Chapter 7 - AIR IN THE VAULT
The only light in the archive room came from the small desk lamp illuminating the open folders on the metal table.
Ethan threw his shoulder against the steel door again, but it didn't budge. The deadbolt was heavy commercial grade, controlled from an electronic keypad outside in the hallway.
"Is there another exit?" I asked, my voice rising slightly with panic as I looked around the cramped, windowless room.
"I checked while we walked in," Ethan said, his face grim as he turned back to me. "This is the only way in or out. And Richard Sterling just locked us in."
I looked up at the ceiling. High up on the wall, near the corrugated metal ductwork, a small rectangular vent grill sat covered in thick dust.
"Ethan, the ventilation shaft. If we can knock out the grill..."
Before I could finish the sentence, a low, hissing sound echoed from the ceiling vents.
A moment later, a faint chemical odor drifted down into the room.
"What is that?" I coughed, covering my nose with my sleeve.
Ethan sniffed the air, and the color instantly drained from his face.
"It’s not fresh air," he said, his voice laced with pure terror. "It’s halon gas or a carbon-dioxide purge system. They’re smoking us out."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Seven months pregnant, trapped in a basement vault while someone pumped odorless gas into the room to force us into unconsciousness.
"They want us to pass out so they can wipe the archive files clean and make it look like an accidental leak," I realized, grabbing Ethan’s arm. "Ethan, we have to get that door open."
"Get back behind the table," Ethan ordered, his voice taking on the commanding tone of a man protecting his family.
He grabbed a heavy iron fire extinguisher mounted beside the metal shelving unit. Pulling the safety pin with his teeth, he aimed the heavy metal base directly at the electronic keypad housing embedded in the steel door frame.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The iron cylinder slammed into the metal housing, sending sparks flying across the concrete floor.
The first strike dented the metal cover.
The second strike shattered the plastic circuit board inside.
On the third strike, the electronic lock let out a high-pitched electronic shriek, and the heavy deadbolt mechanism mechanically snapped back inside the door.
Ethan threw his body against the steel door.
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With a loud pop, the door flew open, revealing the empty, dim-lit hallway outside.
We stumbled out into the corridor, gasping for fresh air as the chemical haze began to billow out behind us into the basement.
