I'm A Part of an Expedition Sent to the Ural Mountains

I'm A Part of an Expedition Sent to the Ural Mountains - Chapter One: Part Three

As we stepped into the next tunnel, the sensors on our suits sprang to life, flashing biohazard alerts. The air was contaminated, the ash swirling around us like dark, creeping veins. Structured and reinforced, it was designed to withstand whatever had been unleashed here. The reinforced ceiling was like a malignant growth; the residue floating in the air of the tunnel bore the same blackened mass that lined the entry level of the facility, except here, it was more sinister, snaking across the ceiling and walls.

I whispered to Emma, "Why is this tunnel covered in ash, but the lab was so clean?"

She shook her head, unable to answer. "We should press forward," she said finally.

She shook her head, unable to answer. "We should press forward," she said finally. Doctor Rachel Gorshkovsky, the Russian biologist and microbiologist who was a last-minute addition to the team, peered at her instruments, her eyes narrowing through the visor. "Biohazard readings are off the chart. Heavy particulates in the air, on everything... Like a fine soot. The readings say that dust is smaller than anthrax, spores of 1-2 μm in diameter. Everyone, these suits are the only thing that's gonna keep us alive, so watch yourselves. And to answer your question, the staging area must have been a clean zone."

I glanced over at Emma White, who adjusted her visor with a grim expression. "Are we sure these suits can handle it?" she asked, her voice low but firm.

"They'd better," I muttered, scanning the darkened tunnel ahead. "What else are we gonna rely on?"

Doctor James Reid, standing nearby, inspected his gear and gave a quick nod. "No choice now. Let's keep moving and hope these seals hold."

Sergeant Silvia Rosa, leading the way with her rifle at the ready, glanced back. "Different sections, different protocols. Whatever happened, it started here. The cleanup never reached these depths."

As we advanced, the ground beneath our feet felt increasingly treacherous, the air thick with particles that danced like specters in our flashlight beams. The eerie silence was punctuated only by the occasional crackle of our radios and the steady beep of our suit sensors.

"Stay sharp," Captain Helms commanded from the front of the line. "We don't know what's active down here. Keep a close formation," Captain Helms ordered. "No stragglers."

With the vault door locked behind us, we ventured deeper, our MABS rifles at the ready, the ash swirling around us like a silent storm.

After an hour of cautious progress, Private Waters's flashlight beam swept across the tunnel, catching on a form lying face down, and another Russian soldier lay slumped against the corridor wall, the black ash caking his armored NBC suit. He edged closer, the light illuminating an armored NBC suit, "Over here!" he called out, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

Lieutenant Bishop Heart knelt by the body, checking for identification. The ash-coated armored NBC suit made it hard to identify the fallen soldier. He carefully turned the figure over, revealing a grim, soot-covered face. His visor was cracked, the seal broken. We paused for a moment, silence falling over the corridor as the weight of this discovery settled on us. Whatever had happened here wasn't over. The oppressive stillness of the tunnel pressed down on us, and we knew that what lay ahead would demand every ounce of caution we could muster.

Doctor Rachel Gorshkovsky adjusted her respirator, leaning in closer. "The suit's intact. He must've taken a direct hit."

Lieutenant Heart ran his gloved fingers over the scorched walls, which were riddled with holes from heavy weapons fire. "This was a desperate fight."

Captain Helms's voice cut through the static. "We need to move forward."

As I stood by the fallen soldier, the black ash swirling like fine dust around his body, my mind couldn't help but flicker back to that sweltering summer in Africa. Emma and I had been dispatched by the UN to contain a viral outbreak, something highly infectious but largely unknown. We arrived with a team of virologists and local health officials, yet it was already too late—the disease had breached containment, spreading through the village like wildfire. Local customs and mistrust of outsiders made it nearly impossible to implement proper safety measures.