Part 12 (1/2)

Neither of them was sure of exactly where they were. After about thirty feet and a couple of turns, they were ready to find their way out. There were a few smaller ducts branching off of this main duct, but some of them were too small to fit. They had hoped to find one that would take them down to a lower floor.

Sounds from up ahead caused both to stop, lie down, and ready their side arms. Guillermo tapped Jonathan's leg to get his attention. The teen slid to the side so Guillermo could take the lead. He slowly pulled himself up to the next corner and peeked around.

Turning back to Jonathan, he mouthed, ”It's a person.” He took another look before turning back once more. ”Alive.”

Jonathan could feel his heart begin to race. He had to see this for himself, so he pulled himself up behind Guillermo. Peeking over Guillermo's body, he could see short brown hair on the top of a head and one hairy arm. The chest, which could barely be seen, raised and lowered with each breath under the green s.h.i.+rt.

The two slid back down a few feet, and Jonathan talked softly, ”It looks like a young man. He is alive, but he may still be infected.”

”If he's infected but alive then he should be ok for now. Do you want to check on him?” Guillermo asked. ”I don't want to just leave him here. Besides, I feel good about that direction.”

”I do, also.” Jonathan agreed on the direction. ”Go talk to him.”

Guillermo nodded and pulled himself back to the corner. The young man was still lying there on his side about five feet from them. Sliding around the corner, he reached his left hand out slowly to touch the man's arm. In his right hand, he held a hunting knife that he had brought on his belt. ”Hey, are you ok?”

There was no response. His skin was warm. Guillermo shook him gently. ”Hey,” He said a bit louder. ”Hey, are you alright?”

The young man tensed up. ”Dad, is that you?” He looked at Guillermo. His face was streaked with dirt and tears. ”Dad, I can't see anything.”

”Relax. Your eyes are matted shut.”

The unfamiliar voice caused the young man to panic. ”Please don't hurt me. We were just looking for supplies, I swear. Don't make me go back out there. The sick will tear me apart,” He pushed himself away from Guillermo.

”I'm not here to hurt you. Relax. We just want to help,” Guillermo said in the most calming voice he could find.

”Shane? It's me, Jonathan Sawyer.”

”Jonathan? How did you get here? It's good to see someone else survived.” Shane Marshall sat up, yet he remained apprehensive. His voice was scratchy. He was tall, his short brown hair was messy, his lips were dry and cracked, and his overall appearance was unkempt.

Shane and Jonathan had gone to school together since kindergarten. He had played every sport available to him, and although he picked on Jonathan from time to time, he often found himself asking for help with school work to maintain his eligibility to play sports.

”Do you know where you are?” Jonathan took his hand and gave him a moist towelete from an MRE he had brought.

”Yeah, we are in the science lab. We came here looking for supplies. Me and my family. I don't think they made it, though,” Saying the last part out loud made him feel as though he had just swallowed a golf ball. He wiped his eyes with the wet towelete, partly to remove the crusty buildup, but also to hide the new tears.

”Here, take this, but drink slowly.” Jonathan handed him the rest of the MRE as soon as Shane could see again.

”Thanks.” Shane wasted no time with the warmer pack as he dug into the spaghetti and water.

”How long have you been in here?” Guillermo asked.

Shane took a big drink of the water to wash down the mouthful of food. ”A day, maybe two. It's hard to tell when you've been in a vent.”

”We have two others with us. We will all get out of this vent, and then we will get you to safety,” Guillermo added.

”Have you explored the vents much? Do you know how to get off of this floor?” Jonathan asked.

”Yeah, but I can't find a safe way out. Every exit leads into a room filled with those sick people. The weird thing is, there is no way to reach any other floor's vents. I tried making it down to the first floor,” Shane replied.

”Yeah, each floor probably has its own ventilation. Some of the labs up here are able to reach very low temperatures, so I am a.s.suming we are just inside a cooling duct. Each room would have a separate cooling or heating system. Also, there is the risk of chemical vapors being mixed in the air ducts,” Jonathan explained although he wasn't quite sure of that himself.

”So we have to find a way out on this floor?” Guillermo asked. ”Let's just find where the ventilation system connects with the outside. That would put us on the roof right?”

”The only lines that connect are too small,” Shane stated. ”That was my first thought, also.”

”Those smaller ducts must connect directly to the cooling system then,” Jonathan said. ”My father was able to escape through an air duct that led to the roof.”

”Yeah?” Shane jumped in before Jonathan could answer. ”So how do we get to the air ducts?”

”Well,” Jonathan said calmly. ”Let's just take a minute to think this through.”

Jonathan moved down the vent a few feet, lying down on his back, he took a minute to think. They would give Shane a chance to regain some of his strength, and then they would move along. He knew they couldn't wait long, however, as he didn't want to think about Roger and Deacon being surrounded by the fiends.

Chapter 19.

Roger walked through the dark hallway with Deacon close behind. The two men were becoming increasingly more aware of the danger. The fiends could be heard lurking about in the labs as they pa.s.sed, yet they never attacked.

”Something's not right,” Roger pointed out. ”They know we're here. Why aren't they coming for us?”

”There is no way they have gotten smart on us, is there? I mean, maybe they are waiting for something.” Deacon couldn't shake the tension from his muscles.

”I don't like this. Let's find the others and get the h.e.l.l out of here.” Roger moved toward the door that leads to the fourth floor stairwell.

Deacon stepped through the doorway first while Roger watched the hall behind them. The b.l.o.o.d.y stairs no longer fazed either of them. After checking both below and above, Deacon whispered the all-clear, and the two moved up to the fourth floor.

”Looks pretty empty up here. Jon and Guillermo must be up one more, yeah?” Deacon s.h.i.+ned his light slowly down the hall.

”They must be. Jonathan said the stairs to the fifth floor is behind the security desk.” Roger pointed to the door. ”You want to take a quick look here to be sure?”

”Might as well. You wait here. I'll walk down the hall real fast. Watch my back,” Deacon said in a loud whisper.

Roger nodded, backed up to the wall, and readied his AR-15. Many thoughts have circulated through his head over the past few months. More, even, over the last few weeks. He did not care for the person he had become.

After each shower, Roger stood facing the mirror, pondering who he was supposed to be. The blood on his hands could never be washed away. He saw it every time he looked. The mistakes he made would haunt him forever. He was a stubborn man, however, and he had no intentions of letting those mistakes affect the rest of his miserable life.

Lowering his weapon, Roger watched as Deacon moved further away. To let him die would be easy enough. Deacon did not deserve death though, nor did Bradley for that matter. Tyson had not even had a chance to live his life.

”What life would he have had, anyway?” Roger asked under his breath.

Inhaling deeply, Roger raised the rifle up. He did not want to be a murderer, but he had already walked down that path. He wondered if there would be a way back. With the AR-15 raised and held firmly against his shoulder, Roger prepared to fire.

Deacon had made it to the end of the hallway. Before he could turn to begin his walk back the single shot stopped him where he stood. He could feel something wet on his back. He wiped his fingers across the wet skin on the back of his neck. Looking at his hands he saw the blood. He felt for an exit wound on his chest, and then looked at the hole the bullet had made in the wall. It was two feet to his left, eye level, and he realized that it had not hit him.

Turning back down the hall, he saw Roger standing where he had left him, rifle raised. The two fiends that lay on the floor had not been there on the walk down. ”What a shot, mate,” Deacon said as he looked down at the two bodies, each one missing most of its head.

”It looks like you have some brains on the back of your s.h.i.+rt there.” Roger pointed out as Deacon made it back to him.