Pierce walked around the elevator and checked to see if they were alone. They seemed to be the only souls. He walked back to Dimitri, still pondering his next move.
“Told you. Base is on lockdown. We should go back.”
“This is how you came? This thing looks as if it’s been sitting dead for years,” Dimitri replied.
“Don’t know what to tell you,” said Pierce, and he continued to keep a lookout.
Dimitri looked toward another door just a few feet away. A stairwell sign protruded from the wall. He pointed at it and smiled with the obvious choice. “What about the stairs?”
“They just go up. Up to the operational offices on the second and third floors. The elevator is the only way down to the digs.”
Dimitri moved his attention back to the button panel. “I need to get inside that panel.”
Pierce shook his head in frustration as Dimitri shoved off.
The flickering of a light switch interrupted the dark room. The group of weary survivors shuffled in one at a time from an adjoining hallway. Dimitri was first. He raised the gun forward like a cop and scanned the environment. The coast was clear, but he felt compelled to keep himself ready.
The room was smaller than the room they had been contained in. About five hundred square feet. Most of it was taken up by shelving and a large center island with a sink. The room was some type of laboratory. A row of large windows looked out into the dark industrial space outside. The walls were white and lined with three-inch square porcelain tiles. It was the kind of smooth texture that could be easily cleaned, and it had a morgue-like quality to it. A gray office phone was on one of the counters. It dated the room to the early nineties.
Dimitri and Hanna spotted the telephone at the same time. Dimitri lowered the gun and quickly stepped toward it. He placed the receiver to his ear. His face soured. The phone was dead. No dial tone. He clicked the return button a few times. He shook his head and tossed the receiver back to the countertop.
Hanna leaned over his shoulder, keeping her voice low to avoid a public discussion. “How much time do you need for that elevator?” she asked.
Dimitri shook his head. “I don’t know.”
He then walked off, leaving Hanna unsettled.
Gail stepped into the room and leaned up against the wall. She was at the brink. Her legs were buckling at the knees. Her head was throbbing. Her body felt as if it was on fire. It was like influenza on hyperdrive. Her face was shiny with sweat, and the whites in her eyes were yellowed with fatigue. Her face looked drawn. “I can’t go any farther.” She sighed. “You guys go get some help.”
Russell didn’t like the sound of that. He worried about splitting up. It seemed like another bad idea.
“I’ll be fine here,” Gail replied as she noticed Russell’s concern. “Do what you have to do. I’ll just slow you down anyway.”
“I ain’t leaving you here,” replied Russell.
“What happens when you get out there? I can hardly walk. If there is some shit going on, I’m a liability.”
Russell looked over to Hanna a few yards away. She was listening in on the conversation.
“I’ll stay with you,” said Russell.
“No. They need you more than I do. I’ll be fine here,” Gail replied.
Pierce backed up across the room toward Gail and Russell’s huddle. He was focused on the hallway outside. “I’ll stay with her. We’ll be fine in this room for now,” Pierce said.
Russell and Hanna angled back toward the man’s comment. A lingering feeling of shared distrust remained among them. Although Pierce’s job was to protect the base and those on it, he seemed to be a mystery. Hanna looked toward Russell to get his approval.
He was even more reluctant than she was. He was distrustful of the security police to begin with. He often compared them to the gestapo. They were secretive, arrogant, and, most troubling, unaccountable for their actions. They enjoyed autonomy because of their clearance. When they weren’t running trespassers and coyotes off base, they typically spent their time creeping out the civilian contractors. No one liked them, and this day especially Russell did not either.
“Worry about yourselves,” Gail said. She then looked to Pierce. “You want to stay here, that’s on you too. I don’t need you here.”
Despite the obvious concern, Hanna knew she was right. Bringing her would be a liability. Pierce was also in bad shape. He was clutching his ribs and seemed to be in some level of pain — maybe from the fall he had taken earlier when he entered the containment space.
Across the room, Dimitri located a lower shelf that hid a red plastic toolbox. It was heavy and overstuffed with useful objects. He pulled it out and set it on the counter above. There were screwdrivers, a large wrench, and a few flashlights, including an elastic head lamp. The toolbox was some type of emergency kit, and whoever left it was a saint. It was just what he needed to do his work on the elevator. He quickly fit two long screwdrivers into his coverall pockets and then a hammer. He stretched the elastic head lamp band around his head and positioned the light above his brow.
Dimitri tossed one of the handheld flashlights across the room toward Russell. It was all Russell could do to catch it. He fumbled it around for a few seconds before getting a handle on it.
Dimitri then turned to Hanna. He handed her the heavy wrench and her own flashlight. The wrench wasn’t for fixing. It was for her protection. With a simple click, Dimitri turned on his head lamp, blinding her eyes with a barrage of cool LED brightness.
“Let’s go,” he muttered. He pivoted toward the door and exited.
Russell looked back at Gail once last time and backed toward the hallway with regret. She nodded to him for reassurance, but he still wasn’t sold. He locked eyes with Pierce. The message was clear. Pierce had to take care of her.
Three separate beams of light sliced and diced through the darkness of a long stairwell. Dimitri moved into the lead with the gun ready. Russell was more than willing to let him go first, but he made sure Hanna was between them. Each heavy thud down onto the metal steps sent a hollow reverberating clamor rocketing down the several flights below them. The noise was excruciating and impossible to avoid.
Anyone down there will know we’re coming now, Hanna thought painfully, grimacing with each wrenching moment.
The smell of the stairwell was thick and intoxicating. Every step kicked up dust, slowly sealing off the nostrils from air and adding weight to the lungs. Dimitri moved to the second landing and stopped, creating a bottleneck effect. His head lamp shone forward and cast a beam of light through the lingering dust in the air. The group was at the end of the staircase. An open doorway led out into another uninviting dark space. Their arrival wasn’t stealth by any means, and someone — or something — could just as easily be waiting to attack from inside. Dimitri proceeded with caution. He aimed his gun forward.
The doorway was only about ten yards from where they stood, but descending the last few steps seemed to take forever. Hanna moved her wrench up into an attack position and stayed close to Dimitri. Russell angled back toward the upper staircase. He hoped to God they weren’t walking into an ambush.
Dimitri slid to the surface of the wall to get a better look at the outside. He waved to the others to stay put. He slid his back along the wall slowly, getting a better perspective of another room. The coast was clear. He motioned to Hanna and Russell that it was OK.
The trio quickly filed through the door and looked around. Russell shone his light across the landscape, offering a glimpse at their surroundings. It looked to be some type of water filtration system, but it looked old and run down. Utility boxes were everywhere. Conduit snaked across the wall like a European subway map. This was the area of the base few got to see — and for good reasons. It was treacherous and easy to get lost. The leftover residue of toxic filtration chemicals still lingered through the air.