19 – Cataclysm Protocol

The door clicked shut. Gomp Glompity let out a string of curses that scraped his throat, the stale air in the cramped room not helping.

“Durking vents.” The words came out in a ragged wheeze. He leaned his weight against the cold stone door, his lungs burning from the desperate sprint.

“That was close.” The demon lady was still out there. Somewhere. “This is bad. Really bad.”

“The remote. Where is the remote for the machine?” The sudden realization hit him in the gut like a lead weight.

“Don’t tell me I have to build another one from scratch.”

His hands were empty. He looked down at his palms, his fingers twitching as they searched for the familiar weight that wasn’t there.

That remote control was his masterpiece. His invention.

Everyone in the workshop had claimed a wireless autopilot matrix was impossible, yet he had built it anyway, installing the receiver in secret under the guise of routine repairs.

Now, the transmitter was lying on a cavern floor somewhere on the other side of that reinforced door.

“Ah, wait. Is that why the robot moved? It worked! It actually worked!”

His surge of enthusiasm died instantly when he heard footsteps approaching. They echoed up from the staircase, bouncing off the shaft walls on their way down to the main hold.

“Hey, Gomp. There you are.” It was his supervisor. Kikkity Kit, his round, grey-furred face catching the flickering light. “Are you finished already with the repairs? Well done. Well done.”

“No. Well…” Gomp’s fingers worked nervously against each other. He peered back over his shoulder at the concealed door. It remained utterly silent, mocking him with its seamless, stone surface. “You see…”

“I have to say, everybody thought I was crazy when I hired you,” Kit continued, completely ignoring the sweat dripping off Gomp’s furry chin. “They all say you are clumsy. But I told them you are smart. And quick. And…”

The stone floor lurched violently. A massive roar ripped through the small corridor, followed by a dense shower of dust and grit raining down from the ceiling. Both gnomes ducked instinctively, pulling their heads deep into their shoulders while peering upward at the trembling carved ceiling.

“I had some… You see…” Gomp stopped. The deafening screech of rolling metal gear grinding against bedrock completely drowned out his voice. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the vibrations to subside. “…Problems.”

“What? What kind of problem?” Kit snapped, furiously shaking the stone dust from his beard. “Huh? It doesn’t matter. I tell you, everybody wanted me to hire you for this job. I told them you were too clumsy. But nobody listens to Kit. Youngsters nowadays. Move. Out of the way. Let me see.”

Kit shoved past, his short but solid shoulder catching Gomp squarely in the ribs. He marched directly toward the concealed door’s control panel.

“No. Don’t open it.”

“Why?” Kit paused, his hand hovering over the flat lever that sealed it airtight, then nodded grimly. “Is it so bad? Is it a fire or a collapse? What have you done? Answer me. Now.”

“Outside, boss. Outside. She…” Gomp stammered, his tongue feeling entirely too thick for his mouth.

“No matter. I see. I see. I always say it’s better to look with your very own eyes.” Kit shoved Gomp aside and reached for the heavy periscope mounted in the center of the room.

The device was technically reserved for monitoring dangerous lava flows in the adjacent tunnels, and since the main hold had been transferred to this volcano a few years back, it had sat gathering dust.

The periscope groaned loudly as Kit hauled it down from its housing. Metal shrieked violently against rusty metal. He twisted the brass dials to adjust the focus, peering at what lay beyond the heat-proof door.

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“Not much fire. No collapse. Ah. Just some people.”

He pulled his face back from the lens, his pink nose wrinkling in disapproval.

“You know it’s strictly forbidden to bring friends to the workplace? And humans at that. Tsk. I’ll have to file a formal infraction report.”

“No. They are not human,” Gomp whispered.

“Ah, even worse. Let me see. Tsk tsk. Angels. Very bad. Bad indeed. But wait. She…”

Kit rubbed his eyes, then pressed his face back against the viewing lens with wild force. Every muscle locking up. The thick grey fur on his cheeks and forehead stood on end like porcupine quills.

“It cannot be. What kind of joke is this?”

He turned his head with agonizing slowness toward Gomp, his pupils dilated.

“Durking bloody vents.” Kit spat.

“Should we sound the alarm, boss?” Gomp asked, his own hands beginning to shake again.