Inhaling a deep breath, she pressed the panel beside the doors. It slid open, and she hurried into the second part of the decontamination zone. Once the doors behind her sealed tight, the next ones opened.
Relentless rain, buckets full, splattered against the outer door like it tried to break it down. Lightning attacked her fields, but she could see the faint blue-green glow that meant the shielding was operational. Another crack of thunder drowned out the sound of her deep inhale. Wynn entered her ID to open the outer door.
Wind suctioned inside the small space, almost knocking her over. Rain slapped her legs and pounded through the grated floor. She hadn’t even taken a step outside and water coated her visor.
Wynn gripped the door frame and pushed herself onto the landing. Her boots slipped, and she grabbed the railing to keep from falling. Each of her downward steps felt like she walked on something breakable, something uncertain. The outpost’s exterior lights illuminated a path around the building about two meters wide.
One step forward took the energy of four. Her boots sank into centimeters of mud. Water pooled around her ankles. A river ran beneaththe outpost, taking islands of dirt along with it. Another boom of thunder shook her entire body.
Gritting her teeth, she trudged forward.Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.How could she help him when she couldn’t even walk properly?
Wynn plunged ahead, concentrating on the next step, the next stumble. Finally, she cleared the edge of the building and paused. She swiped the rain from her visor and scanned the horizon.
He was gone.
Her breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t have just disappeared.
Maybe he’d passed on the other side of the building to aim for the next outpost a hundred kilometers away.
An unhinged laugh burst from her lips at the thought.No way.
The laugh turned into a scream when a tall figure lurched toward her from beside the building. She jumped away, and almost fell ass-first into the mud as thunder roared. Lightning streaked across the sky, brightening the terrain. His hand pressed against the exterior of the outpost, his body listing awkwardly. His glasses, a thick band, completely blocked his eyes.
The urge to run, to flee this bizarre scenario, abated when she took in his abused state. Any exposed skin, especially on his cheeks and forehead, was red and raw. The pain must be excruciating. She reached for him, tucking herself under his armpit to take his weight.
“Lean on me,” she said, though it would be hard to hear her through her helmet. “Come inside.” Her voice shook, then broke, her mind trying to understand why he would put himself through this.
A suicide attempt? Her heart squeezed painfully. Why here? Why now?
He stumbled again, and the force almost brought her to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she aimed toward the door.
Thunder cracked. Wynn jumped, then focused ahead. Impossibly, the storm increased in strength. She focused on the next step, on keeping theman leaning on her from falling into the mud. Each breath strained her lungs from the effort.
It seemed a full day passed before they reached the bottom of the steps. He grabbed onto the railing, relieving some of the strain of his weight. But he stopped instead of climbing upward.
“We need to get inside.” The faster they could go through the decontamination process, the quicker she could make him comfortable.
Because…
There was no happy ending, no miracle solution, for what was about to happen to him, and she didn’t have the equipment to put him in stasis.
Straightening, she pushed those thoughts aside, instead focusing on what shecoulddo.
“We need to get you inside,” she repeated, louder this time. “I have medicine and painkillers.”
He turned his head, like he could hear her through the pounding rain and rumbling thunder. His skin was worse now, blistered, and she swallowed against the hard, dry lump in her throat. The rest of his body would be the same.
She placed her boot on the drenched step, almost slipped, then nudged him upward beneath his armpit. A groan trembled through him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but didn’t stop her momentum as she nudged him upward.
Through the combined effort of her pushing and him pulling himself up along the railing, they reached the slick landing. Without her PALM to swipe, it took two attempts to punch in her code before the outer doors of the decontamination zone opened. They stumbled inside together.
Wynn reached for the inner panel, pressed the controls, and sealed them inside. Mist flooded the room in a great rush of air, coating them in a white sheen. He braced a gloved hand against the wall, head bent. She remained where she was, supporting his weight.
Beep.Contamination levels popped up on the control panel, the numbers the highest she’d ever seen. The rush of wind swirled around them with more vigor, the next wash of cleansing fluid thicker. Moisture dripped from their bodies in thick clumps.
She looked up at him, encountering her reflection in his dark glasses, the shape of her visor warped, her face pale behind it. His ravaged jaw clenched and flexed. The chemicals at this stage were meant for outerwear, not the skin.
