The Gender End by Bella Forrest (top young adult novels .txt) 📗

annoyed expression that drifted across her face. “And no thanks—you’ll lock me in there.”

“I won’t strike any deal unless I can see that you have it.”

I hesitated, and saw Ms. Dale helping Morgan up into the vent, sweat dripping down her forehead.

“I’m going to prop the door open,” I said. “One minute.”

I moved over to the airlock door and pulled it open, wedging one of the chairs from the workstation into the opening. Inside the chamber, I held up the egg toward the camera for a moment, slowly moving it around so I could change the angles. After a few seconds, I lowered it and stepped back into the lab.

“Satisfied?” I asked as I thrust it back into the bag.

“What are your terms?” she asked, and I wondered if I was imagining that her voice was colder, darker than before… that she knew I’d had her fooled.

“Sierra, and the antidote for Ms. Dale. First aid for Thomas. Safe passage for all of us.” I stated the demands while Ms. Dale pulled herself completely into the vent.

“Fine. I’ll send a warden down to retrieve—”

“No deal,” I said. “I’m dealing with you, and we’re dealing here, in the lab. The creatures in this place will keep us all honest.”

“I’m not going down there—that place is suicide.” Her face looked rather smug at the thought. “There’s a lab close to you. Lab 3C in the level above. Go out this airlock and look for a ladder leading up in the next cavern. You’ll have to find it after that, but I haven’t released anything on those levels yet. I’ll come down, we’ll do the exchange in the airlock, and, as a gesture of queenly goodwill, I’ll even let you leave unscarred.”

I highly doubted that, but then again, I had no intention of meeting Elena at Lab 3C. At least, I had no intention of being where she expected me to be—so I guessed we were dealing on the same level.

“Fine,” I replied.

“If you try anything, I will know,” Elena added, and then the screen went dead. Her warning echoed in my ears as I climbed up onto the desk and held my bag, the egg back inside it, up to the vent. I was waiting for Ms. Dale to grab the bag, but also, I needed an excuse to take a moment before climbing through another vent.

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Viggo

I kicked a spider that suddenly appeared looming over Thomas, sending it flying, and grabbed Owen.

“We need the code!” I shouted as I shot another spider shimmering into view.

“One… three… three… eight…” Thomas wheezed, his bloodstained fingers reaching up for the door. “I can… get it.”

“I got it,” Owen said, his fingers dancing over the keyboard. The door clunked as the locks released, and Owen began spinning the wheel while I covered our backs. The spiders were still coming, in greater and greater numbers, and I knew that if I didn’t do something, we’d never get the door shut—I had no idea how many more were out there.

Grabbing at my belt, I shouted, “Grenade!” and hurriedly removed one, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the room at the approaching spiders. I knelt down and shielded Thomas’ eyes as the flash grenade went off behind me, the white phosphorus light flashing red behind my eyelids. I gave it a second before I opened my eyes and turned to look over my shoulder. The spiders were wobbling around, mostly visible and clearly disoriented, and I pressed the advantage.

I grabbed Thomas under the armpits and began to drag my friend through the gap in the door as Owen fired rounds at the closer spiders. I pulled Thomas in and set him down as gently as I could, though I could see him wincing, and moved to help Owen close the massive door. The door swung inward slowly—too slowly—but the spiders were still stunned. We had time.

I reached the door and began to pull, straining against the weight to make it close faster, when a hairy leg slid in through the ever-narrowing gap, hitting me in the knee. It didn’t hurt, but my knee folded up under me, and I fell, thrusting out my arms to catch myself. Still, my chin struck hard on the door, my teeth feeling like they were going to be jarred out of my head, and I fell to my knees.

Looking around, dazed, I saw Owen yanking on the door, trying to close the gap as the hairy legs scrabbled to pull it back out toward the lab. He had let go with one hand and was firing at the legs sticking through the gap, blocking them from moving. Two more appeared, higher up, and Owen dropped his gun with a yelp and grabbed the door with two hands, pulling against the combined strength of the two arachnids—and losing as the gap grew wider.

I scrambled to my feet and grabbed the wheel, pulling hard. The door resisted for a second, and then there was a sickening crunch, and I felt something hot spray against my arm and neck as the airlock slammed closed. Owen broke away as soon as the door was closed, moving toward Thomas while I turned the wheel, sealing us in. There was a click as the door sealed tight, but relief was impossible to find.

Turning, I saw Thomas panting hard and Owen kneeling over him, hands pressed to the wound on Thomas’ stomach, trying to staunch the blood still flowing from the wound, fast. I dropped my bag and tore it open, searching for the first-aid kit that had shifted to the bottom of the bag.

“Tell me what to do, Thomas,” Owen said, his voice holding a frantic edge.

Thomas continued to pant, clutching at Owen’s hands, his eyes wide, terrified, tearing up.

“I knew this would happen,” he stuttered out, each word punctuated by a short gasp. I felt the hard case of the first-aid kit and pulled it out, my fingers suddenly feeling nerveless.

“Shut up, Thomas,” Owen told him.