Noah's Ark: Contagion by Harry Dayle

Author:Harry Dayle [Dayle, Harry]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Publisher: Shelfless
Published: 2014-02-16T06:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

AS THE SCREWS came out of the door hinges, the door itself appeared to try and push outwards, towards the little landing party. It was as if it was straining to burst open. Instinctively, Jake took a couple of steps back. The last hinge gave way without warning, flying off the frame with a pinging sound. The door was flung open from the hinged side. The bolts—still shut on the other side—twisted and buckled, filling the passageway with the sound of metal being wrought out of shape. At the same instant, a cloud of white gas erupted out of the doorway, swirling and eddying around the men.

“Masks!” Eric shouted, pulling his own gas mask over his head.

The three navy men dropped to the floor automatically. Jake followed their lead, all the while scrambling to get his own mask back on. His haste caused the straps to become twisted and tangled, and the urge to breathe was overwhelming. He could hold out no more, and gulped in a lungful of the seething cloud. The gas reached his lungs in a second, and for the briefest of moments he thought he was about to drown. Then the burning started. It was like someone had lit a fire inside his chest. Every filament of his lungs felt as though it was individually exploding, and searing pain flushed through him. He lost his balance and fell back against the wall, his head thumping against the concrete.

“Mask! Get his mask on!” he heard someone shout. He was being pulled in a thousand directions at once, a hundred hands were scrabbling to get the gas mask over his face. All he wanted to do was breathe in cold air, to put out the fire in his chest, but the fear of making the pain worse paralysed him.

“Jake! Breathe! Take a deep breath! Come on, Jake, breathe!”

His head was swimming. Logical thought abandoned him, and with it the fear that prevented him from acting. His body took over, and he began to draw tiny breaths. The filtered air tasted of charcoal and plastic, but it didn’t burn. Oxygen reached his brain, and his mind started to clear. The pain had eased and was replaced with an intense irritation. He wanted to scratch at his insides, to rub away the itch, but it was impossible. All he could do was cough and splutter, but the mask made even that simple action difficult.

A pair of hands grabbed him under his arms and dragged him around the corner, away from the door. His mask was pulled off and he immediately gulped down the cleaner air, coughing and heaving between breaths.

Slowly, he regained control of his body. His lungs felt ready to burst, like he had just run a marathon, but he was breathing normally. He tried to focus on the men sitting around him, although his head was still swimming.

“Wha…” He tried to speak, but only a croak came out. “Wha…” He puffed and wheezed, replacing more of the gas in his lugs with humid, stale air.

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