Then I try the door handle. It rotates easily—too easily. No resistance. It bypasses the latch altogether, and it’s locked. What sort of door is this that doesn’t allow an exit? Didn’t Luc or Galilei think of that detail? Or has the mechanism been broken by the Adelphoi?
Since no one had been able to get into the room prior to my arrival, whoever locked me in here probably doesn’t know how to do the puzzle and isn’t going to let me out. So no one can.
I’m truly trapped.
I try the handle again, though I already know it’s useless. The only other way out of this room is through the bulletproof glass, which already has gunshot cracks in it. Maybe it’s weakened? But even I know—from movies, at least—that it takes a lot to get through bulletproof glass. Usually a dozen or more gunshots in the exact same spot. From a specific type of gun with specific types of bullets.
Which I don’t have.
I don’t even have my crowbar. I have a lighter and just over a half hour until the Nightmare takes me.
I glance at Galilei, who looks more like a corpse with every passing minute.
“Any ideas?” I mutter wryly.
I survey the room for something strong enough to batter the glass with. My eyes spy flimsy, thin metal poles holding empty IV bags or black-screen monitors. Nothing sturdy that would stand up to more than one strike against the many layers of glass.
I look in the bathroom. The support handle for getting up from the toilet might work if there was a way to get it off the wall. Which there isn’t. And none of the pipes from the sink are accessible—they all lead directly into the wall.
In frustration I return to the main room, searching for anything I’ve missed.
Then I spot red.
A fire extinguisher in the corner behind the door. I pull it out of its slot, and the weight of it boosts my hope. This could work. I heave it over my head but stop before swinging it. I don’t want the thing to explode. It’s pressurized, after all.
I pull the pin, slip the nozzle through the cracked door, and release its contents into the bathroom. It takes several minutes to empty. Every tick of passing seconds grates on my impatient nerves. It sputters, and I pull it back into the hospital room.
That should do it.
I return to the pane of bulletproof glass, lift the metal canister, and slam it into the nearest bullet-hole mark.
The extinguisher practically rebounds right out of my hands. My shoulder is pierced with pain, and a stitch tears.
No change in the glass.
I strike again. A minuscule chip. I hit a third time with all my force, growing lightheaded from the agony in my shoulder. Another tiny chip.
This isn’t going to work. My shoulder and the extinguisher will give out before the glass does. I need something heavier. Sharper.
No, wait. I force myself to slow down and think beyond the panic of my dwindling time and precarious situation.
I don’t need a bigger weapon. I need something that will deliver a more direct impact. A nail or something, though that won’t stand up to a strike from a fire extinguisher. What’s stronger than metal? Stronger than bulletproof glass?
My breath catches. I lift the candle over the LifeSuPod, illuminating Galilei’s face. I open the porthole and reach in until I feel the diamond stud in his right ear. Sweet victory.
I remove the backing and slide the earring off. It’s not like he’ll miss it. I can make him a replacement from nightmist in Tenebra. It takes me several minutes to pry the diamond from the prongs. It has a sharp point on the underside. Perfect.
I stick the point up against the cracked portion of glass, but there’s no way to hold it in place and strike it without smashing my finger. Could I dip it in the candle wax? Would that dry firm enough to hold it in place?
An idea strikes me, and I almost laugh. I pull my wad of gum from my mouth and press it over the diamond. It sticks.
Please let this work. I may have only one shot.
With careful aim, I slam the butt of the fire extinguisher into the wad.
Crack.
The first layer breaks into pieces but stays suspended.
I re-situate the gum diamond, then strike it again. Crack.
And again. Crack.
And again. Shatter.
I make a hole through the layers of glass as fast as I can with the extinguisher. It takes some finagling, but I finally break pieces big enough that I can knock them away like swinging bits of sticky paper. I get an arm through enough to bend it to work at the door handle from the other side. The puzzle is one slide away from the solved status. I move the piece from memory and click, the door unlocks.
I open it, prop it with my foot . . . and am free.
The LifeSuPod moves on its treads smoothly, but it still takes effort and sweat. It has a hover capability, but with the dead battery that’s no use to me. Thankfully, the LifeSuPod seems to have shocks of some sort to keep it from jostling the occupant too much.
I heave it out of the room and then undertake the awkward process of getting it down three flights of concrete emergency stairs. I could be more gentle, but the threat of someone waiting to kill me speeds up my movements.
I’m also short on time. My nerves are on constant alert, particularly when I get out into the parking garage. I fully expect the truck to be gone, but it still sits in the shadows by the bushes. I put the key in and give it a half turn. The gas gauge is where I left it.
I’m relieved but question why the Adelphoi didn’t take their truck back. Wouldn’t whoever ambushed me have at least siphoned the gas?
