It seemed to be much longer returning to the gateway than coming from it had been.
Everyone did their best. Dean was lightning, only yards slower than Jak. Krysty was probably the next fastest, even in her Western boots, with Ryan and J.B. all capable of great speed. Then the problems began. Trader wasn’t bad at keeping up, but his breathing quickly became hoarse and he had to stop twiceonce by the scene of the firing-squad executionsto double over and cough. Abe had so many old injuries to legs and feet that running was always difficult.
And Doc would never have claimed to be God’s gift to the eight-hundred-meter dash.
A siren had started up, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere. Above it, they all heard the warning from the now familiar voice.
“Final warning of purging of air supply to sections four and five in sixty seconds from the tone.” The high, thin sound was barely audible over the siren. “Sixty seconds and counting. Six minutes to terminal vacuum. Personnel to take emergency precautions now, repeat now.”
“Not going to make it, lover,” Krysty panted, feeling a tightness across her chest.
“Will. It’ll take five minutes before all of the air’s sucked out.”
“Doc won’t make it.” She glanced over her shoulder to see the ominous way that the group was stretching out behind her. Doc and Abe were now out of sight.
JAK STOOD by the raised sec door, looking for the others. Dean had joined him, but the rest of the group still hadn’t arrived.
The siren suddenly cut out, and the tomblike passage was flooded with almost total silence. The only sound for several long moments was the distant clattering of running feet, gradually getting closer to them.
“Dad’s in the lead,” Dean announced, fighting for breath. “Then Krysty next.”
The albino didn’t seem at all distressed by the headlong desperate charge through the corridors of the redoubt. “Time’s done,” he said.
The voice chimed in from the speakers, confirming his judgment. “Purging has now commenced in sections four and five, and will be completed in four minutes and forty-five seconds from now. All personnel must follow the prescribed emergency procedures immediately.”
“Here’s Dad.”
There was a faint hissing all around them, as the comp generators began to remove the tainted air from the two sections of the complex. Once that was done, then fresh air would be drawn in from exterior vents and flooded through the passages and rooms.
But that would be too late for anyone trapped inside during the purging procedures.
Ryan arrived, sweat beading his forehead, the rifle, clattering on his shoulders, with Krysty at his side. “Get inside,” he ordered, barely able to speak from the efforts of the run. “I’ll wait for the others.”
Krysty, Jak and Dean obeyed him without a moment’s hesitation, going through the open doorway into the brightly lighted control room.
Mildred and J.B. were next to arrive. The Armorer had handed her the Uzi, carrying the Smith amp; Wesson scattergun in his right hand as he put on a last burst of speed. “Go straight into the chamber,” Ryan said, feeling his breathing ease a little, though he was now becoming conscious that the air quality was diminishing all too quickly.
Trader was in sight, stumbling toward the entrance to the mat-trans section. Ryan didn’t say anything, simply waving him on through after the others.
“Want me to stay and help, Ryan?”
“No. It’s under control.”
The hissing seemed louder.
“Purging of sections four and five is forty percent completed and will terminate three minutes from now.”
Trader vanished behind Ryan, clattering into one of the consoles as he nearly fell.
There was only Abe and Doc still to come. Ryan could hear the sound of feet coming his way, but they sounded like walking feet, not running feet.
The air was definitely much thinner. Ryan could already feel that his heart was working harder, his lungs beginning to struggle for a share of the deteriorating oxygen.
“Come on!” he shouted, aware that there was also something wrong with the acoustics. There was a bizarre kind of flat echo wrapped around his words. “Quick!”
“Coming.” Abe lurched from side to side like someone in an advanced stage of jolt intoxication.