Chapter 17 - The Room That Needed Air
The blackout was no accident.
By the time we reached the maintenance door, the emergency alarms were screaming. The convoy's drivers had abandoned their trucks and were arguing with the officers at the gate.
Grace showed the authorization. "Medical emergency. Open it."
No one moved.
Wren took us down the drainage passage we'd used to escape. The tracking port behind her ear began blinking red beneath the skin.
"Rusk knows I'm back," she said.
"Then let's give her something else to worry about," Iris answered.
Inside, the tank room had gone gray. Backup lights threw long shadows across the glass. Noelle was awake, pressing both palms to the pane.
Ada stood beside a failing control panel, speaking into a radio. "External medical teams, we need oxygen and monitored transfer beds. Now."
My father was on the floor tightening a valve with a wrench. He looked up when he saw us.
"You brought them," he said, astonished.
"I said I would."
Grace's officers secured the corridor while the physicians connected portable equipment. They couldn't simply open twenty-five chambers at once; each woman needed careful assessment and a separate plan for breathing support.
"Start with the alert patients," Ada instructed. "Keep the others stable on backup air."
Wren led a technician toward the generator room. I followed because her hands had started trembling.
At the end of the corridor, a steel door was sealed from the other side.
Rusk's voice came through the speaker. "Wren, you know why I kept you. Your tag can unlock the system. Come alone and everyone survives."
Wren stared at the speaker. "That's the lie you raised me on."
The generator below us sputtered once.
Then Ada's voice rang over the radio.
"Clara! Backup pressure is dropping. If we lose that generator, we lose the chamber air."
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Wren took my hand and pointed to a narrow service ladder.
"There's one way to reach the manual relay," she said. "And only one person fits."
