Shakespearian tragedy.
“What can we do to help, sir?” Gonzalez asks.
The noise from outside of the room prevents me from hearing all of what she said. After several tries, I finally hear the entire message.
“Prayer might help,” I reply.
“Copy that, sir, one prayer on the way.”
I glance up at the ceiling. The roof is only a few feet over our head but it might as well be a hundred miles. Even if the teams had explosives on hand, they wouldn’t be able to pinpoint Lynn and me well enough to blow an effective hole in the roof. I certainly don’t have anything that will blast through the concrete overhead. Besides, judging by the weakening doors, we wouldn’t have enough time to set up anything anyway.
However, the ceiling does give me an idea and one I should have thought about a while ago. The hard ceilings have crawl spaces between it and the concrete slab that house the piping and conduits necessary for building operations. The spaces aren’t large in most cases but they are navigable. The only problem is that fire walls could block our path. The good thing is that this type of ceiling is more structurally sound than a plain drop ceiling and will support our weight better. I just hope the night runners don’t discover the crawlways.
“Do you feel strong enough to crawl in the ceiling?” I ask Lynn, knowing she must be tired and her energy level low.
“I’ll manage,” she replies.
We head to the far corner of the room. With my selector switch on auto, I send bursts into the ceiling, angling them so any ricochets don’t come back our way. I stitch a large square pattern in the corner. I move one of the tables under the spot and place another on top of it. Moving a third table next to the stacked ones, I create a large stepping stool of sorts.
I climb up and bash next to the holes with the stock of my M-4. A square chunk of ceiling falls to the table showering me with white dust. The banging of the doors grows stronger and is barely heard over screams so loud that my ears begin to ring. The night runners are slowly but surely forcing the doors open through sheer strength, determination, and numbers.
I boost Lynn into the limited space above. Replacing my mag and strapping my M-4 tightly, I hoist myself though the hole. The space is large enough to get through at an almost doubled over crouch. Small diameter metal and plastic conduit hangs down from the concrete slab overhead sharing space with rectangular aluminum HVAC ducting. The path is blocked by a concrete fire wall to the east, toward the front of the building.
Keeping as quiet as we can, we wriggle through and over conduit to the wall on the other side of the hallway. We won’t get very far in any direction due to the fire walls but at least we can get out of the trapped room. Pipes and ducting heads from the main channels and bends ninety degrees down into rooms. It’s pretty easy to tell rooms from hallways because of the layout of the conduits.
The noise from below vibrates the ceiling causing dirt particles to jump up and down. The hallways were chilled but here, in the confined space above, it’s a lot warmer. I feel grit in my hair and on my exposed skin as we make our way slowly south. Soon we butt up against another fire wall. We have no choice but to go down.
I take out my heavy LMF knife and punch through the ceiling where I calculate a room to be based on the piping and by tapping. It wouldn’t do to escape from the room only to drop down into the same hall as the gathered horde. I imagine the night runners must stretch a considerable distance in the hall to either side of the room we were in. Even though the screeching of the night runners will most likely block out the noise of my suppressed M-4, the confined space makes using it a little unwieldy. I carve out another square, not quite finishing the opening. Grabbing a section, I lift it up, lay it beside me, and peer into the room.
We’ve come upon a small office. An elongated desk occupies one wall, with two rolling chairs next to it. Workstation monitors and a pile of folders sit on the desk’s surface.
“Are you okay?” I ask Lynn, to which, she nods.
I edge my legs into the hole, making sure I don’t knock anything over, and drop onto the desk. I then help Lynn down. We aren’t out of it yet but at least we have a little breathing space — hopefully.
A door exits into another hallway out of view of the main hall crowded with night runners. However, with the number of night runners, the hall on the other side of the door could easily be filled with them. I ease the fiber scope under the door, careful to check for feet prior to inserting it all of the way out into the corridor. It’s empty for the moment, but the shrieks still shaking the walls let us know that the night runners are still very close. I also can’t assume that all of the night runners in the building are actually at the door. There may be many others hunting the hallways or rushing to join.
“Okay…it’s clear. We’ll creep along and make sure each hallway intersection is clear. I’ll lead. If we’re discovered, we make a run for the east side. Those are the closest outside offices which will give us access to daylight. That’s our goal,” I say, putting the scope away.
“Let’s do it,” Lynn says, readying her sidearm.
I ease the door open and, with a last check, we slip silently into the hall. I don’t know how long we’ll go undiscovered. I’m not sure that the smoke still covers my scent and I know they’ll smell Lynn. I just hope they are so focused on the doors that it will go unnoticed. We glide down the halls, avoiding the empty gurneys and rolling carts crowded against the walls.
At the first corner we come to, I look down the hall in both directions. Toward the room we escaped from, several packs of night runners are running to and fro in frustration, attempting to find a way in. They are some distance down the passageway but there’s no way we’ll be able to cross here without being seen. I notice a change in the tempo and tone of the shrieks. The night runners that are visible all turn and look in our direction. As one, they begin streaking for us.
“They’re onto us. Straight ahead, go!” I yell, grabbing a grenade at my vest.
Pulling the pin, I let the grenade fly down the hall toward the night runners quickly closing in and take off after Lynn. I catch her just as we cross through the next juncture. A rocking explosion temporarily drowns out the screams. As I have the greater firepower, I take the lead in case we encounter any night runners that attempt to block our path. I glance behind and see night runners pouring into the hall behind us. I ready another grenade.
“Right at the next intersection,” I shout.
I toss the grenade behind as we near the crossing. The turn is to take us out of the hall so we don’t get peppered by shrapnel. As we turn, five night runners enter the corridor at the junction ahead of us. We are charging toward each other and the distance quickly dwindles.
I raise my carbine and begin firing bursts into their midst just as the grenade goes off behind. The first two go down as if tripped, hitting the floor hard. Still, we race toward each other. Another burst sends a night runner crashing into a rolling cart, tipping it over and spilling its contents to the ground with a crash. I hear two gunshot reports over my shoulder and watch as the two remaining night runners fall. The first flips backward with its feet in the air and the other follows in the same manner a split second later making it look like the two executed a poorly timed synchronized swimming maneuver.
We push past the bodies and turn left as we make our way once again to the east. The halls are filled with such a volume of noise that it seems like a physical presence — which, technically, I guess it is. Doors fly by as we streak down the passage. The grenades slowed the night runners, but they are catching up again. It’s a race for outer offices. It’s one I’m not sure we’re going to win.
As we pass another hallway crossing, I glance left and see night runners streaking past just one hall over. Some stop and turn after us with others surging ahead. They’re faster than we are so there’s a good chance they can draw ahead and trap us. The doors at the far end of the hall draw closer. I feel the toil of the morning beginning to take hold. One can rely on adrenaline for only so long before the body wilts, and we’ve been at an all-out sprint. My breath is starting to get ragged despite my best attempts to push my body on. I don’t know how Lynn is holding up as well as she is. That’s one thing I’ve always admired about her — her toughness.
Crossing yet another junction, I see an unlit sign indicating a stairwell with an emergency exit sign next to the door. This must lead to the stairs I initially attempted to enter. I curse the fact that the door is still tied off or we’d be able use it to escape to the roof. Looking left, night runners are halfway down the hall coming toward us. If these were from the same group that we passed a junction ago, they are gaining a half hall’s length on us with each intersection we pass through. That means we’ll collide head on at the next intersection with the others who plowed ahead. With the night runners now close on our trail, we’ll be trapped between the two groups.
