Sara pushed open the emergency exit door and stepped inside. She was at the top of a flight of concrete steps that headed down one floor.
She was at the physical limits of her plan. From this point, she was flying blind.
The stairs might lead to an exterior door, or they could lead deeper into the facility, cornering her, ending her search and depositing her in a military prison cell for probably the next twenty years.
The thought of being cooped up in a low-ceilinged cement box sent a jolt of panic through her, robbing her of purpose. She stood for a second, teetering on the hang of the step, as if invisible wires tethered her to the exit door behind her. The image had a particular terror for her, like being buried alive. She wasn’t sure why.
Don’t think. Move.
Before any other thoughts could come, she thundered down the stairs, her arm gripping the iron balustrade for support.
Behind her, a crash signalled the entry of the guards into the storage closet. They would swarm through the room and be at the top of the stairs in seconds.
Sara leaped down the last few stairs and landed on both feet. She was on the second level, a short passageway dead-ending in metal doors in both directions.
She quickly took her bearings. One of these doors would be closer to the outside shell of the building and one would be an interior door.
Behind her, she could hear the heavy boots of the guards on the stairwell.
If she chose the wrong direction, she would be sunk.
She hesitated, retracing her steps, conjuring up in her mind a three-dimensional model of her route in the past few minutes. She had turned a one-eighty from her entry through the green door one floor above her. The courtyard had been on her left-hand side as she had entered. That meant whatever was behind the door to her left was closer to the outside of the facility.
She ran down the corridor and pulled open the door.
It was a utility closet.
Empty, other than a sink fixed into the far wall and a dirty mop lying on the floor.
A dead end.
The guards had reached the lower ground floor. Their voices were amplified as they bounced against the walls of the stairwell, creating the impression that she was being pursued by an army. It was too late to try the other door.
She had no option now. There was only one way to go, and that was forwards.
She slammed the door shut behind her and locked it.
Think. Every problem has a solution. Think.
She had come too far in her search for it to end here. This was not going to be the end of her story. Not after everything she had been through. Why did she choose this direction?
Heavy fists began pounding on the outside of the door, creating a cacophony that crowded the thoughts from her head.
Sara willed her synapses to keep firing, guiding her.
If her instinct had been right, then on the other side of the far wall of the utility room was the north end of the car park. The wall to which the sink was fixed must be an exterior wall of the building.
Her thoughts had not yet taken the shape of words when she kicked the sink as hard as she could: a shotgun blast that shifted the sink, causing it to dip significantly on the side.
Sara kicked it again, harder this time.
Spider web cracks appeared in the wall, running outwards in seams from the point of connection of the sink.
She put her head closer to the taps. She could just about make out the thinnest line of clear sky through the hairline fracture running through the concrete.
Sara stood up and took a step back, breathing hard to build up her strength for a final kick. A jangling sound could be heard on the other side of the door. A wheel of keys was being turned, someone sifting for the right one.
Her next move would decide her future.
She took two strides at speed and scissored her heel at the sink. It split cleanly in two, falling with a loud cracking sound on to the floor, and immediately released a fountain of water that drenched Sara to the skin. The main water pipe had been damaged, and the size of the aperture and the quantity of water combined to give the fountain the power of a high-velocity fire hose. The entire cell was caught in the spray, coating the surface of the gunmetal-grey walls immediately.
The destruction of the sink had created a porthole-sized breach in the wall.
Sara willed her feet to move and cross the length of the room.
But she was staring down at the floor. In only a few seconds, the water had collected in a thin film that covered the entire surface. It was halfway up her heel now.
Wham! An image of a young girl hit her. She was sitting in a bath, water rising and covering her knees and chest, until she had to tilt her head at an angle and raise her nose to breathe.
The image robbed Sara of breath, leaving her gasping. It dropped out of nowhere and yet had the emotional force of a memory.
The spray of water from the ruptured pipe pummelled the far wall.
Wham! Another image hit her. Hours bleeding into each other as the girl sat shivering in the dark.
The force of it transported her back, immobilizing her. She was not just seeing these images. She was that little girl.
The door handle was pumping down, keys rattling in the lock.
She took a final look behind her and ran for the far wall, throwing her arms in front of her and diving through the gaping hole.