Chapter 4 - The Pressure Point
"Don't move!" Mark yelled, grabbing Sterling by the collar and yanking him back just as the arc sparked blue against the iron conduit.
A small fireball puffed from the vent valve, singeing Mark’s sleeve. The diesel tanks hadn’t ignited yet, but the room was a bomb waiting for a spark. The iron ladder ran directly between two pressurized tanks toward the roof hatch thirty feet above.
Clara let out a low moan in Mark's arms, her eyes fluttering open beneath the silicone mask. "Mark..." she whispered, her fingers weakly clutching his uniform lapel. "The pain... it hurts so bad."
"I know, baby. Hold on to me. Wrap your arms around my neck," Mark instructed, fastening his carabiner tether around her waist to anchor her body against his chest harness. "Sterling! You go first. You open that roof hatch, or none of us see daylight."
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Sterling didn't hesitate; driven by raw terror, he scrambled up the rung ladder. Mark followed, rung by burning rung, his calf muscles knotting under the strain of carrying two lives on his back. Ten feet. Twenty feet. The heat radiating off the metal walls was baking them alive.
Sterling reached the hatch wheel and shoved upward with all his might. The hatch swung wide, flooding the soot-choked shaft with cool night air. But as Sterling climbed out, he didn't reach down to pull Clara up. Instead, he kicked his foot against the release lever on the exterior latch to lock it behind him.
