The sound of metal scraping against metal was deafening in the enclosed space.

The guard with the flashlight cursed as the cart struck his shins, sending the light clattering across the floor.

I lunged forward, scooping up the fallen flashlight.

The beam was weak and yellow, but it was enough to show us the way.

We broke into a run down the long, sterile hallway.

The air was growing cold rapidly as the building’s climate control system remained dead.

Rain lashed violently against the high windows, the storm outside matching the chaos within.

Behind us, Tessa’s voice echoed down the hall, shrill and desperate.

“Lock down the gates! Don’t let them reach the perimeter!”

We reached the heavy steel doors of the service stairwell.

Rowan pushed past me, slamming his shoulder into the push-bar.

The door groaned and swung open, revealing a concrete shaft that smelled of wet dust and rust.

We hurried down the stairs, our footsteps echoing loudly against the bare walls.

I kept the flashlight pointed down, illuminating each step for Rowan.

He carried Clara with his left arm, his hand securing her head against his shoulder.