T-Plus 3

Oliver stepped past entangled blocks of debris, the same ones he and his team were tasked with clearing before the alien invasion. The most recent breach sent their organized piles into an unsorted mess that littered the corridor. Underneath some of them, his light caught pink splatters peeking out. A bit more searching revealed some aliens off in the distance, not close enough to panic, but close enough to be wary.

Keeping them within view, he traversed around them while angling for the clinic’s entrance. He kept the blowtorch in one hand, pointing toward the nearest alien as he slunk forward. It didn’t seem too harmed even after the fiasco from the debris shuffling. The Nereid moved away, disappearing behind another pile. He kept his head down, doubled-checked that it was clear, and jogged to the next pile. Oliver stood to make sure there wasn’t anything on the other side. It was clearer on this side than where he was. It was a straight shot to the clinic opening.

He sprinted for it, pausing right outside of the entrance. Oliver’s legs protested, burning with fatigue and pain. He grimaced, ignoring them for now as he searched for a way to get in. They never did get to fixing this door before this mess. The rectangular cut out was very obvious even in the dark. Unfortunately, even if he didn’t have to force his way through a door, he’d have to dig through the tangle of debris that had deposited themselves in front of the opening. Ironically, most of what was blocking his way forward were the supplies he and Daniel were going to use to fix this door.

Oliver set the blowtorch and backpack down, grabbing one of the beams sticking out. It was wedged between the slab of metal that would’ve been the new door and some pieces of the wall that was ripped off elsewhere. He pushed down on it, testing his weight against it. The metal slab lifted off a few inches, sliding backwards off the pile. If he could move it further down, he’d be able to climb over the rest of it and squeeze his way in. He put more of his weight down on it, one inch at a time. The slab slid backwards the higher it was lifted until its bottom end hit the ground with a soft thud.

“Okay,” Oliver whispered to himself, letting go of the beam.

He wiped the sweat off his brow, staring at the pile he’d have to crawl over. It seemed as if he was crawling through more places than he should be recently. At this rate, he should’ve just followed Toast into the narrow, cramped vent system. Oliver grimaced at the thought. No, that sounded worse than his current situation. Nevermind, having to fight against aliens and worming through piles of debris was much better than being cramped for long periods of time.

The technician examined the clinic entrance with the light first. He could see the floor of the clinic from where he stood. There were bottles littering the ground among glass shards alongside office supplies that slid off Emerson’s desk. He’d have to be careful once he got over there.

Oliver picked up his backpack and blowtorch again, slinging the pack over his shoulder and tucking the blowtorch into its side pocket. He wedged his foot into the remaining debris, reaching his free hand up to test where else he could leverage his weight. Some of the lighter objects fell loose, so he tried a few other handholds. He heaved himself upwards, wedging his other foot into another foothold as he climbed over. He lowered himself one foot at a time onto the other side, careful of where he was stepping once he reached the ground. Beneath his feet, he could hear the crinkling of broken glass as he turned to view the rest of the clinic.

He finally saw how messy the clinic was on the inside. More of the equipment had been shoved against the wall beside him, out of view from the outside. The two beds, both of which he’d spent several nights on, had spun out of alignment and were against the far wall. Emerson’s desk and the computer that came with it were nailed to the ground, although the monitor had been knocked off and had skittered to join the beds across the room. All her desk supplies were littered across the floor: her colorful pens, notebooks, and clipboards. Beside them were the medicine bottles that weren’t under lock and key.

The only thing that remained from calmer days was the only closed cabinet in the clinic. The lock was still intact, and without the key there was no way he could open it. Knowing Emerson, the key was with her, which meant it was nowhere around here. He flashed his light at the bottles he kicked with his foot. Most of them were some type of painkiller, still unopened. Some of the bottles had holes in them. He ignored those, and tossed the intact ones into his backpack. Now, he turned to the cabinet full of perfectly fine chemicals and supplies.

Oliver approached the cabinet, reading some of the labels through the acrylic glass. He didn’t know what most of these did, but the clinic wouldn’t have anything useless in it. And best of all, there was an entire package of gauze on one of the shelves, free for him to take. Well, once he figured out how to open the cabinet.

He angled the light at the hinges. Maybe he could rip the doors off. No, the hinges looked sturdy. He rapped the glass with his knuckle. It sounded thin, so maybe some force could snap it. He rammed the butt of the flashlight against the acrylic. His flashlight bounced off the surface. The cabinet shook from the force, but, other than the large scratch left behind from the flashlight, it was still intact. Oliver tried again, this time putting more force into his swing. Once again, his flashlight bounced off, shaking the cabinet even more. Gritting his teeth, he took a step back and smashed it a third time, finally feeling the resistance shatter beneath the flashlight.

The shards fell around his feet, some of them still hanging onto the cabinet’s frame. Reaching in, Oliver undid the lock from the inside, and opened the doors in the normal fashion. He’d have to do the same thing with the locked cabinet beside this one, but one thing at a time.

Oliver grabbed everything off the shelves and stuffed them all into his backpack. The pills rattled in their bottles as he dumped them all in, sometimes even stuffing some of the ones he recognized in the front pockets for easy access. He kept the box of gauzes out, although he tossed the extra ones into the backpack first. Once he pillaged one cabinet, he moved onto the next. Using the same method, he unlocked the other cabinet and placed everything into his bag. By the time he was done, his backpack was stuffed full and the weight pulled at his shoulders. Nothing he couldn’t handle, but it was noticeably heavier.

Now, he had one last thing he had to do before he could move from this spot. Oliver plopped himself onto one of the beds, unraveling one of the rolls of gauze. Keeping the light nearby, he swung his legs up where he could see the makeshift bandages Toast gave him before unraveling from his rough journey through the hangar and the lab.

A combination of sweat and blood had soaked through the fabric, unraveling the binding and revealing his bare legs beneath. His legs still looked as disgusting as they had in the beginning, if not worse. If they had healed any bit between then and now, he couldn’t tell through the splinters in his leg. The small pieces of wood littered his wounds. Limping over towards the small sink, he turned the knob and, luckily, water rushed out from the faucet, although it was a smaller trickle than previously.

He cleaned the wounds up as much as possible, substituting water with hydrogen peroxide to make sure it was safe to wrap up his legs again. Oliver gritted his teeth through the entire process, biting into one of his backpack straps to keep from screaming and shaking too much. He focused on the dusty, leathery taste of his backpack strap, reminding himself he never wanted to have to taste this again. He tied one legs’ bandage, tucking his leg back into its boot before doing the same with the other. He was sweating again, his forehead and neck slick with it.

Oliver fished out one of the bottles of painkillers, and popped it open. He took two, tossing the rest back into its pocket and stood up. It was time to go again. He pointed his light outside, surveying the corridor. The aliens were still where they were, just outside the visible range of his flashlight. He could just discern them by the faint movements of their bodies flickering into the light’s view and scuffle sounds they made as they moved over debris. He climbed over the pile blocking the door again, and moved toward the other end of the corridor.

Keeping his flashlight trained ahead, with the occasional glances toward the sides to make sure the coast was clear, Oliver headed toward the only other area he was familiar with: the Engineering Bay. He ducked behind another pile of debris, this one mostly of the extra supplies they had been keeping to fix some of the walls further down the corridor. The Engineering Bay looked as it had the last time he was here. Granted, the blood splatters from that day were either covered by more debris or they had dried too dark for him to see in this dim lighting. The dead body parts had also disappeared. Probably in some alien’s stomach, now that he thought about it.

He pointed the flashlight around, making sure there weren’t any aliens in the vicinity. Oliver couldn’t see any, something that didn’t sit well with him. Logically, if their arrival on the third floor was any clue, there should be a lot more aliens patrolling than the small amount he’d seen from a distance. Sure, the most recent quakes splattered a majority of them, but he wasn’t going to take this for granted.

One step at a time, he came out from behind his hiding spot. His flashlight still revealed nothing. He approached the Bay’s entrance, sliding alongside the wall with his back against it. Right before the entrance, he paused, checking both ends of the corridor again. There was nothing to the left or right. If there was going to be anything, it’d be within the Engineering Bay.

Oliver peeked into the dark hallway, angling his flashlight to catch the further corners. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He frowned, taking a step inside. Still nothing. He poked his light into the familiar rooms as he took another step forward. The rooms that had been left in somewhat organized manner were now in complete disarray. Desks and chairs were thrown everywhere, and the remaining equipment were scattered across the floor and some had tumbled out into the hallway. He stepped into the opening of every entrance, poking his light in to see nothing but messy rooms.

The technician paused in front of the command room, scanning the room with the flashlight. Of course, there was no one in here. Of course, the Chief wasn’t on his usual podium, shouting for him to go grab something from some unfortunate location. Of course, everything in here, like everywhere else, was a mess of chairs and computers tossed around the room. Stacked up in disarray against the closest wall were the desks that had slid and piled up during the recent tremors.

A few laps around the room revealed nothing. Other than documents left behind by his fellow technicians before everything, there was nothing in here. He passed by the podium and sighed. Oliver stepped back out into the hallway, heading further in. As his boots thudded against the ground, he approached the last few rooms: the two locker rooms and the Bay’s hangar. One of the locker rooms had lockers jammed into the door, blocking the entrance, but the other he could still squeeze into.

There was a light. Oliver tensed, taking a step back. Wait, a light? The aliens didn’t need light. He stepped closer again, keeping his shadow out of the way as he peered in. There were soft whispers coming from within the locker room, two distinct voices arguing about something. One voice was softer than the other, a serious tone barbing the end of sentences. The other voice was deeper, taking a more optimistic tone as its owner spoke. He recognized those voices. How the hell did they manage to climb up here through the aliens? Oliver stepped into the light, entering the locker room through the narrow space. Sitting on two of the benches with a flashlight between them were Daniel and Emerson.