Interversal

8

By the time she reached the door she counted fourteen more corpses in a space of 20 feet. She did some quick mental math and guessed there were another 185 or so spread across the space. And that the pile she'd landed on must have been made up mostly of the reporters who'd been seated way in the back of the room. The thought made her skin crawl.

It must have been worse outside, but she couldn't think about that. At least not now.

She remembered something her dad used to tell her, when she was scared as a kid. He'd tell her to breath, and if she could, let her mind wander even just a little. When you're nervous you can't fix anything, he'd say.

She stood, closed her eyes, and told herself to accept what had happened. This was her reality now, act accordingly.

The gravitational disruption allowed the bodies to float from the upper landing into the space above. Corpses in the lower area were either trapped by the lower ceiling or made their way up with the others. When gravity returned, they fell into one big, morbid pile, a gruesome airbag that saved her life.

Her hand reached ahead blindly groping for the doorway. Though her eyes had adjusted, the narrow corridor that led to it was completely dark. She knew she'd find the handle eventually, just so long as she kept moving forward. Just then she caught her foot on something. She let out a loud cry of pain followed by a string of obscenities.

Why doesn't this fucking place have a backup generator?

She wondered if it was possible for a facility this size, with this much important equipment, not to have backup power. It didn't seem likely given everything she knew, all the things that could be damaged by an abrupt power outage. But the total darkness told her the backup was down too, and that was all she needed to know.

At first the door refused to open and for a second Alex thought it was locked. Then she put her weight into it, shoving the handle down as she rocked forward. It moved a few inches but something was blocking the way, so she kept pushing until there was enough space to squeeze first a foot, then a leg and eventually her entire body between the door and frame.

After the first shove, she felt whatever was blocking the other side roll away from, then back onto the door. It slammed into Alex, knocking her, squishing an already bruised and battered right leg. She winced with pain, cursing herself for being so stupid as not to get out of the way.

Undeterred, she got low next to the door, leaning into it at a steep angle. Her hands on the bar, she drove her legs into the ground and pushed with everything she had, not stopping until it was halfway open. On the other side she heard what she now knew was a body rolling until it came to a rest on the industrial carpet.

Stepping through the doorway some of the flat light poured into the hallway. There on the ground was the guard. He was big, at least two hundred pounds and probably six feet tall. And very dead.

Finding the flashlight was the worst thing she'd had to do by far. After a quick search of the man's pockets she determined it must be on the part of the belt that was between his body and the floor.

Great.

Alex rolled him onto his side and groped for the metal light she wasn't sure she'd find. But it was there, and after fumbling with the clip that held it to the belt, she freed it from the lifeless body.

A beam of light filled the narrow corridor followed by a warm wave of relief that poured over her as she peered around the hallway to got her bearings. She was beginning to remember it now, feeling slightly more in control with each pan of the light. She looked high along the walls for an exit sign and her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw the red plastic bearing white letters, reading "Sortie". Exit.