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Planet Earth, in the future year of 136

"How're you doing back there?" Georges asked, not looking back.

He listened to the accentuated breathing and stuttering footsteps behind him, ragged and unsure in their action. His co-worker seemed to be exerting more effort than expected. Not due to the exploration suit, Georges thought. He, too, wore the off-white outfit; lightweight and compression-fitted, designed for easier movement. And, not because of physical conditioning either, Georges further discerned. He squinted in the half-lit darkness. He knew this guy. He'd worked alongside him now for some time.

"Your search light is all over the place, Hansin."

"Jus' makin' sure we ain' bein' followed... " Hansin replied.

In contrast, Georges held his own lantern steadfast and forward, undeterred by the harrowing pathway ahead. Within his helmet, he viewed the concrete and steel surroundings on an inner screen; structural assessments from the lantern, outlining the broken scenery into a green and beige electronic display. The lantern revealed every crack and crevice in the derelict building. Every step through the crumbling construct was a risk in safekeeping.

Something in the background moved.

Hansin flinched.

It was Georges' shadow, moving across the wall, further away.

"Jumpin' johimny... " Hansin exhaled.

"Don't worry," Georges said. "We're safe in here. They'd have to break-in to follow us."

"Shuraz hell they cou' break in here!" Hansin blurted.

"The Canines don't go into human structures."

"Tha' ain' true! They go wherever they wanna go!"

"Only under certain circumstances."

"Fools alive, George! Wolves dohnee' no excuse to hun'! They jus' kill fer the hell of it!"

"Stop scaring yourself."

"I ain'! This place ain' safe as shermin!"

The dilapidated rooms were not a convincing portrait of stability; the walls were warped and worn, their paint partially peeling, their support beams slanted. Broken glass lay shattered on the floor while ancient metal desks and file cabinets stood covered in dust and dirt. Outdated pieces of equipment -- computers, copiers and phones -- were left abandoned on the desks, scattered amongst pens and paper.

Hansin adjusted his helmet with an oversized glove, indirectly wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. He stretched his neck in the limited space, as if a collar were strangling him.

Dust particles kicked up into the air -- swirling and floating -- as the two men trespassed from one ancient room to another, awakening the long lost building.

"Actually, I think the framework's in pretty good condition, considering," Georges said.

"Considerin' it ain' been maintain'd in o'er a hunner years," Hansin mocked.

"But still intact, despite being submerged all this time."

The sound of gravel crunching beneath Hansin's boots resonated throughout the edifice as he turned and checked the premises one more time.

"Hansin, please, they're not following us," Georges reassured. "Canines protect their children and habitat. They don't go looking for trouble."

"Pretennin' like ya unnerstan' 'em," Hansin shook his head. "Wolves ain' yer friends, Georgie. Once they smell yer blood, they'll be comin' fer ya!"

The two men came to a standstill within a small, nondescript lobby. Across from them, through a shambled foyer, a pair of large metallic doors stood nearly hidden within a wall. The secret entryway was smooth and discrete, without handles or signs, and at first one might not have thought anything of it, except for the presence of a dull red light emanating from the right side of the doors.

Georges studied the odd security signal, then looked back at the hidden doors with widened eyes. They were a magical portal to another time and place. He removed his weathered backpack from his shoulder and placed it at the foot of the doors.

"Thizzit?" Hansin asked. He rapped on the wall at length. "Hah! Now I got ya. It's compleely cammo."

"Yeah," Georges agreed, "but the security mechanism's still intact. Whatever's behind these doors is important."

There was a pause.

"We shou' leave it 'lone."

"Come on, Hansin! Aren't you the least bit interested in what might be behind this thing?"

"Nope! Cur-yosities' gonna kill yer cat."

Georges laughed. "Well, good thing I brought you along instead." He pulled off his gloves and bent down to open his backpack. He pulled out a small, bulky device.

Hansin frowned. "Whuzzat?"

"It's a sonic box," Georges replied.

"Hmph... can it kill a pack o' wolves?"

"No, but it can generate a small, focused magnetic pulse."

"Uh-huh. Where'd ya get it?"

"From Anderson."

"'Courz! All this shamcy gear." He shook his head. "Fools alive, George! Why're they givin' ya all this stuff? You ain' no part of Human Protectin'!"

"I've got a few contacts over there."

"Itz a kooky cult, George! They catch lil' kids n' brainwash 'em!"

"They do not. They're schooling them."

"Uh-huh, who knows whuz really goin' on. All I know is I wou'n let my dodder go o'er there."

"Shut up, Hansin. Now go take some cover. Over there." Georges pointed to a support beam beyond the atrium.

Hansin followed the directions without haste.

Georges turned the sonic device on, adjusted its placement, then rushed to join his co-worker in coverage.

He reached to activate the mysterious device --

"Hey," Hansin interrupted, "you 'member tha' ol' necklace you foun' while back? The one with the cross?"

"You mean the rosary," Georges clarified.

"Yeah, yeah! Thazzit! You, uh... ya happen have it on ya?"

"No."

"Oh."

Georges stared. "Why?"

"No reasen."

Georges waited.

"Nothin'!" Hansin dismissed. "I wuz jus' wannin' it fer good luck righ' now, thazzall."

"You know, Hansin, there's no such thing as luck."

"Wha-?"

"And rosaries and amulets don't help. Religions are a sham."

Hansin's face widened.

"How can you say tha'... ?"

"You wanted a rosary?"

"You know, fer scarin' off monzers an' demons, an' stuff... "

Georges smirked. "Monsters and demons don't exist."

"Oh, tha' ain' true, Georgie. People battle monzers an' demons ever' day."

"Is that so?"

"Wha? You gonna fry my fish now, jus' 'fore you blow up this place?"

"It's not a bomb, Hansin," Georges chuckled, "but you can still pray if you want to." He pressed the activator button.

A rising noise grew louder and louder until a micro-pulsation shot out from the device and pounded the security box with concentrated effect, as if a time warp were being created from the very fabric of space around it. Soon the ultra-vibration was over, and the light of the security box had turned off. A crack of an opening now appeared at the steel doorway.

The two explorers crept up to the heavy doors and pulled them open with added effort. A black darkness awaited inside.

Georges passed his lantern through the undisturbed air. He hesitated.

"Wha, wha? Ya see an'thin'?" Hansin asked.

Georges studied the scene. "There's a whole stockpile of them."

Standing upright within the expanse were rows and rows of large, green rectangular objects, each extending to the ceiling in length.

"Wha're they?" Hansin asked.

"I have no idea," Georges replied.

Georges approached one of the standing columns and wiped his glove over its dust-covered surface.

"Ahhh!!!"

Georges gasped and pulled away. Through an apparent window, he saw the face of another human being.