armory for grens and plas ex with which the replenish the stocks kept within the canvas bag he carried.
When both men had completed their tasks, they exchanged looks and then began to make their way out of the armory and toward the exit.
The six companions converged when they neared the main corridor, which led to the exit sec door. They had to take the emergency stairs between levels where the elevator was the only means of access between levels. Some redoubts were ramped all the way through, others had only elevators between some or all of the levels. It depended on the purpose for which the particular redoubt had been built.
In this instance, the redoubt was a relatively small installation that would have carried a military complement of no more than one hundred, and had no wags or troop carriers stashed in its depths. So a consistent ramp hadnât been necessary, and the companions were left to make their way up the emergency stairs.
The darkness became filled with bright lights that flickered and raced only in their own skulls as the poor air made them light-headed with the lack of oxygen. It said much about the staleness of the air on the stairwell that the atmosphere on reaching the exit onto the main corridor seemed sweeter.
Each of them gulped down lungfuls of the stale air, sucking the oxygen from it to compensate for the burning in their lungs. But the comparative sweetness was dangerously deceptive. There was still very little oxygen in this part of the redoubt and all they succeeded in doing was filling their systems with yet more carbon dioxide.
Every step was now an effort, like swimming through sludge, as they made their way along the corridor toward the sec door that led to the outside. The corridor seemed to lengthen like an optical illusion, the door zooming away into the distance as molten lead filled their limbs.
If the sec door refused to open, then there was no knowing how they would get out. There was no guarantee that the main door had a manual override, though most did. But even if there was one, there was no knowing if they had the strengthâany of themâto operate it before the final darkness descended.
The interior lighting was still working in that area of the redoubt, and they moved under neon strip lighting that seemed to move away at speed toward the silent and imposing exit door.
Maybe that was a good sign. Maybe the electricity was working in this section.
Jak took the initiative. Unlike the others, his wiry frame dictated a lesser capacity for oxygen, and his shallow breathing gave him an edge over the others. Measuring every pace so that he didnât waste energy, draw in any more of a breath than was necessary, he hurried to the keypad that triggered the main sec door lock. Lagging behind, the others watched as though from a great distance, willing him to reach the door, willing the system to still be operable.
Narrowing his eyes to focus as the extra effort and the poor quality of air made his vision swim before him, he carefully tapped in the numbers and waited. There was no lever to press.
It seemed like forever, but could have been only a second or two, slowed only by the failing circuitry to respond immediately. The door creaked and moaned, and lifted slowly, air rushing in from beneath the ever-widening gap as the differing volumes on each side attracted the outside atmosphere.
And the sand.
There was a desert outside the redoubt, and one that had filled the small enclave that housed the redoubt entrance. Most of the redoubts had either been built into outcrops or in small valleys to mask the entrance in those predark times. The corridors from the main door leading into the complex itself was usually on an incline, built so that the gradient was hardly noticeable. But still there: it had made the struggle toward the exit door from the emergency stairwell that bit harder, that much closer to a gradual fade from consciousness.
But now they gulped greedily at the fresh air that came in through the opening door. The light outside, and the heat that flooded in, suggested that it was the middle of the day. The sand spilled down the incline, trails of grain snaking around their feet, around their hands and knees as they sank down, thankful that they were now able to breathe freely.
It took Krysty a little while to realize what was happening. Unlike the others, who were either unable to focus or had their eyes closed, concentrating on drinking in the fresh air, the Titian-haired beauty was looking down and could see the sand build up around her hands, planted on the floor of the corridor, flowing and growing so that it covered her knuckles, then the backs of her hands, burying them up to the wrist and flowing around her calves and thighs, pulling at her as she tried to free them.
She yelled, wordless, and after the lack of air it came out as a dry, hushed croak, but it was enough to make the others look up.
The entrance to the redoubt had to have been buried in a sand dune, and the opening of the door had set up a movement in the sands that were drawing them into the tunnel, down the slope, flowing at speed. There was sky visible above the sand, but also a vast wall of the almost liquid grains that were slowly sweeping toward them, growing with momentum as the mass began to move.
Marshaling what strength he could, the lactic acids in his muscles that hadnât dispersed easily with the decreasing oxygen making his limbs feel like they were filled with molten metal, Ryan got to his feet, pulling himself free of the sand so that it only flowed around his calves. He could feel the growing strength of it as the momentum of the fall built. Unless the companions moved quickly, the sea of sand would sweep them all back into the redoubt, crushing them against one of the closed interior sec doors, suffocating them before they had a chance to break free.
J.B. and Mildred were also on their feet, the black woman casting her eyes around for Doc. His frail physique meant that he had suffered the most from lack of oxygen and was the most vulnerable right now. She grunted as she located him. He was still on all fours, looking down, barely aware that the sea of sand was burying him, now up to his elbows and halfway up his thighs. If he didnât move quickly, it would cover him and start to smother the life from him.
Jak, recovering quicker than the others, had taken in what was happening and used the flow of the sand to save energy that was only just returning, surfing the sand back to where the others were moving, almost in slow motion. The wiry albino joined Mildred, and they tugged Doc free of the sand, hauling him to his feet. He grunted and whispered to himself, wordless mutterings that were masked by his inability to speak through a parched throat. His eyes were staring and vacant. Whatever Doc was seeing, it wasnât the corridor before him.
Jak and Mildred began to haul themselves out of the sand, struggling to move their still-leaden limbs against the flow, hampered by Docâs near deadweight. As they moved forward, Ryan and J.B. stepped in to help, joined by Krysty when they reached the point at which she stood. The six companions formed a chain, uniting their strengthâfailing as it wasâto fight against the flow of the sand to try to reach the yellow-tinged sky that lay at the top of the spilling wall.
It was like swimming in a swamp: the current of the sand wanted to pull them back into the redoubt, but they fought against it, even though their limbs ached and their lungs, still fighting to make up oxygen deficit, felt like bursting.
With every fiber screaming for them to stop, to just give in and let the sand sweep them down into its warm and welcoming depths, they crested the wave that flowed from the peak of the wall, struggling until they were past the top and pulling themselves over sand that was barely moving.
The world swum around them, stars and lights flickering inside their skulls, their lungs screaming for more air. It was only now that they were on the outside, away from the fetid air of the redoubt, that Mildred realized why it had been such a struggle. Out here,
