Chapter 33 Don't Look Back

Chapter 33 Don't Look Back
Zane POV 

"Are you there?" I whispered into the dark and I heard the wheels scraping the shaft floor before I saw them and then three sets of movement and I realized it was them and I said, "Nyla?" and she rounded the corner and stopped for one second and our eyes met in the low emergency light and I felt everything I had held in the last hours compress into that one moment and then Dr. Voss moved past us without a word and I whispered, "Follow her, keep up," and I fell in beside Nyla and we moved through the shaft together, every scrape of metal against metal, every groan of the wheelchair wheels, every echo pressing against us and I said, "This is it, keep going, almost there."

The shaft narrowed and the wheelchair became a constant problem and I said, "Tilt it, tilt it this way, careful, careful, slow now," and Nyla adjusted instantly, not needing my words really, just following instinct, and I whispered, "We cannot stop, not now, keep moving, push through."

My legs were fighting me, sedatives still holding on like a shadow over my coordination and I gritted my teeth and whispered, "Just one more junction, just one more corner, don’t let go, don’t fall," but at the third junction my legs gave completely and I went down against the shaft wall and Nyla was there before I hit the floor and I felt her arm across my shoulders and I whispered, "I am okay, keep moving, keep going," and she did not ask if I was alright, she just got me back up and we continued together, step by step, scraping and grinding through the shaft and Dr. Voss did not slow down for anything, her eyes locked on the end of the shaft like it was the only thing that mattered and she whispered, "Keep her steady, do not falter, almost there."

We reached the pressure release hatch, circular and rusted, and I hit it with my shoulder once and it did not give and I hit it again and on the third impact it released with a grinding resistance that echoed like a roar in the shaft and the cold air hit us and I gasped and Nyla’s mother made a small sound, involuntary, a recognition of something she had not felt in seventeen years and I whispered, "Do you feel it? Can you feel it? We are outside, almost free, keep moving."

I dropped through the hatch first and hit the service road, the cold air biting, the night empty and quiet, and I turned to receive the wheelchair and Dr. Voss guided it through, efficient, precise, without hesitation and I whispered, "Here, steady, keep her safe, don’t let go."

Nyla followed with the wheelchair and I heard her whisper, "Almost there, almost free, don’t look back, don’t look back," and I felt the words press into me as I guided her out and then Dr. Voss passed through herself, landing cleanly on the road with an agility that surprised me for her age and I whispered, "We made it, we are outside, we are safe, we are moving."

The service road stretched out before us, dark and cold and empty in both directions and above us the facility loomed, flat concrete, no windows, nothing revealing the horrors inside, and I glanced at it for a second and then turned away and whispered, "Do not look back, not now, not ever, keep moving, stay with us."

Nyla whispered to me, voice shaking but firm, "Zane, we did it, we are out, we are alive, we have her, we have her," and I whispered back, "Yes, yes, we have her, keep moving, every step counts, do not stop, we are not safe yet but we are moving, we are alive, we are together."

Then she whispered again. “How about your father?”

I felt a sense of pain but I couldn't talk.

Dr. Voss adjusted the wheelchair and whispered, "Keep straight, follow me, the road is clear, just a little further, we move together," and I whispered, "We will make it, we have to make it, almost there, almost free, every step exact, every breath counts, do not falter, do not slow."

Nyla’s mother looked at me with eyes open, aware and fragile and strong at once, and I whispered, "Hold on, we are here, we are moving, I will not leave you, I will not let anyone take you, every step, every second, we go together, we survive together, we are almost free."

The road stretched endlessly under the night sky and I whispered, "Keep your hands on the wheelchair, Nyla, steady, steady, do not let go, every motion has to be perfect, almost there, almost free, do not falter, stay with me, we move together."

Dr. Voss glanced at me and whispered, "You are doing well, keep moving, steady, almost there, the exit is just ahead, focus, every step counts, we survive together," and I whispered back, "I know, I am ready, every step, every motion, every second counts, we move together, we are alive, we are free, stay close, do not look back."

Nyla whispered, "I cannot believe this, I cannot believe we are here, we are outside, we are alive, I have her, I have her," and I whispered back, "Yes, you have her, we all have her, hold tight, every step, almost there, do not slow, keep moving, do not look back."

The cold bit through our clothes and the emptiness pressed against us but I whispered, "Do not stop, we have to keep moving, every motion, every step, every breath counts, we survive together, we move together, almost free, almost safe, do not look back."

We continued down the road, every movement careful, every breath measured, and I whispered, "We are alive, we are moving, stay with us, keep her steady, do not falter, almost there, the end is ahead, almost free, every step, every motion counts, keep moving."

Dr. Voss whispered, "This way, follow me, the road is clear, stay close, every motion exact, almost there, we move together, we survive," and I whispered back, "Yes, we are moving, almost free, do not slow, stay with us, every step counts, every second counts, do not look back."

Nyla whispered, holding her mother’s hand tightly, "I cannot believe she is here, I cannot believe she is alive, I cannot believe we are moving," and I whispered back, "Yes, we are alive, we are moving, hold tight, almost there, do not falter, we survive together, keep moving, do not look back."

The facility remained behind us, flat and silent, the night stretching out before us, dark and empty, and I whispered, "Do not look back, not now, not ever, keep moving, stay together, we are alive, we move together, almost free."

Dr. Voss whispered, "We are close, keep moving, the road is clear, steady, every step counts, almost there, we survive together," and I whispered, "Yes, almost free, every step exact, every motion counts, stay close, do not slow, do not look back."

Nyla’s mother looked at me, fragile and aware, and I whispered, "Hold on, stay with us, we are moving, every step counts, every second counts, do not falter, we are alive, we are free, do not look back."

I felt the air around us, the cold pressing, the emptiness, the night wide and dark and open and I whispered, "Do not stop, do not falter, keep moving, almost free, every step, every motion, every breath counts, we survive together, do not look back."

Nyla whispered back, "I am holding on, I will not let go, we are moving, we are alive, I have her, I have her," and I whispered, "Yes, we have her, hold tight, every step counts, every motion counts, almost free, keep moving, do not look back."

Dr. Voss whispered, "Straight ahead, the road is clear, keep moving, every step exact, almost there, we survive together," and I whispered, voice low but firm, "Yes, we are almost free, stay with us, every step, every second, do not look back."