Page 9 of Glass Rose
A technician I vaguely recognize—from Biochem, maybe?—sprints into view, lab coat torn and bloody. He glances back over his shoulder, terror etched into every line of his face. Behind him, shuffling but gaining, come three infected. Former colleagues, their clothes stained with blood, movements jerky.
“Help me!” the technician cries, spotting our open door. “Please!”
“Shut the door.” Alex fights my hold on it. “Shut it now.”
If I save him, I risk exposing us. If I don’t…
The technician reaches for our door just as the Infected catch up, drag him down, and tear into him. Blood splatters the wall opposite our hiding place, and the man’s screams turn to gurgles, then silence.
Alex slowly closes the door, his face slick with sweat. “We would have died too.”
Another death on my conscience. Another life I failed to save.
Another scream slices through the air, and the sound of chewing meat outside our door stops. Shuffling. Footsteps fading beneath the wail of the alarm.
Alex’s breath tickles my ear. “Wait.”
We hold perfectly still, counting heartbeats. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
I ease the door open, wincing at the slight creak of hinges. The corridor gleams with fresh blood. What remains of the technician lies in a crumpled heap—less a person now than raw materials.
“Clear?” Alex whispers.
“For now.”
We slip out, sidestepping the corpse. I keep my eyes forward, but the metallic scent of blood coats my tongue, makes my stomach heave.
“Which way?” Alex scans the junction, his body coiled tight.
I point right. “Through there.”
The auxiliary lab doors stand open, glass shattered across the floor. Inside, equipment lies overturned, chairs tossed like toys. Blood smears the workstations. I’m about to hit the light switch when Alex catches my wrist.
“Don’t.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Light attracts them.”
“How do you know that?”
“Educated guess.”
The maintenance shaft access lies just beyond the next door.
“Stay close to me.” I pick my way between lab benches. “Don’t touch anything.”
It’s eerily quiet, rows of refrigeration units humming softly, preserving biological samples and various solutions. Some glow faintly in the dim light, casting alien shadows across the floor.
My coffee mug from earlier today sits beside my computer, the liquid filmed over. Was it only today that I was sitting here, finalizing my plans to expose the facility? It feels like years ago. A different lifetime. A different person.
My legs suddenly refuse to cooperate, and I stumble against the sample refrigerator. Glass tubes clink together as it rocks from my weight.
Just a minute. One minute to catch my breath.
“Alex, I—” I whip my head around, peering through the gloom. “Alex?”
He’s gone.
“Alex!” I hiss, louder this time, fear clawing up my throat.
Nothing.
