted metal should have been, there was nothing but rags. And where Tom had hoped George could be found… instead he found a woman.

                Or, at least, he thought he’d found a woman. An old woman, to be exact, hunched over and rummaging through the rags. But Roger could not confirm this, with nothing but a warped video feed to go on. Certainly, nothing could live in the underground. Not a rat or cockroach or dust-mite. And certainly not a woman. But then the sounds began.

                Through the headset, Roger stopped hearing Tom’s narration. He thought this to be a mechanical error, caused by the ever increasing, deadly radiation. But to his surprise, another voice chimed in over the radio. It was an old woman, just as Tom had described, pleading for the hulking mass to leave. It would be understandable, of course, to be frightened by the giant robot-looking Tom, in his inhuman, colossal outfit. It was less understandable why there would be an old woman living in the irradiated remains of a microwave factory.

                Roger attempted communication with Tom but heard only static in response. He monitored the video feed, hoping for any sign of life, and eventually found hope in the moving picture. Tom was still on his quest, alive and well it seemed. The radio and cameras were failing, but there was no indication that Tom was otherwise in trouble. Until it appeared on camera—the gigantic, muscular, angry looking man, with a limp old woman in his paw.

                Tom stopped and pointed the camera at the man, careful not to lose focus. He wanted Roger to see exactly what he saw. And Roger did, though he couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought, surely, the video feed was being mixed with local television broadcasts. That was the only explanation. But Tom felt no such comfort. He saw in front of him and monster of a man, strangling the life out of what appeared to be a doll in his hands. But the doll had upon its face a most horrified expression—its dangling limbs twitching in pain. It was no doll, but a scared, old woman, in the last moments of her life. And the beast who held her by the neck showed no remorse. In fact, he squeezed and squeezed and soon dropped the woman, turning his attention to Tom.

                Now, Tom was open to the idea of hallucinations. He figured, what with all the microwaves and radioactive energy in this place, there were bound to be a few oddities. He was dehydrated, sweating profusely in his armor. He was delirious, surely. He saw the giant, imposing creature and thought only of how unrealistic the entire situation was. He longed for a breath of fresh air. But instead, he got a basketball-sized fist through his helmet.

                The video feed died instantly. The audio slowly crackled out. Roger played with his computer, attempting to revive the transmission, but all hope was lost. He informed the workers that Tom was now lost in the irradiated underground, and that they’d failed to find any trace of George. But Roger was undeterred—in fact, he was fascinated by the experience. He told the workers he’d send down a mechanical man, just as soon as he could build one. And next time he’d cover the cameras with that black mesh stuff, too. Back to the drawing board—Roger’s favorite place to be.