Rushing over to the table, Marissa attempted in vain to free Alex from the containment pod. Not knowing which one held him, she continued to futilely work on the console attempting to open all three. However, despite her most fervent efforts, the vitals around all the holograms progressed relentlessly towards zero. One by one, each of the organs systems began to fail.
“Get them out of there!” Marissa implored.
Without any other option, Tom took the nearest chair and began to pound it against one of the canisters. However, the palladium microalloy-glass would not crack, even under such stress.
He then took a few steps backwards and ran before hitting the pod again with the chair. Unfortunately all that broke was the chair. Its wheels flung in all directions and began to roll on the floor while one of its cushions was jettisoned half way across the room.
With only a broken frame in his hand, Tom attempted to impale one of its metal posts into the pod. Other than vibrating in his hand upon impact and creating a loud clanging noise, the endeavor proved just as useless.
While Tom and Marissa attempted to free Alex, neither noticed Dr. Harding slowly getting to his knees. Grabbing the side of the table for support, he pulled himself up to a kneeling position. Still dazed from the two blasts, he ascertained what was occurring just by looking at the holograms above the table.
Mustering all his strength, he placed his palm on the table and pressed a translucent button next to it with his other hand. Immediately, one of the pods opened, sending the gold-tinged fluid cascading onto the floor. The man inside the canister then began to fall lifelessly to the ground, disconnecting the wires on his helmt.
Tom the body before it hit the floor, saving him from any further damage.
Marissa looked over at Harding, understanding the man respected the Hippocratic Oath more than his loyalty to either The New Reality or Jules Windsor. Harding gave her a small smile, letting Marissa know that he meant no harm.
Tom recognized the man in his arms to be Alex Pella and laid him immediately on the ground. Checking his pulse, Tom looked frantically over to Marissa. “There’s no pulse,” he shouted.
As Marissa ran over to Alex she noted that all three holographic images now displayed the ominous title of DECEASED under each of them. Getting down to her knees, she, too, felt for a pulse.
Nothing.
Marissa instinctively began CPR. Lamenting she had left her medical bag on the ship, she pounded futilely on Alex’s chest. Tears began to race down her face, as the finality of the situation grew clearer by the second.
Looking over to Harding, she began to plead, “Do you have anything down here? A first aid bag? A vial of adrenaboost? Anything?”
Harding, on the other hand, was still recovering from his injuries and knelt on his hands and knees trying to breathe. The effort it took for him to free Alex usurped all his energy and ability to speak. He took in deep breaths just to remain conscious.
Tom finally grabbed Marissa’s right arm. “Enough,” he said, pointing to the hologram. “It’s over. We’ve lost him.”
With tears in her eyes and in utter despair, Marissa began to caress Alex’s right hand. She could not believe he was gone.
“We did everything we could,” Tom assured.
With her head hung low, Marissa took a deep breath. Just as she was about to respond, she thought she felt Alex squeeze her hand.
Marissa frantically looked up at Alex’s hologram, desperately hoping to see some sign of life on the readouts around his body.
The image had vanished. Instead the bold words LOCK DOWN now displayed repeatedly above the table along its length. The lights in the room were then replaced by an eerie red glow as the computers and the digital consoles in this underground facility went blank.
“Let’s get out of here before we’re trapped!” Tom implored.
“But,” Marissa wanted to say, while again frantically checking for a pulse.
Tom threw Alex over his shoulder like a rag doll before Marissa could utter another word. “I got him,” he said before Marissa could resist.
A blaring siren began to echo throughout the room. It was as if someone had placed a bullhorn next to their ears and began to shout. The pain was disorientating and immediately startled both of them.
Though wanting to attend to Alex, Marissa could barely keep her balance as the siren’s shriek made her whole body shudder in distress.
Got to get Alex back on the stratoskimmer, she desperately thought. Maybe there’s a chance.
Though appearing to shout something, Tom’s words were lost on her in the chaos of sensory overload. But his message became painstaking clear as she followed his finger to where he gestured.
Their exit had been closed. A metal door now sealed their only apparent means of escape.
Marissa stumbled over to the table, hoping to find anything still active. Maybe she could somehow manually override the lock down. Though the blare of the siren was overwhelming, she willed her mind to work. As she pressed futilely on the table along its entire length, nothing happened.
Marissa jumped as a cold, sweaty hand embraced the back of her neck. Hoping in some way to see Alex, she turned anxiously to be met only by the appearance of Dr. Harding’s pale face.
She stepped backwards.
Can I truly trust him?
Harding panted as sweat continued to pour down from his brow. Still not recovered from the effects of the electric pulse guns along with the mind-numbing blare of the siren, he attempted to remain on his feet without collapsing under the weight of pure exhaustion.
“Follow me,” he mouthed so that both Marissa and Tom could hopefully understand. He then began to stumble away.
Without any other option, Marissa took Harding’s lead. Immediately noticing the trouble he had walking, she took him by the arm as he escorted them over to an inconspicuous corner of the room. Unlike most other sections of this underground facility, this area was relatively bare, boasting only two lounge chairs that appeared purple in the red light.
Marissa could barely support Harding’s weight as the mind-numbing shriek of the siren and the hypnotic red light brought her to the brink of insanity. Before she could stop his fall, Harding collapsed into one of the chairs as his body went limp in the process.
Marissa’s knees buckled, sending her to the floor. Grabbing ahold of the chair, she luckily broke the brunt of her fall.
With as much effort as he could muster, Harding signaled Tom over to the other adjacent chair. Still holding Alex over his shoulder, Tom staggered over to the seat and slowly laid Alex’s body on top of it.
A clear tube arose from the floor and surrounded them; as the tube touched the ceiling, the intensity of the siren’s blare immediately subsided.
An escape pod, Marissa assumed as she watched Harding manipulate some sort of manual override under a concealed panel on the chair’s armrest.
The ceiling above them then opened like an aperture of a lens. In unison, a circular portion of the floor that was surround by the tube began to lift up and through the hole in the ceiling, taking all four of them in the process.
Marissa fell against the chair, jolted by the rapid ascent. Dim blue lights accompanied their journey, flashing by one by one as they headed to the surface. Though the siren’s blare slowly subsided to an almost inaudible pitch, she still felt nauseated by the whole experience.
Alex, Marissa thought as she crawled over to again grab his hand limply hanging over the chair. Please move, she mentally willed.
As sunlight from the top of the tunnel began to shine down from the exit above them, Marissa could not but help contemplate what new world she was about to enter.
What will happen to us?
Where will we go?
What will The New Reality become?
Though she could not fathom an answer to any of the questions, Marissa knew one thing. She needed to survive. If not for herself, then for the sake of the next generation to come. Marissa held tighter onto Alex’s hand. I know you’re still in there.
“This may help,” Harding hoarsely said, jolting Marissa from her thoughts.
“What is it?” Marissa asked, looking at a silver auto-syringe in the doctor’s hand.
“Hope,” Harding answered. “Hope.”