Chapter 13
The top bolt gave way with a sharp crack, and Marcus kicked the heavy iron grate inward. It crashed onto the concrete floor of the utility shaft beyond with a dull, echoing thud.
"Vance, get in!" Marcus ordered, grabbing the older officer by his belt loops and shoving him bodily through the narrow opening into the dark, rectangular conduit.
Vance scrambled forward on his hands and knees, coughing violently into his uniform sleeve. Miller covered their rear, sweeping her flashlight beam across the floor of the vault as the white vapor pooled thicker and faster beneath the sealed door, rising knee-high in a dense, glowing fog.
"Marcus, go!" Miller shouted, firing a single round into the digital keypad beside the vault door in a futile attempt to short-circuit the lock. Sparks showered down, but the door remained immovable.
Marcus grabbed her arm, pulling her toward the ventilation opening. "I'm not leaving you behind. Move!"
Together, they tumbled backward into the narrow metal conduit just as Marcus reached back and pulled the iron grate back into place, securing the interior latch as best as he could from the inside. The ventilation shaft was cramped, dark, and smelled intensely of ozone and damp earth, but the air was breathable compared to the poisoned vault they had just escaped.
They crawled on their hands and knees for what felt like miles, the sound of their ragged breathing echoing in the enclosed metal tube. Up ahead, Vance’s flashlight beam bobbed erratically against the corrugated walls as he pushed forward toward a faint glimmer of moonlight filtering through a grate overhead.
"We're coming up near the riverbank," Vance wheezed, his voice weak and strained from the chemical exposure. "The old drainage outflow."
Marcus pushed himself harder, his scraped hands burning against the rough metal rivets of the conduit floor. Behind them, muffled by the layers of steel and earth, a dull, rhythmic thudding indicated that someone—or something—was attempting to force open the ventilation grate they had just secured.
"They're following us," Miller whispered, her flashlight flickered off to preserve the battery as she drew her pistol, keeping it pointed backward down the dark pipe.
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"Keep moving," Marcus commanded, reaching the base of the final vertical shaft that led up to the surface grate.
Vance had already shoved his shoulders against the heavy iron cover, pushing upward with a desperate surge of adrenaline. With a sharp clatter, the grate popped free, tumbling out onto the wet grass of the riverbank as cool, clean night air rushed into the tunnel.
