《Area 51》 1.1 Containment Breach ¡®Fuck, I hate this job.¡¯ I think to myself whilst cleaning up some sort of goo that could wither vomit or blood or some mixture of the two. Mopping up the alien vomit, blood, and goo isn¡¯t the worst part of this job, though I do hate that too. No, what I hate the most is being stuck in these claustrophobic, bland halls under hundreds of feet of dirt, steel and cement. ¡®Seriously what was I thinking?¡¯ If you told me a year and a half ago that I would be working in Area 51 I wouldn¡¯t believe you. But eighteen months ago, when the recruiter enticed me with a job at a maximum security, super confidential blacksight, I couldn¡¯t help but be a little curious. Well curiosity killed the cat¡­ but satisfaction brought him back. Aliens, monsters, weapons and gadgets straight out of science fiction, all that and more. I was thoroughly awed. Unfortunately I didn¡¯t become a researcher, a secret agent, or even a guard. No. Instead I am the one cleaning up all the mess, a god damn custodian. Technically a ¡°Senior Sanitation Technician¡±. What a load of bullshit. At least it pays well. *WWWWWWEEEEEEEERRN*The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. *WWWWWWEEEEEEEERRN* *WWWWWWEEEEEEEERRN* I am broken from my internal monologue by the sounds of an alarm accompanied by flashing lights. This can mean one of three things. A drill, a massive on site containment breach, or a fucking alien invasion. I am hoping for the first one. ++This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill.++ ¡°Fuck!¡± I say aloud. ++All on-sight containment is failing, in approximately three minutes all containment will fail.++ ¡®Shit, I am right in the middle of containment!¡¯ ++If you are on or above floors forty please head to the nearest evacuation tunnel, if not, reach the nearest panic room and await rescue.++ I¡¯m on floor sixty, nowhere even close to forty. I should still be able to make it to the panic room. I ditch the mop and bucket and start running through the maze like halls filled with frightened people. It takes me a minute to reach the get close to the entrance of the panic room. I¡¯m not the only one near the entrance to the panic room. There is a large crowd of scientists, soldiers, and other staff heading to the panic room, including my fellow janitors. If this were a drill, everyone would be calm and orderly, everyone would be able to make it into the room in time. But reality, defies trying and expectation. The entrance to the panic room is small, the crowd large, and the amount of time to get into the panic room before shit hits the fan short. As a result everyone is fighting to get in. ¡®I¡¯m not making it in there, am I?¡¯ I have a strong feeling that if I waited my turn, or fought to get in I wouldn¡¯t make it inside the panic room before the door seals. ¡®Where could I hide?¡¯ Thirty seconds pass while I contemplate the best location to hide in. The idea pops into my mind. There is one place that I can access that few others would be able to access, the location is full of equipment, contains food and water, and would be a decent place to hide until rescue comes. The janitorial closet. 1.2 Containment Breach As soon as I am inside my janitors closet I close the door and lock it. I doubt a lock will protect me if something really wants to get in, but it will give me a sense of security and give me a little time if something tries to break in. ++Containment has faiiiilll++ The intercom announces, the last word trailing off. I tense up. Suddenly all of the lights outside turn off, a moment later the backup generator boots up and bathes the outside hall with red light. The only source of illumination in the closet is the small amount of red light the pools in from under the door. A cacophony of sounds assaults my ears. Screams, cries, shouts, roars, hisses, gunshots, all blend together. I just sit as still as possible and be as quiet as possible, and try and take my mind off of what is happening outside. One thing I do when I am under pressure is analyse my situation. ¡®First thing, what do I know about the situation?¡¯ *bang, bang, bang* *ahhhhhh* I know for a fact that once containment is breached at least half of the aliens will die almost instantly. *Raaaaaaaaa* Containment serves two main purposes. The first and most important is to keep the aliens, monsters, and mutants, inside the cells. The second is to keep the inmates in the proper environment.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Most aliens can¡¯t survive in Earth''s atmosphere. Just like humans drown in water, aliens suffocate in air. *Crack* I also know that the guards will have a decent fighting chance, all the aliens should be unarmed. *tatatatatatatatatatatatatata* If the guards kill all the aliens then I am safe, if they don¡¯t, then they will at least thin out the horde. The mutants and monsters are also prone to killing each other. *Grr* *zaaaap* *whimper* ¡®Now, what are my assets?¡¯ I look around my darkened hiding space. The dim red glow cast just enough light that I can see my surroundings. *Bang, Bang, Bang* There are not many notable things in the room. A few generically labeled cleaning products, a broom, a couple ¡°caution wet floor¡± signs. Nothing you wouldn¡¯t find in any other janitorial closet. Well except for the environmental hazard suit tucked away in the corner. If I were an action hero I would be able to synthesize some sort bomb or acid spray out of the cleaning chemicals, unfortunately I am not and the chemicals are completely useless. Similarly the ¡°caution wet floor¡± signs are useless. I will not take the environmental hazard suit, even though it offers protection from radiation, and chemicals, it is heavy and would slow me down. I do take the handheld environmental hazard sensor from the hazard suit, it may come in handy. My eyes then rest upon the broom, perhaps I can use it as a weapon? I unscrew the head and am left with a hollow metal shaft, a little over four and a half feet in length. I doubt it will remain intact in a fight but it¡¯s better than fighting some sort of mutant with my fists. ¡®What is my plan?¡¯ I can¡¯t stay in this closet forever, I will starve to death. That is if something doesn¡¯t kill me first. I should prioritize rendezvous with other survivors, safety in numbers. Then we should get to a defendable location and wait until the cavalry comes. I can forget about escaping, even if I could make it to floor forty-one, floor fourth is probably locked down and impassible. In basic training, before I was picked to become a janitor, they taught us that in the event of a disaster like this one, the military wouldn¡¯t let anything in or out of the base until the crisis is resolved. ¡®Wait a minute.¡¯ I strain my ears to listen for any sound. I hadn¡¯t realized it but the sounds of gunfire, and screams ceased. Outside the door is pure silence. 1.3 Containment Breach It seems like all the fighting has ended. I wonder how long I have been here, in this closet? It seems like hours, waiting here in the dim red light. Perhaps it has been. My mind drifts toward thoughts of what might have happened outside, while I have been inside. I figure there are two possibilities. The first is that outside this door all the humans have been killed, if so then the number of ¡®inmates¡¯ would have been reduced in the battle, and those that survived will be wounded, and tired. If that is the situation, then my best chance to get to safety is if I leave now. The second possibility is that the soldiers have won. The halls should be safe, and it will just be a matter of waiting until rescue comes. ¡®If it comes.¡¯ I try to push the doubt out of my mind, but the idea begins to fester. What is help isn¡¯t coming? What if they just lock us all down here to starve, and then they send someone else to clean-up. I haven¡¯t been involved in an operation like that, but one of my coworkers told me that he was once on the clean-up crew for a starve-out operation. ¡®Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best.¡¯ I steel myself, take a deep breath and unlock the door. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. *thunk* I flinch at the dull noise the lock makes, disturbing the quiet in the otherwise silent halls. I observe the dimly lit halls for any threats. ¡®Nothing¡¯ I don¡¯t let my guard down, there are some aliens that are good at hiding. My closet is near a junction of three different halls. One in front of me, one on the left, and one on the right. The one in front of me will take me deeper into the prison complex, which is a bad idea. That should be where the amount of ¡®inmates¡¯ is the highest. The one on the right will take me in the direction of the armory, panic room, bathrooms, bunks, and the locked escape tunnel. Should there be human survivors, this hall would lead to the highest concentration of them. The third hall on the left leads to the sub generator, surveillance room, medical center, the elevator, and stairs. My instinct tells me to go left. If I can reach the surveillance room I will be able to better understand what is going on, I might also be able to send or receive messages from above. I go left. My head is constantly on a swivel, but I don¡¯t encounter any threats. Atleast none that are alive. There are signs of struggle, bullet holes, scorch marks, and blood, both human and alien mark the white tiled walls. In a way, the markings remind me of graffiti. ¡®Just another mess.¡¯ This is my mantra. These three words are what have kept me sane for the past year, and will keep the weight of what I see from breaking me. Over the past year, I¡¯ve cleaned hundreds of messes, and I''ve become desensitized to the sight of blood, and gore. But this is the largest ¡®mess¡¯ I¡¯ve ever seen. I pass so many corpses that I lose count. Most are human. I feel an urge to clean, to make all this mess disappear and return the tiled walls and floors to their original white state. I ignore my urge and continue my trek down the defaced halls. ¡®Just another mess¡¯ I finally reach the surveillance center. I look around for threats, then I turn back to the simple light grey door. I reach for the knob and turn. ¡®It¡¯s locked.¡¯ 1.4 Containment Breach ¡®It couldn¡¯t have been easy.¡¯ Most doors on the base have a locked or are protected in some way, this one requires a key card and proper clearance. ¡®Damn, I hope I have the right clearance level.¡¯ I take my keys out and hold my clearance card to the card reader. The screen blinks an angry red. >CLEARANCE DENIED< ¡®shit, I¡¯m not getting in here am I.¡¯ If this was any other situation I would have been able to kick the door down. But this is area fifty-one, these doors are so reinforced that not even a swat team on steroids could break it down. Additionally even if this door was not reinforced and it was possible to kick it down, I wouldn¡¯t. The sound would be loud and attract attention that I don¡¯t want. Fortunately there is another option. As a ¡®senior sanitation technician¡¯ I have a few perks. One is that I can send a request to administration to gain access to any room in order to clean it; Regardless of my clearance level. ¡®After all messes can happen anywhere.¡¯ In order to file a request I need to access to a terminal, the closest is near the elevator. I begin walking to the elevator terminal with caution and stealth. The only sound I can hear is the slight rustling of my clothes and the loud beat of my heart. I constantly observe my surroundings for hidden threats.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. There are fewer dead bodies in this area, but the corpses that lie in this hall are all half eaten. Once I reach the terminal I input my card. I boot up the terminal. The black screen with dull grey text greets me. >...< >WELCOME DYLAN< When I first used the terminal one thing that stood out to me is that the system surprisingly antiquated for a high tech military installation. Somebody told me that the reason for this was to make the system more difficult to hack. A prompt appears at the center of the screen >MENU< >ASSIGNMENTS< >MESSAGES< >REQUEST< I input my command. >/REQUEST< >...< Then I clarify. >/REQUEST ACCESS: SURVEILLANCE ROOM FLOOR 60 REASON: CLEANING< I wait a few moments for my request to process through the system. Usually my requests are automatically granted since I am a senior sanitation technician. >ACCESS GRANTED ... CLEARANCE UPDATED< It comes to a slight surprise for me, I half expected the system to fail. Why is the system still running yet containment has failed? I exit the menu and shutdown. >...< >HAVE A NICE DAY DYLAN< >...< Now that I am fi... I think I hear something. *...* ¡®What¡¯s that?¡¯ I strain my ears, trying to catch any disturbance to the silence. *skkkt* *skkkt* A chill goes down my spine, and goosebumps cover my arms. ¡®Fuck, this I¡¯m out.¡¯ I begin quietly running towards my closet. *skkkT* *skkKT *skKKT* ¡°FUCK!¡± I ditch my pole, and look behind me while still running. I¡¯m being followed by something. This ¡®thing¡¯, looks like you took a lion, dipped it in blood red ink, gave it teeth that would make a piranha feel ashamed, then add a couple tumors and a parasitic twin into the mix. The red thing is equal parts terrifying and disgusting in a visceral way¡­ *sKKKT* It¡¯s catching up. I make a beeline to the surveillance room. I hold my card up to the reader. *SKKKT* >ACCESS GRANTED< The door opens with a click, and I slam it shut behind me. ¡®Holy fuck¡¯ *BANG* I collapse on the ground from my exertion, I just outran a fucking mutant lion thing. *BANG* I feel so high on life that I don¡¯t even notice the person behind me. 1.5 Containment Breach I lay on my back for a while, flinching after every bang of the door. Eventually the red thing seems to have left in search of easier prey, or perhaps it is waiting for me to leave the room. Either way I am not leaving the safety of this room for a while. I sit up and look about. ¡°Fuck.¡± Leaning on the wall directly behind me is a corpse with a gun in her mouth. Blood stains the walls. ¡°Just another mess.¡± I repeat my mantra aloud. I suppose it¡¯s a quick and painless way to go, as approved to being eaten alive by aliens. A cursory observation reveals that the blood is fresh too, she must have killed herself within the last hour. I¡¯ve cleaned up enough ¡®messes¡¯ to know how fresh spilt blood is. While I can¡¯t clean up this mess, but I can at least pay some respect to her.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. A check of her clearance card reveals a name, ¡®Marlyn Scott¡¯. I remove the gun from Marlyn¡¯s grip and lay her down, then I close her eyelids. ¡®I feel a little better after this. I also feel a strong resolve. I will not die down in this fucking pit, like Marlyn. I will not be just another mess, that some poor fucking ¡®sanitation technician¡¯ will have to clean up when this is all said and done. No more of this bullshit.¡¯ After a compose myself from emotional outburst I look around, taking in every detail of my surroundings. The room is quite spartan in appearance. There are four surveillance stations with six unilluminated screens each, along with a single terminal in the center of the room. In a corner is a water dispenser, and an instant coffee machine. In another corner is a tall healthy houseplant. Adorning the walls are a few posters, some are posters of what to do in emergency situations, while the majority are landscapes with words of encouragement on them, such as ¡®have a nice day!¡¯ I feel a slight bit of jealousy at my surroundings. ¡®Why couldn¡¯t I have been a security technician, instead of a fucking janitor. Bullshit.¡¯ They told me I was a natural at cleaning. Whatever, I¡¯ve got bigger things to deal with. First I search all the drawers, all of them are almost empty aside from documents. The only thing of note that I find a large pair of scissors which I take apart into two blades, they may be useful later. Then I drink some water because I am really thirsty, I am also starting to get hungry, I will need to go to the break room to pick up some food. Lastly I try and boot up the surveillance system, but I am a sanitation technician not a technology technician. I think that whatever caused containment to fail also caused security to fail. Which doesn¡¯t make sense since they are on two different systems, with lots of redundancy. It isn¡¯t a leap of logic to assume that almost all the other systems compromised too. It¡¯s clear that there must have been some sort of cyber attack. 1.6 Containment Breach It¡¯s clear that there must have been some sort of cyber attack. That¡¯s the only possibility of why all these separate systems have failed. I can only hope that they will be able to reboot the system soon and send in the elites to fix everything. Until then I need to survive, and in order to survive I am going to need better weapons than a pair of scissors. Getting a gun wouldn¡¯t be a problem, there are tons on them all around. The problem is that they are all biometrically locked. If I want a weapon that I can use I am either going to need to be transferred to security or find a weapon that has the biometrics disabled. The first is very unlikely, the second¡­ Well that is also unlikely but at least I have an idea of where to look. Five floors below here is where the prison ends and the storage facility begins, at the very least they will have antique guns, or failed prototypes. There should also be food, and water down there. There should be very few hostiles on that floor as well since they are all kept on the prison floors. Unfortunately I will need to get through five floors filled with hostiles. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡®What¡¯s the plan?¡¯ I think for a moment on the best route to get to the storage floors. ¡­ ¡®The elevator shaft!¡¯ If I can get the elevator doors open I should be able to get down the elevator shaft, I won¡¯t even need to step foot on another prison floor. But there is another knot in my plan, the elevator doors would undoubtedly be locked, clearance or no clearance, and there is no way in hell that I will be able to pry them open, at least not without power tools. Then that leads right back to my original problem, all the power tools on base are similarly biometrically locked maintenance technicians. I need to look at this from another angle. ¡­ ¡­ ¡®If there are¡­¡¯ ¡®No¡­¡¯ ¡®What about¡­¡¯ Finally I come to the conclusion that I am going to need help on my endeavour no matter what. If I can find a maintenance technician who is alive, they should be able to to use power tools to open the elevator door, or override the mechanism. Similarly if I can find a guard then they might be able to blow up the door with a grenade or something. I also toy with the slim possibility that I might be able to get a non-hostile alien to help¡­ ¡®Who am I kidding? I¡¯ll eat my shoes if I ever meet an alien that doesn¡¯t want to kill, maim or enslave me.¡¯ Well no matter what, the first step of reaching salvation is leaving this room. Here goes nothing. I unlock the door and swing it open, I peer down the hall in both direction, ready to slam the door at a moments notice if I spot something amis. The lighting is poor and dim, but my eyes have adjusted to the red light by now and I can make out my surroundings clearly. There is no sign of anyone or anything, at least nothing alive, the corpses are still there. I begin to walk towards the armory and bunk rooms, that¡¯s where my best chance at finding survivors will be. 2.1 Hunting for Survivors I continue my journey down the long desolate halls. Not much has changed since I the last time I walked down here, except for the smell. The smell has gotten much worse, in fact I should put on an environmental hazard suit soon. I check my handheld environmental hazard sensor, the readings are on green, bordering on yellow. Seeing as how ventilation isn¡¯t working, I imagine that it¡¯s only going to get worse. If there are survivors I will need to find them fast and get them a gas mask before the air becomes too toxic to breath. Some aliens release toxic gas or pheromones when they decompose. In fact, I heard a rumor that there is a whole sub-branch devoted to researching and weaponizing substances from decomposing alien, which is definitely against Geneva conventions. Aliens decompose at different speeds compared to humans, some decompose much more rapidly, while other species decompose much, much slower. Although the trend seems to be of the former. Aliens fast decomposition speed is a large reason why we keep specimens alive and don¡¯t just kill the aliens and keep them on ice until they can be dissected, they need to be fresh, and preservation techniques can damage the corpse.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Halfway to my destination I reach my janitors closet. I open the door and lock it behind me in case something tries to sneak up on me while I get put on in my environmental hazard suit. After getting suited up I take a spare full-mask respirator and a few spare half-mask respirators for any survivors I meet, and in case my suit gets damaged. The familiar metallic space-age looking hazard suit offers full protection from toxins, radiation, heat and cold. It¡¯s bulky frame is durable andnotuncomfortable. It also has an environmental hazard sensor built in amongst other bells and whistles. Unfortunately it is also heavy, and I can¡¯t move faster than a walk whilst wearing it. Also the whole outfit shines like one of those foils bows that you put on Christmas presents. It will definitely slow me down and possibly impede me if I have to run or fight, but it¡¯s better than dying from toxic air. Unfortunately I only have one total body suit, but the full-mask respirator should be able to keep some survivors alive until we can make it down the elevator shaft. The respirator in question appears nothing like those used in modern day industry, the advantages of reverse engineered alien technology allows it to have a light weight and much sleeker design without compromising on durability, or protection. I also retrieved some disposable half-mask respirators, appear very similar to the mask that surgeons wear, despite its small size it offers the same amount of respiratory protection as the full-mask, it just doesn¡¯t cover the rest of the face and isn¡¯t as durable. This is the protection measure that I use most often. I pack all my supplies in a trash bag, which is the only bag I have on me. Then I unlock my door, *thunk* And continue my search for survivors. 2.2 Hunting for Survivors As I continue down the halls towards the bunk rooms the lights begin to flicker. ... On, off, on. ... No, wait a moment, that isn¡¯t flickering, it¡¯s too rhythmic and the backup power wouldn¡¯t fail so soon. ¡­ It must be Morse code! ¡­ Ah, shit, I forgot how to translate Morse code. The lights continue to flicker steadily like a strobe light. Off and on. At least I know there is at least one survivor somewhere on this floor. Now I may not know what they are trying to say but the intent seems clear, ¡®If there is anyone out there, help me, I¡¯m here somewhere.¡¯ There is only one place that someone could send a signal via the lights from, This floors sub-generator. Luckily I am not too far away from there. Once again I am rerouted. The sub generator is in the opposite direction as I was going. So I turn back and head in the direction I came from. ¡­ ¡°Ahos grit daa hoshos.¡± ¡°Cadagrit As hoshos grithahafora.¡± Suddenly I hear two, very alien sounding voices and footsteps approaching from a perpendicular hallway ahead of me.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡®Shit. I can¡¯t catch a break¡¯ It was stupid of me to don the hazard suit so soon. I can¡¯t run in this suit, I sure as hell can''t hide, and fightings going to be difficult, additionally I am probably not going to be able to take down two aliens with just a pair of scissors. I need to think. ¡­ There is no way to escape. Fuck it. If I¡¯m going to die, I¡¯m going to die fighting. The two aliens turn the corner and come into sight. One of them is injured and is holding a wound on its upper torso. The wound is oozing syrup-like bright red blood. The other alien has a heavy limp, it¡¯s leg is twisted in a way that looks wrong even on an alien. They both have four arms ending in thick stubby fingers. Each stands at a height of around seven feet tall. Much of their height is from their long sinuous necks which end with an avian looking head with large black eyes and a narrow bone white beak. The intimidation factor is somewhat negated by the bright yellow feathers that they are covered in from head to toe. ¡°Hadaaha!¡± The bleeding bird alien speaks, sounding halfway between a cherp and wheeze. It seems that they can breath in this atmosphere, but not very well. Even though they are weakened I shouldn¡¯t underestimate them. I grab my improvised weapons and charge at the injured one. Training dictates that when you are in a two vs one scenario you should strike first, and aim for the weakest opponent first. Instead of trying to punch me as I anticipated, the bleeding one charges right at me and tackles me to the floor. The two of us grapple on the floor. I can feel that I have an advantage in strength and weight, but It¡¯s four arms reduce all of my leverage. As I am caught in a vice grip, It begins hammering my head like a woodpecker. The rapid blows fail to break the glass of my hazard suit, but do disorientate me. If I was unarmed this would have been the end of me, it¡¯s beak would penetrate the glass eventually, and the second alien would join in. But the bleeding alien made one massive error. In a fight, you never try to grapple with someone who has a knife, or in this case a pair of blades from a scissor. The blades edge may be dull but the points certainly are not. I struggle and flail, eventually I manage to stab it at the base of it¡¯s lower left arm. The wound shocks the alien, it momentary stops pecking and it¡¯s grip briefly loosens. Which gives me the chance to escape it¡¯s hold. I capitalize on this by wildly stabbing it as many times as I can all over it¡¯s torso. I must have hit an artery or something because it starts to spray thick blood all over my suit. The exchange lasted less than a minute, but it feels like forever, I catch my breath for a moment. Suddenly the second alien jumps on top of my back. Now it was my turn to make a mistake, always be aware of your opponents. Now I am really screwed. This is the worst position to be in a fight. I can¡¯t defend, and attacking is difficult. ¡°As¡¯ gritfora grit hosha daa daamitasfora did!¡± The alien begins to rant. Probably something along the lines of, ¡®I¡¯m going to kill you for killing my friend.¡¯. Talking to your enemy is another thing you don¡¯t do when fighting, especially before you are going to kill them. The alien¡¯s ranting gives me a moment to think. ... A sliver of an idea crystallizes in my mind. ¡®Aim for the weak point.¡¯ I manage to twist my body barely just enough that I am able to launch a weak kick into the aliens leg. ¡°Daaa¡± Weak kick or not, my gamble pays off, the attack aggravates a preexisting injury and causes the alien to chirp in what I assume is pain. The aliens grip loosens and giving me the chance to score a lucky hit, right at the base of the neck. The alien rag dolls, I must of severed it¡¯s spinal cord or whatever it¡¯s equivalent is. I turn around and push the corpse off of me. I am bruised, battered, tired and covered in sticky alien blood, but otherwise alright. 2.3 Hunting for Survivors I lie on the blood stained ground for a moment, as the Adrenalin leaves my system. The weight of the events that just happens comes crashing down. How close I have come to dying. I take a deep breath, inhale, exhale. This was the first time in my military career that I have come this close to death. Before I was recruited to work on this top secret base, I was in the army. I was involved in a few conflicts and have seen my fair share of death, but this is different. I¡¯ve always had comrade at my side, and the options to receive back up, or retreat. This is nothing like that, more visceral. I can¡¯t retreat, there is no backup, I have no allies, I¡¯m all alone. The best way to describe how I feel is dread. A mix of terror, and despair. I take a moment to center myself, and clear my mind. ¡­ I still feel the dread, but I don¡¯t let it stop me. Wordlessly I stand up, and grab my discarded trash bag that contains my supplies. Then I continue to the sub generator, I¡¯m getting out of here, one step at a time. ... The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I check the environmental hazard sensor, the indicator is on orange. Outside this suit the air is breathable, but breathing it long term is fatal, I need to find survivors quick. I hurry to the sub generator room. ¡­ Once I reach it I attempt to open the door. ¡­ The door is firmly locked. Next, I attempt to use my keycard. >ACCESS DENIED< It was worth a shot. Lastly I knock. Quietly at first, and then increasing in volume. *knock Knock KNOCK* ¡­ *knock, knock knock knock, knock* A moment later I hear knocks coming from the other side of the door. It takes a moment before it dawns on me, another code, to check if I were a human, as there would be no way to verify from the other side of the door. ¡­ *Knock, Knock* I respond with the end of the pattern. ¡­ *thunk* The door unlocks and opens slowly. on the other side of the door stands a woman, I don¡¯t think I have ever seen her before, but she still looks familiar. She looks slightly panicked, and is holding a heavy looking wrench. Before I can make more observations on her she swings the wrench at me, I barely manage to dodge it. ¡°Woah, relax.¡± I say. ¡­ It takes a moment before realisation dawns on her and she looks embarrassed. ¡°Sorry, I thought, your uh, I thought you were one of them because of your, outfit.¡± She says. I can understand her point of view, I probably look intimidating in my hazard suit, not to mention the sticky blood covering. ¡°No harm, no fowl.¡± I respond. ¡°I¡¯m glad to find another survivor.¡± We begin to take our conversation inside, wary of any dangers in the halls. ¡­ We share an awkward silence for a moment, before I remember the urgency of the situation regarding the air quality. ¡°Those corpses outside are releasing toxic gas, so I¡¯m wearing this suit to protect me, I¡¯ve got a few back up masks, they should offer limited protection for you.¡± I say while opening my trash bag and handing her a full-mask, a small amount of alien blood is transferred to the mask from my hands. ¡­ She takes it, and wipes the syrupy blood off. ¡°The air does smell awful.¡± she says. ... Another awkward lul in the conversation happens. ¡°Thanks,¡± she replies, ¡°uh, I didn¡¯t catch your name.¡± ¡°My names Dylan, nice to meet you.¡± I extend my hand for a shake, before retracting it as it is still covered in nastey, alien blood. ¡°Claire.¡± 2.4 Hunting for Survivors Now that we aren¡¯t in danger, I am able to get a better look at Claire. She has light brown skin, and short blond hair. She is very tall, she looks like she is about three or four inches taller than me, and I am six feet tall. I¡¯m always bad at guessing age, but I would say she is between her mid thirties to late twenties. She is wearing a clean light grey jumpsuit with a black tool belt, as well as the full-mask respirator that I gave her. The jumpsuit denotes her as an ¡®maintenance technician¡¯. She has a plain face, and brown eyes. The most noticeable thing about her face are her eyebrows, which look like they are just growing in after being burned off. ¡­ *cough* She draws my attention. ¡®Shit I must have looked like a total creep, just staring at her for a minute.¡¯ ¡°So, what happened with you?¡± She asks me.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. I think back onto the events that lead up to this moment and begin my story. ¡°After the alarm started ringing I tried to make it into the panic room, but there was a huge crowd, I didn¡¯t think I would make it in time so I hid in my janitors closet until the fighting stopped.¡± She nods. I continue my story. ¡°I tried to see if I could send a signal or find out what was going on from the security room, but the entire system is offline. Then I decided that I needed some sort of weapon to defend myself, my plan was to get to the elevator, go down to storage and see if I could find any weapons or supplies so that I can survive until help comes. But the elevator is sealed tight.¡± ¡°With my tools I should be able to fix that.¡± She interrupts. ¡°Then I saw your signal. On the way here I got into a fight with two aliens, I survived but they aren¡¯t as lucky.¡± I finish. ¡°I see.¡± She replies. ¡°Last night I had to cover for someone, so I stayed up late and didn¡¯t get much sleep. Today, after I finished doing the basic maintenance check I was so tired that I decided to take a nap.¡± I yawn, I feel tired too. ¡°Then I woke up to the sound of the alarms but couldn¡¯t move. You see, I get sleep paralysis. By the time I could move again, well. I realized that staying here is safer than trying to reach the panic room. So I waited, the I decided to try and send a message to see if there were any survivors, and to get them to come here because it is safe. That was about half an hour ago.¡± She ends. ¡°So you said that you can get through the elevator¡¯s door with your tools?¡± I ask. ¡°Yes, it will take a while, and be a little noisy but it should be possible, I¡¯m not a senior maintenance technician for nothing.¡± she boasts. ¡°Are you sure it is safe out there?¡± ¡°No, but if we stay here eventually long term exposure to the toxic air will kill you, mask or no mask.¡± I answer. I check my EHS, ¡°The indicator is on dark orange, which would be the equivalent of being inside a burning building and breathing in the smoke, and skin contact would be like poison ivy, but your jumpsuit should last a while.¡± I relay. ¡°And it¡¯s probably only going to get worse. Anything out there that isn¡¯t dead yet, is either going to be dead soon, or is immune.¡± ¡°Well, I guess we should get out of here asap.¡± She says. She grabs her tool box and wrench, and I grab my trash bag, I ditch my bloody scissors for a crowbar. Then I open the door. 2.5 Hunting for Survivors ¡°Owwwww, I can feel the toxins in the air, it¡¯s like lemon juice on a paper cut. It burns!¡± Claire exclaims while itching her scalp. ¡°Let¡¯s be quick, this can¡¯t be safe for you to be exposed to.¡± I say. The two of us rush to the elevator, but we aren¡¯t very fast. I¡¯m slow because my suit is hard to run in. She is slow because she is carrying her tools and is in pain. ¡®We should have left sooner.¡¯ I think to myself. The environmental hazard sensor still reads dark orange which means that indirect contact isn¡¯t deadly, yet. But the sensor is not infallible. Usually in a situation like this the ventilation system would be able to clear out any toxins and there would be little to no threat, but right now it seems like the ventilation system has also failed. ¡­ By the time we reach the elevator I can see the start of black blisters forming on her neck, ears and all of the rest of her exposed skin. I have experience chemical burns before, several times in fact, and while they don¡¯t hurt as bad as a fire burn, they itch as hell, and can cause serious health issues if you are not decontaminated and sent to the infirmary shortly afterwards. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I am lucky to the toxins with my hazard suit, but she isn¡¯t as lucky. As soon as we get down the elevator we are going to need to head to the nearest decontamination station, and get some medical supplies. ¡°Shit, get the door open, let¡¯s get out of here!¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing!¡± She replies. She takes out something that looks like a bulky screwdriver with a few dials on it, as well as a pair of safety glasses from her toolbox. She looks at the glasses, and mumbles, before putting them back into the box. ¡°Look the other way, and keep watch.¡± She orders, her voice sounds a little hoarse. I comply with her orders, and a bright light reflects off of the wall tiles. The light practically illuminates the entire stretch of the halls. Accompanying the light is the sounds of hissing and crackling. I keep my eyes on the hallway in front of me. About a minute later the sounds and light cease. ¡­ *crack* *snip* *cough* *snip* *wrrrrr* *cough* ¡°How¡¯s it coming?¡± I ask while not taking my eyes off the hallway. Even though the aliens are dying from the fumes, I can¡¯t let my guard down.¡± *Grunt* *cough* She grunts and mumbles something that I take as an affirmative. *cough* She really doesn¡¯t sound good. ... *SCREECH* Another minute passes before the door opens with a horrible loud screech. I spare a glance behind me and see that she has collapsed, her blistered skin is beginning to flake. Her brown eyes are bloodshot, and she is sweating buckets. ¡°Shit, lets go!¡± I ditch my trash bag and crowbar and start trying to carry her down the ladder. It¡¯s very difficult to find a way to carry her and climb down the ladder at the same time. Eventually Claire is able to get a good grip around my neck and we descend down the rungs of the ladder. Three floors down we hit an obstacle. 3.1 Remedy The obstacles in our path is the elevator. It makes the lower floors inaccessible by blocking the entire shaft with its bulk. When containment was breach everything went into lock down, including the elevator. I take a look at Claire, she seems to have stabilized and her condition has improved a little by being taken out of the toxic fumes, but she still will need medical attention soon. I set Claire down on the roof of the elevator and collapse, she may not be heavy, but she isn¡¯t light either, and climbing down forty feet of ladder with her on my back has exhausted the last bit of my stamina. While I recover from my fatigue I turn my attention back to the elevator I am resting on. The top is roughly ten feet by ten feet, and is flush to the sides of the elevator shaft. The elevator itself is made from a lightly colored almost white metal, and the top is covered by a complex array of pulleys, winches, and cables. Then I think of a few solutions to get past this obstacle.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The first solution that comes to my mind is to cut the cables suspending the elevator and drop it out of the way. But I immediately dismiss that idea, even if I manage to cut the cables, the system has several redundant mechanism to stop the elevator from plummeting should the cables be cut. Additionally if I could drop the elevator, it would be difficult not to fall with it. A second idea would be to go through the elevator, but that plan is also dismissed. Unlike commercial elevators, this one doesn¡¯t have an entrance into it from the top. Meaning the only way through the elevator would be to cut a hole through the top of it. Which would be difficult with tools, and impossible without them, and the only person capable of using tools is lying on the floor dying. The third solution, which is ultimately the only possible solution is to go up. She needs medical attention first and foremost, and if I can¡¯t get it from below, then I will need to search on the higher floors, finding the medicine in time will be the hard part, curing her won¡¯t be difficult. I may not be a doctor but this base contains some of the best medical technology on the entire planet, if there isn¡¯t some sort of cure here, then well¡­ ... There is a problem with this plan, bringing her with me. I don¡¯t know if I will be able to carry Claire back up that ladder, I already feel extreme fatigue from carrying her down here, not to mention, the fighting and this heavy suit. Also she would slow me down, and right now she needs medicine quickly. I will have to leave her behind and scout for the medicine, then I will return either with the medicine or to take her to it. I recover for another fifteen minutes, while attending to Claire who is still unconscious. 3.2 Remedy I¡¯ve waited for a short while to catch my breath, and now I have recovered enough energy to climb the ladder again. I am very tired, my body is sore, and my hazard suit is starting to become uncomfortable. But I still have to carry on. Once I get Claire the medical supplies I am going to have to take a long nap, or at least drink some strong coffee. The elevator is on level sixty-three, and the shaft is sealed at floor forty meaning that there is only twenty-three floors that I access, and of those levels only one has a door that is already open. That is floor sixty, the one we just left. All of the other doors are locked shut, and I would need Claire¡¯s help to get through them which she can¡¯t do. Fortunately in our rush we did not close the door to floor sixty, otherwise we would be trapped in the elevator shaft. ¡­ I quickly reach the open elevator door.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Just by the door is my discarded crowbar and spare masks as well as Claire¡¯s tool box. Everything is right where we left it. I arm myself with the steel crowbar, and once again walk down the halls. I stay vigilant and observant of my surroundings, even though I don¡¯t see a single sign of life. I notice that the lights seem dimmer, if only by a fraction, but it could be my mind playing tricks on me. There isn¡¯t a clinic, infirmary or first-aid station on this floor, but what I am looking for is a simple first aid-kit. It definitely won¡¯t be enough to heal Claire but it should prevent her wounds from worsening and hold her over until we can get to one of the aforementioned medical areas. It doesn¡¯t take long for me to find one of the wall mounted bags, with the Red Cross emblazoned across the front. I take the bag up, and wear it by the backpack straps. It¡¯s surprisingly heavy ¡°What the fucks in here? This pack weighs at least fifty pounds!¡¯ it feels like it¡¯s full of ammunition and not medical supplies. I set it on the ground and unzip it, briefly looking inside to make sure that what I am carrying really is medical supplies. ¡­ ¡®Yep, definitely medical supplies.¡¯ Now with my supplies in hand I head back to the elevator. The climb down is arduous, but not more so, my first decent with Claire was more difficult. Fortunately it¡¯s only three floors down, but even then by the time I make it down to the elevator my sore back become much worse. I take another rest before opening up the first-aid pack. 3.3 Remedy I open the first-aid kit and go through it¡¯s contents. The most outstanding thing about this kit is how efficient the use of space is. It¡¯s filled to the brim and practically overflowing with medical supplies. Despite his filled the bag is, it still retains a sense of neatness and order like a closet crammed with folded clothes. I unpack the bag carefully, setting the contents onto the relatively clean surface of the elevator. While going through the bag I find a small manual in a side pocket that I set aside. ¡­ Once I have almost everything laid out, I open the book and flip through the first few pages before landing on the table of contents. I browse threw the table, eventually stopping towards the middle of the table of contents. [CONTAMINATION FIELD GUIDE :165] [CHEMICAL :166] [PATHOGEN :169] [RADIATION :175] Seems like exactly what I need. I turn to page one-hundred and sixty-five. [Before beginning treatment ensure that the environment is safe and free of contamination¡­] [The first step in treating contamination is to identify the nature and exact type of contamination...] On page one-hundred and sixty-five is a small introduction on contamination, and how to diagnose and treat contamination. It also stresses that you should leave a contaminated area before beginning treatment which makes sense. I check my built in EHS on the suits wrist, all clear. ¡­The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. I continue reading the page. Underneath the intro paragraph is a handy info-graphic on diagnosing contamination in the form of a ¡®decision tree¡¯. The chart is a little confusing but I figure it out eventually, now I know that I should treat Claire using the ¡®type C-eight method¡¯ which is detailed on page one-hundred and sixty-seven. I flip to the page in question and start from the top. [1.Ensure that the environment is as uncontaminated and sterile as possible.] I use a few sterilizing wipes and wipe down the area and my hazard suit that still has a some alien blood on it. It¡¯s not as sterile as a hospital but it will have to do. I look to the next step. [2. Wear sterile gloves, and mask. Exercise caution around patient as there still may be harmful chemical residues.] I don¡¯t need to worry about that. [3. Remove and discard any contaminated clothes from the patient.] ¡­ ¡®Uhhhhh, mmmhh¡­¡­¡¯ ¡­ ... ¡®Fuck-it she¡¯s going to die if I don¡¯t treat her.¡¯ I remove her clothing. Any thought of awkwardness are drowned by her disfigured appearance, hopefully they will be able to heal her scars when this is over with. Usually I would try and burn the image of a naked women into my mind, but her skin covered in boils, blisters, and discolored skin is horrific, and leaves me wanting a memory wipe. The only part of her body that isn¡¯t badly damaged his her face by the virtue of the full-mask respirator. ... I move on to step four. [4. Use chemical neutralizing pads (C94) to remove as much chemical residue from patients skin as possible.] I wipe down her skin with the dark oily pads, focusing on the parts of her skin that had direct contact to the air. Parts of her ears are missing. And her neck, god don¡¯t get me started, it¡¯s a wonder that she is still alive. After I have wiped her down with half the pads in the medical kit I move one to step five. [5. Use blood test kit (M9) to run a blood toxicity test (see page 65), If positive inject Dextrorudin (K13) (see page 143), if negative continue to step 6.] I read step five a few times to make sure I understand, then I bend the corner of the page and flip to page one-hundred and forty-three. The page details a small instrument similar to an old fashioned diabetic blood sugar meter thing. Except it doesn¡¯t just test for blood sugar levels, it can detect all sorts of things including chemicals in the bloodstream. ¡­ Eventually I manage to get the machine to work and I prick Claire¡¯s finger with a provided needle. ¡­ The device loads. ¡­ When the results get back it paints a grim picture. While the toxins in her blood are not at immediate lethal levels, it is very close. if something isn¡¯t done to purify her blood supply then she will suffer irreversible and life threatening organ and tissue damage. Fortunately there is a solution. 3.4 Remedy Fortunately there is a solution. I flip to page sixty-five. Atop the page is an introductory paragraph, below it is a diagram, and instructions. [Dextrorudin (K13) is a compound designed to overclock the kidneys and in order to remove large amounts of toxins from a patient''s bloodstream¡­] This will cure Claire¡¯s blood toxin issue, the only problem is... [Side effects include, kidney damage, kidney failure, stroke, death. Do not use if patient is pregnant, elderly, anemic, has pre-existing medical condition, or is missing a kidney. Do not use in conjunction with any other medications.] ¡®Well shit. The side effects aren¡¯t much better than the cure.¡¯ ¡­ ¡®But the alternative definitely worse.¡¯ ... I¡¯m not a doctor but it¡¯s common sense that if I don¡¯t do anything about the chemicals in her bloodstream then she will probably die, but if I do inject this ¡®Dextrorudin¡¯ then her kidneys will start to fail. It¡¯s not a cure it¡¯s just delaying the damage.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡­ I¡¯m caught between a rock and a hard place. I have to inject her. I fold the corner of the page and set the book aside, then I look for the injector. ¡­ I find the ¡®Dextrorudin¡¯ with the other miscellanies injectors, most of the injectors look like slimmed down EpiPen, but the ¡®Dextrorudin¡¯ looks like a classic plastic syringe with a long needle, filled with a fluid that looks almost like fruit punch. I read the label again to make sure it¡¯s the right stuff. I go back to the page and look for instructions on how to administer the shot. ¡­ The instructions are long and complex, but ultimately it boils down to, uncap the syringe, stick the needle into the patients lower back, plunge it slowly, and throw it away when you are done. I uncap the syringe, the needles longer than I thought Even though I am not afraid of needles, looking at this thing makes me a little uncomfortable. I flip Claire onto her back and put a barrier bandage over the spot marked on the diagram. I plunge the syringe a little to remove any air, then I stick the long needle through the barrier bandage and into what I think is the kidney. I inject the semitransparent red substance into Claire. Once I inject every last drop I pull the needle out, and set the device out of the way. Then I flip back to page one-hundred and sixty-seven and continue onto treating chemical contamination. The rest of the instructions are simple and equate to flushing the eyes out with special eye drops to heal any vision loss, and treating the chemical burns themselves. She doesn¡¯t need the eye drops because the mask protected her face. I take out a small tube of burn gel from the med-kit and apply it all over her chemical burns. Claire is still unconscious, and looks like shit, and honestly will probably be scarred for life but she will live¡­ Unless something else kills us, or her kidneys fail before we get help, or we starve¡­ I¡¯m so hungry... I turn my attention back to the task at hand, food and water can wait. I finish wrapping up some of the larger burns with gauze, and then I dress her with a garish yellow hospital gown. Now, I just have to wait for her to wake up. Notice Sorry guys, I ran out of motivation to continue this story, it¡¯s best if I quit now instead of writing a subpar story, I hope you guys can understand. In the future I may continue this, I might not. Ultimately this will not be my last story. Thankyou all for understanding and for reading my story, even though I quit before it even started.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately Unfortunately