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  Chapter 8 – Tools

  The third door awaited me. What next? I now embraced the challenging nature of my imprisonment. I'm either being tested or punished, hell maybe both. The pain of the room of reflection had dulled enough to be tucked away in the back of my mind. The thought of the burlap man popped into my head. If the burlap man is here, what if the sisters are too? My subconscious was a step ahead of me; images of the two demons materialized. Oh god they've been with me the whole time.

  It seemed odd their two attacks had failed. Maybe they hadn't maybe those first two attacks were just the preamble. The journal's entries were clear about the sisters’ ruthless methodical nature, why then would they act as wild monsters? Strange, something else might be influencing them. The only thing I didn't doubt was the success of their experiment, their aura of raw power was only matched by the terror they instilled. They'll be back.

  The door of the third room opened with drama and pantomime from an excessively elaborate opening mechanism. Sliding rods and rolling gears shifted in the exposed innards of the door. It broke into four layered pieces and vanished into the floor, ceiling, and walls. The air was wet and warm with the steady exhaust of steam. The short hallway ended in a vast room filled with machinery. It's a workshop.

  I walked around the workshop aimlessly; I felt the childlike urge to drift my hand over every object in the room. In one corner was something that had the vague familiarity of a chemistry set, in another, strange interpretations of metalworking tools. Many of the tools were foreign to me; scraps of the glowing green metal littered the floor. The back wall was a honeycomb of storage bins. Filled with nuts and bolts and other assorted components, the whole place had a whimsical feel to it. It seemed so out of place. Why is this here? Why is this the third room? Am I supposed to build something?

  I scoured the room for a set of instructions, or a design layout, something to steer me in the right direction. Nothing. I don't get it. I walked out of the workshop back to the center room. I made a quick stop into the first chamber, maybe I missed something. My thoughts turned to the labyrinth, how could I go back in there now? If I forgot some crucial information in there it was going to stay there. I decided to return to the surface.

  The bright intensity of the sun was blinding, its power was forgotten in the maze. The endless sweep of the desert clashed with the sealed space of the underground. I kicked waves of sand in front of my feet as I circled the obelisk. I looked at it questioningly. Steam vented from one of the panels. I'm going to win. You'll break before I do. Inner pep talk finished, my feet brought me back inside the obelisk.

  On my gusty descent back to the antechamber my musings had turned into the loose formations of a plan. I walked towards the fourth door in the antechamber. It was smooth and featureless aside from the four circles. I knocked on it. Maybe someone will answer? The dull echo gave me a clue as to its thickness. I headed towards the workshop.

  The tools felt awkward in my hands, I fought my inexperience with patience and focus. I slowly pored over the wall of parts. I had burnt myself a few times discovering what the various steam valves in the room did and affected. Much of the machinery in the room was powered. Steam whistled from lathes, drills, and saws. Thankfully, I found the two critical components of my design, a set of hoses and a steam driven motor.

  My first test of the contraption was an abysmal failure. The motor spun the drive too fast and with none of the necessary torque. The rotating components vibrated so badly they broke before I could shut off the steam valve. The shattered pieces were unsalvageable and needed to be retooled completely.

  Test number two went better, the gearing off of the motor was closer to what I guessed it would need and the vibrations were reduced to tolerable levels. Time for some field testing. I dragged the piecemeal contraption into the antechamber and in front of the fourth door. The hoses weren't long enough and it took me a few minutes to find the correct fittings to attach more length. That should do it.

  I turned open the steam valve in the workshop and headed back towards the door. The drill bit turned slowly. I lined up my makeshift drill perpendicular to the door. Here goes nothing. I braced myself behind the drill and gave even steady pressure to it.

  The drill bit chewed at the door with sloppy imprecision. Satisfied that my plan would work I returned to the workshop to improve the design. I added a sliding rail with a lever arm so I could easily apply pressure to the bit without moving it off center. I adjusted the feet of the stand so they could be raised and lowered as I progressed through the door.

  I lost myself in my work; it was more fulfilling than solving the other puzzles of the facility. The feel of the tools in my hands against the metal I was working on was deeply satisfying. The process of creating filled me with pride, the time I spent meticulously setting the gearing of the drill would pay dividends in hastening my venture through the fourth door. Reality snapped me from my work for a moment. What's beyond the door I wonder?

  For the first time I had a real chance to prepare for the unknown, to prepare for the showdown with the sisters. It seemed inevitable; it was the only thing that could be behind that door. Well… who could know for sure? The upgraded drilling rig was set up at the fourth door. A weapon maybe? Something to protect me? Some armor? While rigging up the steam hoses I had settled on a sword and shield. Pretty minimalist but anything more will just slow me down.

  A slender bar of green metal fit the bill nicely. I began shaping and grinding it into a sword. The unusual weight of the metal kept the length necessarily short, no longer than my forearm. The work was slow, but the transformation from raw material to a honed blade was fantastically rewarding.

  A simple ring of metal served as cross-guard. Strips of rubber gave my hand good purchase on the hilt. The sword felt solid in my hands. I swung it against imagined enemies.

  Now, a shield. There were already discs of unused metal of the correct shape and thickness that needed only a small amount of work. I took my time to perfect the simple design, adjusting the angle of the handles, the thickness of the padding, and how flat or convex the shield was. It was ready.

  Time to work. I couldn't put off my fate any longer. Move forward, don't stagnate. I leaned the sword and shield against the wall in the hallway of the final door. Sitting behind my drill I began my first hole through the door. One by one the drill punched small holes in the door. The holes had connected into a complete line at the base of the door. I replaced the well-worn bit and began to draw the line upwards.

  After hours of being bathed in the hot steam bleeding from the motor the job was finished. I had drilled the outline of a square in the door; the postage stamp shape cut loose fell inside the fourth room. We're in. Dripping in sweat I pulled the drill aside and grabbed my sword and shield. This is it. I crawled through the small cut square into the final chamber.