Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Contagion"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Nineteen

IT DIDN’T TAKE Ewan and Eric very long to go back outside and find the box. They brought the whole thing back down to level three, not wanting to transport the explosive without any form of protection.

There was very little of the PBX left, and only one detonator, a spare they had originally brought in case it was required to blow the door. The submariners assured Jake that the small amount remaining would be more than enough to make a sizeable hole in the bottom of the lift car.

The four men took refuge in a store room around a corner. Ewan would have liked to have put more distance between them and the explosive, but they were limited by the available connecting wire.

“I hope this is worth it,” Eric sighed. “That one’s an EBW detonator we’re about to burn. We should have taken another one from a spearfish as our spare.”

Ewan looked at him sideways on. “You think that one would be better off sitting in one of our nukes?”

“One of our nukes is now just dead weight, since we sabotaged it to get that detonator out!”

“And you’re unhappy about that? Seriously? You think we’d be better off hanging onto weapons of mass destruction than using them to potentially save a few thousands lives?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Eric said defensively.

“Whatever, guys, let’s leave the arms debate for later. Can we do this?” Vardy said, shaking his head.

Eric smiled. “Hold onto your hats!” He squeezed his thumb over a small electronic trigger. From outside came the muffled sound of an explosion, a dead thud, like something very heavy being dropped on the floor.

“That’s it?” Jake asked. He looked mildly disappointed. “I was expecting something…bigger.”

“Should be more than enough. Come on, let’s take a look.”

Ewan was right. The explosive had taken out the whole underside of the lift car. Torch beams illuminated the deep hole below.

“Well blow me down,” Vardy exclaimed. “It does go deeper! The sneaky so-and-sos. I would never have guessed. Look, there’s a ladder running down the side of the shaft. Must be for maintenance or emergencies. Ewan, do you want to lead on?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Ewan climbed over the books, his foot looking for purchase. It found a rung. He tried putting some weight on it. Happy that the explosive hadn’t damaged its integrity, he put his torch in his belt and tried to get his other foot onto the ladder. It wasn’t a simple job; there was nothing to hold onto inside the lift car. He retracted his foot and stood balanced on what little of the floor remained.

“Eric, pass me the broom handles.”

“Sure, here you are.”

“Thanks.”

He positioned the handles lengthways across the hole in the floor. Bending over, he placed a hand on each handle, lowered one foot down onto the ladder, then the other. He descended a couple of rungs, then took his hands off the broom handles and gripped the upper rungs.

“A bit unconventional,” he said, “but it works. See you guys down there.”

Eric and Vardy followed, leaving Jake to go down last. He still felt dizzy. His head refused to clear completely. The contortions in the lift car didn’t help, and again he questioned why he had insisted on coming along. By the time he made it to the bottom of the ladder, the others had managed to get the doors open.

“Well that was easier!” Vardy said, his mood lifting.

“Only one set of doors, no lift car to content with,” Ewan said. He stepped out of the shaft, and the others followed.

• • •

Mandy Chalmers had valiantly ignored Jake’s demand to take a break for as long as possible, but the workload had taken its toll. The lack of sleep combined with the physical exertion of attending to so many sick people in so many different cabins was too much. But it wasn’t the limit of her own energy and strength that finally forced her to stop, it was the limit of their supplies.

“Mandy, where can I find more painkillers?”

She looked around to find one of the new nurses quizzing her. The poor woman already looked shattered herself.

“Everything we have is in cabin 845.”

“There aren’t any left in there, I’ve looked all over.”

“Then that’s it, we’re out. I’m sorry, that’s all we had.”

“But I’ve got five new cases just been admitted. All paralysed, all in pain.”

“All you can do is try and make them comfortable. Cold wet blankets might help reduce their temperature.”

“No can do. Until they get the power back on, there’s still no running water.”

“I don’t know, Jenny, I’m sorry!” Mandy snapped. She sank into the nearest seat, an armchair that had been moved out onto a landing to make more room in a cabin. “Sorry, I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“Don’t sweat it, we’re all on edge.”

“Listen, you’ll have to improvise. We’re on a ship, get some sea water up here in a bucket or something. I can’t magic drugs out of thin air, and I can’t make the power come on. We have to face it, we’re losing. These people will probably all be dead this time tomorrow. Us too. A bit more or a bit less suffering isn’t going to change anything.”

“Mandy, don’t talk like that. Where there’s life there’s hope. That’s what Janice said when she brought that engineer up.”

“Mmm, maybe,” Mandy said dreamily. She was sinking into her chair, the soft cushions enveloping her, inviting her to relax for the first time since she had been pressed into service. Her eyelids became unbearably heavy, closing of their own accord. Images of the sick, the dying, and the dead swirled in her mind. Their faces twisted, contorted, and morphed into the faces of her brothers and sisters, of her mother, before fading away to nothingness as sleep claimed her.

• • •

Level four was nothing like the others above it. Gone was the sterile hospital look, the whitewashed walls, and the polished concrete floors. Gone was the recessed lighting, the false ceiling, and the discreet air vents. Level four was an altogether more industrial space, and a more intimidating one too.

The four men had emerged into a dark grey concrete tunnel. The floor was a metal grate covering the channel that ran down the middle of the passage. The ceiling was double the height of the other floors. Huge metal ducts were suspended from it and alongside them ran bright red pipes dotted with sprinkler outlets.

“No halon system down here then,” Jake remarked.

“I think it might be a good idea if we all put our gas masks back on,” Vardy said gravely. “Best not to take chances. Come on, let’s try this way.” He headed off to the left, pulling his mask over his face and tightening the straps. The others followed suit.

The dark passage swallowed up the beams of their torches almost mockingly. It was impossible to see more than a few metres ahead.

The first opening they came to wasn’t a door; it was a gap in the wall. Eric went in, scanning the area with his light. It was immediately clear they were in a vast space; they couldn’t see any walls.

“What is this place, Russell?” Jake asked.

He didn’t reply. Instead he walked further into the opening, until his own torch finally picked out an object. He traced its outline, or as much of it as the puny beam was able to. It was a gigantic cylinder.

“That looks like a diesel tank,” Jake said. “We have the same on the Spirit of Arcadia. I don’t think ours are that big though.”

“I don’t think this tank was made to hold diesel,” Vardy said. He was walking alongside it, trying to see just how massive it was. His light picked out an image, a skull and cross bones. Underneath, in stencilled lettering, was written one word: “Biohazard.”

“Jesus,” Eric exclaimed. “Russell, you never said this place was a fully fledged chemical weapons factory!”

“I had no idea,” the doctor whispered. “I honestly had no idea. I thought it was just a research lab.”

“I hate to cut short the sight-seeing trip,” Ewan called from the passage, “but perhaps we can get on with looking for that lab? Time is of the essence here.”

“Vardy!” Jake tugged at his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

He was clearly reluctant to leave without exploring, but dutifully followed the others back out to the dingy passage.

They followed the tunnel around a corner, and came to a door. It was a thick, high-security metal door, and the sign on the front read: “Top Secret, Authorised Personnel Only.” It was the kind of door that was not meant to be breached. It was also ajar.

“Everyone’s mask on?” Vardy looked around, checking each of them in turn. “Right then, after me.”

He pushed the door and stepped through.

Jake was no scientist or doctor, but even to him it was obvious they were in the right place. After passing through a small lobby and a second door, presumably designed to hide the outside from those inside, they found themselves in a fully equipped laboratory. The four men swept the room with their torches, picking out six long benches. They were filled with test tubes, beakers, flasks, electronic equipment, computers, and stacks of books. Beyond, doors led to a dormitory, the office space, and a kitchen. All exactly as Vardy had described. And as Jake had guessed, the combined space was visibly much larger than any of the blocks on the level above.

“Bloody hell,” Jake said, stunned by all the machines. “What is all this stuff?”

“Mostly standard equipment in here,” Vardy replied. “You’ve got an inverse gas chromatograph next to you there, and an infrared spectrometer. This is an x-ray refractometer, and next to it a non-contacting laser profilometer…hmm, that’s new.” He walked between the benches, scanning the machines. “This looks like a fluorescence polarisation system, and here’s a free radical analyser; that could come in handy. Over there is another spectrometer—a mass spectrometer—very expensive. And over on that bench are the spray dryers, fluid extractors, blenders, evaporators—”

“Russell, we’re not here on a shopping trip. Where’s your special machine?”

“Here, I’ve found it.” The doctor’s light beam rested on a large square box, about the size and shape of an upturned washing machine. It was made of sky blue metal and was loaded with an array of knobs and switches, as well as some useful carrying handles. Embossed on the front was the name and model number: “Heimat Brinkdolph Gemini 5001”.

“One of you help me, will you?”

“Er, okay,” Eric said. He grabbed a pair of handles. Russell took hold of the other pair, and they heaved the machine up off the floor with a grunt. Eric was surprised just how heavy it was.

“These will be useful too,” Russell said, using his face to point out boxes of test tubes, syringes, and latex gloves, all of which Ewan collected up and placed on top of the machine. “Okay, let’s get out of here.” The others were happy to oblige and all made straight for the exit.

“Which way was it?” Eric asked once they were back outside in the grey tunnel.

“Left,” Vardy said, and started walking.

“Jake? What is it? Come on, we need to stay close together,” Ewan urged. But Jake remained rooted to the spot. “Hey, what is it? What’s up?”

“It’s my legs,” Jake said, his voice cracking slightly. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Twenty

VARDY AND ERIC put down the machine. Jake didn’t move but remained rooted to the spot, speechless.

“Here, let us help you,” Ewan said quietly. “Eric and I can help you walk.” They stood either side of him and, placing his arms over their shoulders, tried to half-carry him along.

“It’s no good,” Jake said eventually. “My legs aren’t going to move. This isn’t going to work.”

Vardy had joined them. He squatted down and placed his hands around Jake’s ankles, squeezing and prodding, working his way up.

“Can you feel this?”

“No.”

“What about this?”

“No.”

“How about here?”

“Russell, you’re wasting time. We all know what this is.”

“No, we don’t!” Ewan shook his head violently. “It might be temporary; your gas mask might be blocked. Maybe you’re not getting enough oxygen.”

“Ewan, it’s the virus. It’s obviously the virus. This isn’t temporary. It’s not going to go away.”

“Then we’ll carry you back to the ship. We’ll take you to the raft then come back for the machine.”

Eric and Vardy remained silent.

“Ewan, it’s going to take too long to do all of that. Besides, you’ll have a hell of a job getting me up that lift shaft. You’re going to have enough trouble getting the machine up there. Take the machine and go. I can wait here.”

“No! We can’t leave you, that’s out of the question.”

“You have to. Everyone’s lives depend on getting that machine back to the Spirit of Arcadia, on making a cure. We’re all infected, you as well. I’m just further along. Time is running out.”

“He’s right.” Vardy spoke up at last, but he couldn’t look Jake in the eye.

“What? You’re a doctor, you can’t agree to leave a man down here to die!” Ewan shouted, not willing to accept the truth. “You took an oath!”

“Ewan, we’re not leaving him to die. We’ll come back for him. He’s right, more lives will be lost the longer we delay. We’re wasting time even arguing about this. We have to go now.”

“Come on, mate,” Eric said, putting a hand on his colleague’s shoulder to pull him away.

“No, you can’t force me to come with you. If he’s staying, then I’m staying here with him.”

“Ewan, I appreciate your concern, but they need you more than I do. I’ll be fine,” Jake said solemnly. “You need to help them get that machine back. It will be quicker with three of you.”

“I can’t just abandon you, Jake. We need you. The ship needs you!”

“The ship needs a cure, and you’re stopping them from getting one. I’m not your captain, I can’t give you a direct order. But I am on the committee, and on behalf of that governing body of survivors, I am asking you, please, go with the other two and get that machine safely to the Arcadia.”

Ewan looked at Jake, then he looked at the other two men who were collecting up the Heimat Brinkdolph Gemini 5001, and he looked back at Jake.

“Go!” Jake urged him.

“We’re coming back for you, Jake. Okay? We’re coming back!”

Vardy and Ewan had already started walking back up the dark tunnel, the sound of their footsteps disappearing into the distance. With one last look back at Jake, Ewan turned and followed them. Jake flicked off his torch, conserving the remaining battery, and stood alone in the darkness for a full minute before his legs gave way beneath him and he crashed to the ground.

• • •

“There, that all seems to be in order. All we need now is for your lot to flick a switch and power us up.” Tom Sanderson stood back, one hand on his hips, the other wiping a little sweat from his brow.

“We have a few checks to run on our side first,” Gunson said, “but we should have power restored within thirty minutes.” He held out a hand, and there was an awkward moment before Tom realised it was for him to shake. “Mr Sanderson, it’s been a pleasure working with you. If ever you would like a tour of our submarine…”

“All that new-fangled atomic power goes over my head, Mr Gunson. But perhaps I will take you up on your offer sometime.”

Lucya looked on, wondering if any of them would live long enough for that visit to happen. The immediate crisis had been averted, but it was going to take more than a retired engineer to save them from the virus working its way through the ship. “Thank you, Tom, for your help,” she said. “Now if you would be so kind as to give me your cabin number, I’m putting you on the list of essential personnel.”

Tom drew a sharp breath and gave her a look which suggested he had no intention of working on the ship in the future, but her expression made it clear that he really had no choice in the matter.

“I’m in 907, but I’m retired, I’ll remind you!”

“Nobody is retired in this community, Tom. Mr Gunson, thank you for your help. I have to get back to the bridge. The landing party may be back already, so the sooner we can have the power on the better.”

Gunson nodded at her, and she left the two men in the engine room to finish their discussion.

Lucya didn’t return directly to the bridge; she wanted to find out how Martin was doing. Even before she reached deck eight she knew things were bad. From two decks below she could hear the moaning and howling, the sounds of sick people in great pain. Some were shouting, demanding help, or calling out the names of their loved ones. Some were simply wailing and crying. She could see through open cabin doors that those were the families, the people who weren’t yet sick but who were forced to watch the people they loved suffer, all the time knowing they would probably be next.

People she didn’t recognise were charging about, flitting from cabin to cabin dispensing wet towels and kind words. She assumed these must be the new recruits, the nurses called up to help. They looked exhausted, but they worked without complaint.

Janice was in cabin 845. She was pulling a sheet up over a lifeless body, whose face was obscured from view. For a moment, Lucya’s heart leaped into her mouth.

“Martin?” She whispered the name, and felt the colour drain from her cheeks. Janice looked up at her and shook her head.

“No, not Martin. I don’t know his name. The poor soul was in a cabin alone.”

Lucya let out a sigh of relief, then felt immediately guilty. This man’s death was as much of a tragedy as Martin’s would have been, but she didn’t know him, so it was impossible for her to feel the loss the same way.

“If there’s time, I will take him down and do an autopsy. As far as we know, Kiera and Barry were the first cases after Scott. He died quickly because of his pre-existing condition. Kiera is in a very bad way, but she is hanging on. If this man was infected after her, I’d like to know why he died first.”

“His age? He was weaker, perhaps?”

“That is the most likely, yes. Or it could be that he was infected earlier. As he was alone, nobody reported his condition to the medical staff. The nurses only found him because they were looking for empty cabins into which to put the sick coming up from other decks.”

“And Martin?”

“He’ll be okay. He’s not conscious, but his vital signs are all good. We’ll know more when he wakes up. Do you want to see him?”

Lucya considered the question. “No, I don’t think so. I should get back to the bridge. I wanted to know that he was okay, that’s the main thing.”

A sound from behind her made her turn around. A child, maybe ten years old, stood crying in the doorway.

“Hello, my love,” Janice said, crouching down to his height. “What’s your name then?”

“Robert,” the boy whimpered. He sounded American.

“And what’s the matter, Robert, my darling? Why are you upset?”

“My mom and dad are sick and nobody has come to help them.”

“Okay, honey, can you show me where they are?” The boy nodded, and took the hand she offered. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” Janice said to Lucya.

“Of course. I’ll be on the bridge. If there’s anything we can do, anything you need…”

“Sure thing, thanks, Lucya.”

• • •

Despite the lack of light, Jake was surprised to find he could make good progress through the deep passageway of level four, even without the use of his legs. The grate on the floor, which he realised with some alarm was designed to allow spillages of who-knew-what to be washed away into the channel beneath, was the perfect surface to drag himself along. He reached out his arms, locked his fingers into the holes, and pulled himself forwards. It was slow going, dirty, uncomfortable, and physically exhausting, but he felt that at least he was doing something.

He had considered the fact that by not staying put, he was making himself more difficult to find. But then, he reasoned, there was little chance that the others would ever come back for him, not really. They all knew that Vardy’s idea for a cure was a long shot. Such things normally required years of development, not hours. Even if by some miracle they did make it work, they would have to treat the others who were infected before him. The machine didn’t look like it was capable of producing industrial quantities of anything. By the time they got back to him, he’d be long since dead. He had known all of this when he sent them on their way. He knew he was probably signing his own death sentence.

And so, in an effort to keep his mind from dwelling on his likely demise, to stop himself from thinking about Lucya, he had decided to explore the rest of level four while he still had some mobility. One question continued to burn in his mind. Where had all the people from the base gone? Six thousand, McNair had said. Six thousand people had worked on the base. They had had hours of warning before the asteroid hit, ample time to get as many people as humanly possible into the relative safety of the underground levels. And yet they hadn’t seen evidence of a single soul having been inside. The place was tidy, clean. Level three had looked virtually unused. Although they hadn’t explored levels one and two, they had passed through on their way down the stairs. The lack of light and any sound on those levels, plus the fact that nobody had come running to see what the noise was when they had blown the lift floor, suggested they were just as empty, as did the pressurised halon they had discovered.

That left the hidden level four, a place so different to the others above that it was possible to imagine there were people hiding out down here, as far away from the surface as they could get. Spurred on by this thought, the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might find more survivors in this secret sub-basement, he continued to pull himself through the tunnel.

Every now and then his gloved fingers would touch the concrete of the wall and he would correct his course. He used the torch every fifteen metres or so, to check on his progress, and to try and see where the tunnel led. The battery was draining; the beam was no longer able to cut deep into the darkness. His eyes had fully adjusted though, so the feeble illumination it was still able to offer was enough to keep him on track.

After a good half an hour the light finally picked out something of interest. Set into the wall twenty metres away was a door, identical to the door of the lab. For a second he wondered if he hadn’t gone round in a big loop and ended up where he had started, but a glance behind him confirmed that the tunnel was very straight, and besides, he hadn’t passed the opening to the room with the giant vats of toxic substances.

The sight of the door gave him a definite objective, and a renewed determination. He switched the light off, attached it to his belt, and with his head down he reached forwards, gripped the floor grille, and pulled.

• • •

The bridge was a welcome oasis of calm for Lucya after the mayhem of the engine room and the horrors of deck eight. Back among the ordered rows of consoles and control panels it was almost possible to imagine that things were normal.

Seconds after she arrived there was a cacophony of whirring, beeping, and clicking as the power came back on and the various computers and systems all came back to life.

“Power! Thank you, Tom. So, any sign of the landing party?” She directed the question at Chuck, who had been maintaining the looking in her absence.

“The raft is on its way back. I would estimate ten minutes.”

“But?” Lucya looked at him quizzically. Something in the way he spoke made her think that all was not right.

He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Erica pushing her way in front of him.

“Lucya! You’re back!”

“Hey, sweetie, are you okay?” She bent down and picked the girl up, hugging her tight. She surprised herself with just how happy she was to see the child.

“Dave showed me the maps. I’ve learnt the names of five countries!”

“That’s amazing, well done! Perhaps you’ll be a navigator one day? Telling the captain where to take the ship?”

“Is that what you do?”

“Yes,” Lucya said, smiling. “The captain does everything I tell him.” She caught Dave’s eye and gave him a wink. “Do you mind staying with Dave and Chuck a bit longer? I have to go and meet Jake. He’s bringing us something very important.”

“Will it make Daddy better?”

Lucya felt a pang of guilt, but she knew this wasn’t the right time to explain. “I don’t know about that,” she said softly. She told herself it wasn’t a lie, not really. She wasn’t getting the girl’s hopes up.

Erica looked into her eyes. “Is my daddy dead?” she asked simply.

Lucya was shocked. She hadn’t anticipated the question at all. Suddenly she felt all eyes were on her, not just Erica’s, but Dave’s and Chuck’s too. The atmosphere had changed in a second; only Erica seemed to be breathing.

“Yes,” Lucya whispered finally, her voice hoarse. The girl in her arms became a blur as her eyes ran with tears. “Yes, I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Don’t cry, Lucya.” Erica hugged her tightly. “Daddy wouldn’t want us to be sad. When Mummy died, he said she’d gone to heaven to watch over us, and that she’d be sad if we were sad all the time. Now Daddy’s in heaven with Mummy, isn’t he?”

Lucya sobbed and trembled uncontrollably, unable to speak. She didn’t believe in God or heaven, and events following the asteroid hadn’t done anything to change that. At the same time, she knew that this was a harmless lie, one that Erica could hang on to and draw strength from. “Yes,” she managed to croak. “I’m sure they’re in heaven together, looking down on you.”

Erica didn’t speak. Lucya could feel the girl’s tears run down her face and fall onto her own neck. The two of them stayed like that, bound together for a long time as each of them tried to come to terms with the truth.

It was Erica who pulled herself together first. Sniffing, she extracted herself from Lucya’s embrace, and with her tiny hand she dried first her own tears, then those of Lucya.

“Will you look after me now, Lucya? You and Jake?”

“Of course we will, my darling, of course!”

• • •

Opening the door, Jake realised, wasn’t going to be easy. Propping himself up on one hand, the handle was still out of reach.

He considered the problem. If he could get his shoulders higher, then his hand would reach further. He rolled himself over onto his back, then pushed himself into a sitting position. By continuing to push his hands against the floor he was able to raise his bottom a few centimetres from the ground and shuffle backwards. After a lot of shuffling, he was sitting with his back to the door. Reaching a hand over his head, the handle was almost within reach. The tips of his fingers brushed against it, although through the thick rubber that covered him, he couldn’t feel it.

Shaking his head to try and restore some clarity, he turned his attention to the objects he had with him. There was the torch of course, but it quickly became obvious that was not going to work. One try was enough to see that the rounded bulge of the lamp was incapable of getting any purchase against the handle; it just slipped right off.

His next idea was the sections of wetsuit sleeve that were pulled over his feet to offer additional protection from the ash. As he considered he wasn’t likely to make it outside, much less be walking anywhere, the sleeves were redundant. Leaning forwards he tried in vain to reach them, to pull them off. Jake kept himself reasonably fit; he was certainly no slouch. If he’d tried a day earlier, he would easily have been able to accomplish the manoeuvre. But with the bulk of the wetsuit around his body, and the paralysis in his legs spreading gradually towards his belly, he might as well have been reaching for the moon. His feet were even further out of range that the handle itself.

That left only one possibility: the gas mask. Vardy had suggested putting the masks back on when they had entered the hidden level, when it became clear what sort of work had been carried out down there. There was no specific threat, nothing they had seen suggested the air was anything but perfectly breathable. And yet, removing the mask felt like a giant step to Jake. Sending Ewan and the others on without him had been quite simple. Although doing so meant he would probably die in the tunnels, there was a disconnection between his action and the ultimate reaction. It was easy to be brave when the consequences were delayed. But removing the mask? That was an action that could directly and immediately lead to being poisoned, or gassed, or infected with a biological agent even more deadly than the virus that was already attacking his body. Removing the protection of the air filters could lead to a quicker death.

There was one other option, he told himself. He didn’t have to open the door. What was to be gained? It wasn’t as if he would find a miracle cure inside. And even if there were other survivors, what could they do for him? He risked infecting them if he went in.

“Hello?” he shouted as loud as he could. His voice was muffled by the mask, but the sound still carried well in the confines of the concrete tunnel. “Is there anyone there?” His lungs once again felt fit to burst. The damage caused by the gas and the effect of the virus had greatly reduced their capacity, and every word hurt as he shouted it. He hammered on the door with both fists. He banged his hands against the metal grate floor. The noise reverberated around him. Even when he stopped, it seemed to echo through his head. There was no answer. Nobody opened the door, and nobody came running to see who had entered their base. He was completely alone.

With nothing to lose, he made a snap decision. The mask was whipped off in one movement. Jake took a deep breath through his nose, opened his mouth, and let it out slowly. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” he said to himself quietly. The air was cool and had a strange smell to it, a metallic tang that stuck in the back of his throat. He took more breaths. He could feel his heart banging inside his chest, but the more he breathed, the calmer he became. If there was anything dangerous in the atmosphere, it wasn’t going to kill him immediately.

Grasping the gas mask by one of its two filters, he held it high above his head and looped the straps around the door handle. The rubber gripped the smooth metal, and with the tiniest of clicks the door unlatched. Jake had to throw out a hand to stop himself falling backwards as his weight was no longer supported by it.