Author’s note: Wahoo! I wrote something! I hope it doesn’t suck too bad!
60: Of Fire & Tunnels
I felt for a pulse on her carotid artery. Nothing. My stomach flopped over and my jaw tightened up. A couple of tears ran down my nose and dripped onto her shirt.
Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. Don’t lose it. She’s just in a bad position for this. Do this right, Corbin. You’re a nurse.
I slid her body to the side and rested her head on the ground. I crouched low, put my ear about an inch from her mouth, and looked down toward her feet.
I felt the tiniest trickle of air and watched her chest rise and fall a good half inch or so.
I tried again on her neck.
This time I felt a pulse.
The muscles in my jaw relaxed. Weak but steady. Good enough. Time to get moving.
I turned around and scanned through the haze. I couldn’t see any aliens other than the dead one a few feet away. The shouting seemed to be decreasing, too.
Now, how to get her out of here?
Carrying her on my shoulders would be dangerous for her. The smoke was getting thicker and the room was getting warm. Still, there was no way I could drag her far enough to get out of harm’s way.
Fireman’s carry it is then.
The only choice left was which exit to head for. If I went back the way we came in, I’d only be putting off our moment to die. There was no way I could retrace my way through that mess. Plus, there might still be some guards waiting down that hall.
The other exit wasn’t really any more promising. I had to cross a smoke filled room while carrying another human being. Then, if I did reach the hallway, I’d be just as lost. To top it off, who knew what alien surprises I’d find down there?
Still, somehow that other exit just felt like the better choice. I had to go with my gut.
I straddled London then squatted down and hooked my hands under her armpits.
Carrying an unconscious person on your shoulders is not easy. Actually getting said unconscious person up there is downright difficult.
I waddled back and deadlifted and leaned back and lifted some more and eventually I got her body up in an awkward sloppy bear hug.
My lungs complained for more air. Sure hope this works.
I ducked my head and looped her right arm around so that her armpit rested on the back of my neck. Now the really hard part.
Pulling on her right wrist with my left hand, I squatted down again.
Her body slumped down against my shoulders.
I reached my arm between her legs and hooked the back of her right knee with my right elbow. I passed her wrist from my left to my right hand and stood up.
My legs quivered with the exertion. Every gasping breath came with a wisp of smoke that had to be coughed out.
A deafening explosion pummeled my eardrums and shook my brain.
I stumbled to my left, but somehow kept on my feet.
Great. Some of the crates must be explosive.
I didn’t bother trying to run or keep to the shadows or anything like that. My stamina wasn’t going to hold out long enough for anything other than a straight march.
The ever increasing heat and smoke from the fires made each step more unpleasant than the last. The sensation of being completely vulnerable and in the open wrecked havoc on my nerves.
For my part, I simply kept moving and struggled to push the pain, fear, and discomfort out of my mind. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
It may have been only one or two or five minutes, but it felt like an hour before I nearly tripped on the remains of one of the drones.
Almost there.
Another three steps and I was standing over a human body. A nearby fire, possibly caused by one of my own stray shots, flickered just enough to get a look at him.
The drones had shot him up pretty well. There were at least three clotted messes that marked where alien bullets had passed through his chest. His right arm looked like a crocodile had chewed on it. Part of his neck was missing. Dark, dried blood stained the entire scene.
The dancing light also caught a holster on his right hip.
I held my breath and shuffled around the body to get a better look.
The holster still contained a pistol.
My heart jumped a little. My head ran a quick debate on the ethics of robbing a dead man versus the need to survive. What would a gun even help me do that at this point? Still, my gut was screaming at me to grab it. My legs argued it was too much work. My brain was too tired to form an opinion.
Before I could reason it out, I felt my legs bending. I crouched and let my left knee slam onto the floor. The cement stung like a framing hammer. And getting down is the easy part.
I couldn’t lean too far over, or London’s weight was going to shift and send both of us sprawling to the floor.
This is a stupid idea.
Afraid to look down, I groped around with my left hand until I unsnapped the retention strap and wiggled the pistol free.
There was no way I could drop the magazine and see how many rounds remained with only one hand, so I simply jammed the gun as far into my pocket as I could.
Now for the hard part.
I sucked in as much a breath through my nostrils as I could manage and pushed against the ground. Every muscle in my whole body tightened together in an effort to get me standing again. Pain shot from my knee up the back of my spine. A scream blasted through my cracked lips. Multicolored spots flashed around the edge of my vision. Another moment of strain and I was going to collapse.
And then somehow I was back on my feet.
My body involuntarily lurched and limped toward the exit.
I turned and took a final look back at the fires and smoke. No aliens in sight. Where did they all go?
There was no brain power left to come up with an answer. There was only the stoic resolve to keep moving until escape or death.
The sporadic and dancing light that had lit my way to the exit gave way to complete darkness.
Every few feet I stuck out my right foot to make sure the wall was still there. I didn’t want to miss a turn that could lead outside.
The smoke thinned out and pretty soon I was breathing mostly real air. It was a small consolation considering how exhausting walking had become. Every step sent another jolt of pain up my legs and down my arms. London’s weight pressed down on my aching shoulders and screaming back.
I pushed on even though I knew deep down it was useless. Another hundred feet, maybe two, and that would be it. I’d collapse into a heap with London and die. What’s the use in even dragging this out?
I don’t think that I even made it that hundred feet.
It made me even sicker to my stomach to know I’d reached the end of my physical limits. This is it. I unhooked my arm from the back of London’s knee.
Her legs slipped off my shoulders, pulling me backward.
I jerked forward and clung to her arm so that she didn’t slam her head onto the ground.
That was the point when my legs gave up. I did my best to control the speed of the fall, but I doubt it helped much. At least gravity pulled us forward, so that London could fall onto my back before rolling to the floor.
I can’t begin to describe the pain. I felt like I’d been smashed in a garbage press, run through a meat grinder, and then thrown into the street to get run over by passing cars.
A single thought repeated in my mind. How long do I have to lie here in pain before I get to die?
As it turns out, not very long. Within five minutes, a light appeared in the distance.
There really is a light. When does the pain stop?
The light got brighter and closer and began to be accompanied by a sound.
I closed my eyes and wondered why the noise death made sounded so much like frenzied alien shouting.
