The Beginning by Mark Lansing Page A

his hand over the smooth surface of the flo or. Sunlight was now bursting in through the hole, lighting up the barn’s interior. Martin’s frantic searching fingers located an indented button, his index finger plunged the button down.
    With the swiftness of technology far beyond this abandoned barn, a small metal sheet withdrew to reveal an inbuilt keypad, 4 flashing dots prompted a code. Martin’s mind raced and he input the code for the safe in the main house.
    ACCESS DENIED. 2 ATTEMPTS REMAINING.
    Martin’s mind raced trying to think of the code. A loud crack came from behind him, he twisted his head to see the man’s head already inside the barn. His arms were trying to drag the rest of his body through the hole, but it was too small and his shoulders were grating against the barn’s wooden door.
    Think, Martin, think, he thought to himself. Their wedding anniversary?
    ACCESS DENIED. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING.
    Martin’s could feel his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was never going to guess the code. And that man was almost inside the barn. He was not going down without a fight.
    By now the inside of the barn was dimly lit by shots of sunlight beaming from the hole under the barn door and the splintered wood. Martin stood up and looked around for some kind of weapon he could use. Leaning up against a wood en support at the far end of the barn, illuminated by a shot of sunlight, was his Dad’s old rifle from Vietnam ; M16A 1 .
    Martin froze. He knelt back down and entered in the number that had been a feature of all of his father’s war stories. The number that h is father would willing have given his life for.
    ACCESS GRANTED.
    A thick metal block slid back with the effortless ease of high powered mechanics. Beneath it was a thin set of bright white stairs leading underground. Martin scrambled down them, catching the sight of the man hurtling through the barn in the corner of his vision. He slammed the palm of his hand into the close button. The metal block slid across swiftly. But not before a few flecks of blood-dotted saliva flew from the man’s mouth as he threw himself through the air and connected with Martin’s face.

Chapter 2
    Martin wiped the saliva off with the back of his hand. He could hear a faint banging sound on the other side of the metal block, but it was so distant and weak that it sounded as if it came from a tired elderly mouse.
    Martin slid down onto one of the steps and listened to the steady banging inches above his head. What would drive someone to do that? He must have escaped from a mental asylum or be high on something.
    Martin surveyed the narrow staircase he was in. The walls were bright white, illuminated from the inside. The smell of new paint returned to his nostrils. Martin had always liked the smell of fresh paint, it reminded him of new places, new beginnings. After all, that is why he was here.
    Returning to his hometown had seemed like such a good idea, now it seemed like a big mistake.
    He had no idea how right he was.
    He stood up, ducking slightly under the low ceiling, and descended the white staircase. 10 steps down. At the bottom was a metal block similar to the one at the top of the stairs, but it was twice as large. The keypad was located on the right of the door, he entered the code again and the door slid open.
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    The door effortlessly slid to the side and inside the whole room burst into life. Lights switched on like a dominoes stack starting at the door and finishing at the other end of the room, Martin guessed about 100 feet away. Towards the back of th e room a generator spurted into life. The walls, floor and ceiling were made of dull grey concrete. It made the whole room feel smaller and tighter, shrinking gradually.
    Behind him, at the top of the stairs, Martin could hear a faint banging, so faint tha t for a