out of there now. If there was even the tiniest hole in my suit—
The shotgun blast was so close to my head I saw stars. At the same instant I felt a tug along my back, as if my suit had caught on a nail.
I’d tripped one of the rattraps.
As my hearing returned, I could hear three different people screaming in my headset, and I reached around to feel my shoulders, to feel if I’d been hit.
I couldn’t tell. My back felt wet, but was that blood or sweat? This suit was bulky. The pellets might have passed right through.
But if I had holes in my suit the gas would get in.
I crawled faster, full-blown terror taking root in me like I’d never experienced before. I tripped another wire, and a gunshot peppered the shelving unit to my right, but I didn’t stop, I picked up speed, climbing over a body, pushing away dead limbs, biting the inside of my cheek, eyes blurry with tears, had-to-get-out-had-to-get-out-had-to-get-out—
I reached the end of the hall and pulled myself through a doorway, entering a small room. The gas was dissipating, and I could finally see again. My stomach felt like a giant knot, and I teetered on the verge of throwing up. I was also holding my breath, freaked out that gas had gotten inside my suit.
Calm down, Jack,
I said to myself.
Calm it down. You’re still alive.
I opened my mouth, trying to taste the air without breathing it.
Not surprisingly, it tasted like bile.
Squeezing my eyes shut, shaking from the lack of oxygen, I took a shallow breath even though my body craved more air.
No reaction.
I took a bigger breath, and began to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Jack! Are you there! Jack, please answer!”
“I’m still here,” I said, my voice sounding very far away.
I looked around me, saw I was in a bedroom. There was a bed, a closet, a dresser, and a full-length mirror.
I stood up on wobbly legs and walked over to the mirror, getting a profile view.
There were a dozen tiny holes in my suit where the buckshot had ripped through.
“My suit has holes in it.”
“Stay calm. As long as there’s positive air pressure, nothing can get in.”
“You son of a bitch—”
“McGlade, you little—”
“Give me the headset, lardass—”
“I’m gonna kick your—”
An oomph sound, coming from Herb.
“Jack! It’s Harry! You need to get your ass out of there! That tank is almost empty!”
Once again, panic wrapped around me like a blanket.
“Your fat sidekick punched me in the nards before I could tell you. I figure there was maybe four, five minutes of O2 left in that tank. How long have you been in there?”
About four or five minutes, I figured. I looked back down the booby-trapped hallway, gas still lingering in the air, and made my decision.
“I’m going out the back window. Get the paramedics to put a ladder—”
I stopped in mid-step. Both bedroom windows were surrounded by black pipes that didn’t look like they came standard with the house.
“I’m seeing some sort of pipes, sticking out of the window frames.”
“Describe them.”
Rick again.
I didn’t want to get too close, but I forced myself to lean forward.
“Black. They have M44 written on the side.”
“Cyanide bombs. Used for killing animal predators. Don’t go near them.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Unfortunately, that meant I had to go back through the hallway to get out of there.
I began to hyperventilate, which made me even more light-headed than I already was. I got on all fours, reasoning that I’d already tripped the traps at that level and there wouldn’t be any more. The gas had thinned out to the consistency of steam. Crawling over my fallen brethren was even worse this time, now that I could see their bloody faces up close.
“Look, Jackie, if you don’t get out of there alive, I want to be sure that someone helps me out with this liquor license thing.”
Harry sounded so close, I almost turned around, expecting to see him standing over my
The shotgun blast was so close to my head I saw stars. At the same instant I felt a tug along my back, as if my suit had caught on a nail.
I’d tripped one of the rattraps.
As my hearing returned, I could hear three different people screaming in my headset, and I reached around to feel my shoulders, to feel if I’d been hit.
I couldn’t tell. My back felt wet, but was that blood or sweat? This suit was bulky. The pellets might have passed right through.
But if I had holes in my suit the gas would get in.
I crawled faster, full-blown terror taking root in me like I’d never experienced before. I tripped another wire, and a gunshot peppered the shelving unit to my right, but I didn’t stop, I picked up speed, climbing over a body, pushing away dead limbs, biting the inside of my cheek, eyes blurry with tears, had-to-get-out-had-to-get-out-had-to-get-out—
I reached the end of the hall and pulled myself through a doorway, entering a small room. The gas was dissipating, and I could finally see again. My stomach felt like a giant knot, and I teetered on the verge of throwing up. I was also holding my breath, freaked out that gas had gotten inside my suit.
Calm down, Jack,
I said to myself.
Calm it down. You’re still alive.
I opened my mouth, trying to taste the air without breathing it.
Not surprisingly, it tasted like bile.
Squeezing my eyes shut, shaking from the lack of oxygen, I took a shallow breath even though my body craved more air.
No reaction.
I took a bigger breath, and began to laugh and cry at the same time.
“Jack! Are you there! Jack, please answer!”
“I’m still here,” I said, my voice sounding very far away.
I looked around me, saw I was in a bedroom. There was a bed, a closet, a dresser, and a full-length mirror.
I stood up on wobbly legs and walked over to the mirror, getting a profile view.
There were a dozen tiny holes in my suit where the buckshot had ripped through.
“My suit has holes in it.”
“Stay calm. As long as there’s positive air pressure, nothing can get in.”
“You son of a bitch—”
“McGlade, you little—”
“Give me the headset, lardass—”
“I’m gonna kick your—”
An oomph sound, coming from Herb.
“Jack! It’s Harry! You need to get your ass out of there! That tank is almost empty!”
Once again, panic wrapped around me like a blanket.
“Your fat sidekick punched me in the nards before I could tell you. I figure there was maybe four, five minutes of O2 left in that tank. How long have you been in there?”
About four or five minutes, I figured. I looked back down the booby-trapped hallway, gas still lingering in the air, and made my decision.
“I’m going out the back window. Get the paramedics to put a ladder—”
I stopped in mid-step. Both bedroom windows were surrounded by black pipes that didn’t look like they came standard with the house.
“I’m seeing some sort of pipes, sticking out of the window frames.”
“Describe them.”
Rick again.
I didn’t want to get too close, but I forced myself to lean forward.
“Black. They have M44 written on the side.”
“Cyanide bombs. Used for killing animal predators. Don’t go near them.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Unfortunately, that meant I had to go back through the hallway to get out of there.
I began to hyperventilate, which made me even more light-headed than I already was. I got on all fours, reasoning that I’d already tripped the traps at that level and there wouldn’t be any more. The gas had thinned out to the consistency of steam. Crawling over my fallen brethren was even worse this time, now that I could see their bloody faces up close.
“Look, Jackie, if you don’t get out of there alive, I want to be sure that someone helps me out with this liquor license thing.”
Harry sounded so close, I almost turned around, expecting to see him standing over my
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