Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
We moved down the sterile corridor, Vance leading with her weapon drawn. We heard the muffled sounds of crying coming from a reinforced door at the end of the hall.
Vance shot the electronic keypad, kicking the door open.
Inside, huddled in the corner of a holding pen, were six children. They were pale, malnourished, and terrified.
"It's okay, we're here to help!" I rushed forward, unzipping my medical bag to check their vitals.
Before we could get them out, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind us.
"How touching," a cold voice echoed through the room.
Marcus stood in the observation booth above us, looking through bulletproof glass, a microphone in his hand. Standing next to him was Dr. Aris.
"You always were too empathetic, Nolan," Aris sneered through the intercom. "It makes you a brilliant doctor, but a terrible survivor. The gas will fill the room in three minutes. A painless, sleepy death."
Hissing vents in the ceiling hissed to life. A thick, white vapor began to pour into the room.
The children started to cough.
"Vance!" I yelled, pulling surgical masks from my bag and strapping them onto the kids' faces.
Vance didn't panic. She looked at the reinforced glass, then at the heavy oxygen tanks strapped to the wall.
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"Doc, get them down!" Vance shouted.
She grabbed a heavy wrench from a surgical tray and smashed the valve off a large, pressurized oxygen tank. She kicked the tank toward the bulletproof glass and fired a single shot into the volatile metal cylinder.
