He roared in pain and struck down with his bat.
I tilted my shoulders and stepped to the side.
The bat missed, and the tip banged on the metal grating as he doubled over in agony with his head hanging down.
I grabbed hold of his hair and yanked his face up, arched my back, and brought my elbow down in a cutting blow to the side of his head directly against his temple.
He fell like dead weight to the floor.
I tilted my head and picked up the bat, and nudged him with it. My opponent didn’t move. He was definitely unconscious, hopefully without brain damage from my attack.
I dropped the bat next to his prone body.
Then I simply strolled to the knife.
It was time to hold my breath.
I sucked in a large lungful of air, keeping it trapped inside my lungs.
I bent down and picked up the knife.
An instant hiss escaped from the floor.
I turned quickly and positioned myself square with the bullseye. The exit was closest to this side of the room, so staying over here was ideal with the next booby trap coming.
I took aim and hurled the knife hard.
It hit dead center, embedding deep into the material.
Another hiss ejected from the floor.
I only saw a moment of yellow gas slithering up through the grates before I shut my eyes. My arms instantly shot out wide while I walked backward until my back hit the glass. I rolled on the wall to my left, not breathing and not seeing. Then I used my hands to crawl along the glass wall to guide me until I hit the exit.
My lungs started to burn, so I quickly pulled out the comb from my pocket. I felt along the comb until I found the smallest tooth. It snapped as I broke it off with a quick and efficient jerk of my wrists.
I dropped the rest of the useless comb on the ground and quickly ran my fingers along the lock. The numbers you didn’t exactly type in, even though they were visually in the right place. You had to use the tip of a pen—or the teeth from a comb—for it to register your code. I kept my left hand on the device, using it as my eyes, and my right hand to punch in the numbers 1919.
Nothing happened.
I shook my head and tried again.
The vents above didn’t turn on to suck the gasses out.
The door didn’t open.
Exit… Exit… Exit…
An exit was the opposite of an entrance.
I started making the oddest noises, high and whining, as I fought not to breathe. It would happen, but I wouldn’t go down without fighting my lungs for control.
I punched in the numbers the opposite way.
9191
The latch clicked. The vents whirled in power.
I jerked the door open and stumbled out. I didn’t breathe or open my eyes until I pulled the door shut. My deprived lungs exploded as I heaved in gulp after gulp of fresh air. I placed my hands on my knees and panted.
