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Old 03-16-2017, 05:09 AM   #101
Icelander
 
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Join Date: Mar 2006
Location: Iceland*
Default Lord Almighty, I Feel My Temperature Rising

About half of the rat swarm seems to have run off, leaving half of them to probe the line of isopropyl alcohol on the stone floor, looking for a weak point or waiting for the alcohol to evaporate. Cherry Bell uses a stormproof match to set fire to a bandage soaked in ethyl alcohol and inserted into the bottle. Then she presents the flaming concoction to Taylor with a flourish: “Cocktail up!” Taylor grins and intones: “Blue 42! Blue 42! Hut, hut, hike!

Taylor was never a quarterback in high school. In his own words, “quarterbacks is for sackin’”. Whatever his reasons, however, weakness of arm wasn’t among them. Taylor whips the flaming bottle straight at the wall, just behind the line of isopropyl alcohol on the floor and right next to a knot of swarming rats. The plastic bottle hits the wall with enough force to burst open, splattering burning alcohol all over. Several rats are caught in the splash and several more catch fire from the burning fumes near them.

Taylor grabs the stretcher with both hands and runs ahead, heading left, making for the hole in the rat swarm he expects the flames to make. Dr. Anderson is surprised, not having associated the football chant with anything in particular, neither the basic idea of starting to move at the ‘snap’ nor the specific message of a blocking run play to the left, but nevertheless manages to follow Taylor without dropping Mrs. York. Cherry Bell runs behind them, dodging imaginary defenders with graceful, but overdone movements.

The isopropyl alcohol Taylor spread on the floor earlier catches fire from the flaming splashes from the burst bottle on the wall. As the fumes have had a little time to spread, the flames reach further than the rats seem to have been expecting, setting most of them ablaze, and igniting a chorus of agonised squeals along with dozens of furry critters.

As they get closer to the flames, Taylor pulls twice on one handhold of the stretcher to indicate to Dr. Anderson that they should angle to the right now, aim at a point on the floor where there wasn’t much alcohol and the flames seem to be starting to die down. Dr. Anderson, however, is running in what still feels like absolute darkness to him, with his eyes having been overwhelmed by the sudden flames. He fails to register the change in direction and when Taylor alters course, Dr. Anderson loses his balance.

Cherry Bell is close enough to see it happen. Given her obvious speed and agility, she might even be capable of catching his end of the stretcher before it hits the ground, sending Mrs. York tumbling out, perhaps into the flames. Bell makes no attempt to do so, however, simply leaping up and dodging the falling Dr. Anderson as if he were a tackling linebacker. When Taylor feels the stretcher start to lean over to the side, which would send Mrs. York into a dangerous tumble, he decides to go into a controlled slide to lower the front end of the stretcher, to try to reduce the impact and keep Mrs. York horizontal on the stretcher.

With impressive athleticism, Taylor manages to avert a crash landing for Mrs. York, turning the tumble into a slide. To do so, however, he is forced to end his movement inside the fire. His right side and right arm are bathed in flames, which briefly sets the vest and arm guards he washed in isopropyl alcohol ablaze. Taylor concentrates on keeping the fire away from Mrs. York while gritting his teeth and grunting in pain. The alcohol flames die down quickly and Taylor wasn’t inside them long enough for any of his clothing to catch on fire. The flash flames on his arm and side die down in some two seconds, as Taylor looks back toward Dr. Anderson.

Taylor: “Doc? Is you all right?”
Dr. Anderson: “Am I all right? You were just on fire!”
Taylor [trying to hide pain]: “Yeah, you knows how them spirits fires kin jes’ burn kinda cold.”

The squealing, flaming rats running off in all directions provide pretty convincing evidence that while fast-burning, the fire wasn’t particularly cold. Cherry Bell whoops joyfully.

Bell: “Whoo-hoo! Humans 21, rats 0. Touchdown, rat bee-atches!”
[Cherry Bell dances around a ring of burnt rat carcasses, doing the Bob & Weave]
Bell: “And, hey, Chasie, you’re clean now! All filthy lizard spores and disgusting plague germs have been killed with fire. Whoosh! This boy… is clean! Too bad you couldn’t cleanse Scales McPlague there with you. Maybe I can find another bottle to burn the nasty off her?”

Taylor gives Cherry Bell an incredulous and hurt look, which she either doesn’t see in the darkness or simply ignores. With elaborate casualness, Taylor then checks his right arm and discovers he seems to have a full range of motion. He allows himself to hope that the searing pain over his entire arm and right side is deceptive and it’s actually just first degree burns. More likely, however, blisters are forming and he might lose some motion and arm strength within the hour. Something to keep in mind when planning the next steps.

Dr. Anderson comes up to Taylor, wanting to see if he is injured, but Taylor shakes his head and guides Dr. Anderson’s hands to the stretcher so they can pick up Mrs. York together.

Taylor: “Sorry, doc. Don’t wanna stop, cain’t risk more light. Let’s jes’ move. Even if’n this ain’t gonna bring more rats, it sure musta alerted anybody and anything down here ‘bout where we is.”

The three take up their conga line progression again, moving in the direction of the cellars of D Wing, or at least, in the direction Dr. Anderson says will lead them there. Taylor tries to walk as quietly as he can, but with Dr. Anderson carrying the rear half of a stretcher and walking blindly, they are nowhere near as quiet as Taylor wishes they could be. At least Mrs. York slept through it all, which is a small miracle, all things considered.

The acrid stench of burnt rat fur and flesh means that Taylor can’t really make out the smell of the guards who were there before. He can still see sign of the wheelchair’s passage, but whether or not all the guards were still with it is more than he can tell. He also can’t tell if the dress shoes wearing man he thinks is O’Toole was still following them at this point in their trek. Most worrying of all, Taylor can find no sign that the guards left a blocking force behind.

It’s not that Taylor wants to run into an ambush of guards in the tunnels. Of course not. Even if they have a plan to bypass them without bloodshed, running into any number of hostile men with firearms is never desirable. On the other hand, Taylor is getting increasingly confused as he fails to see any sign of guards who have stayed behind in the tunnels. It ain’t possible to overlook somethin’ this basic. Warden Tyrrell mebbe is a few ants short of a picnic these days, but he done use to be a senior NCO an’ warrant officer. He cain’t be that stupid.

Regardless of Warden Tyrrell’s level of intelligence, the three don’t run across anything more threatening than bad smells and far away scuffling noises for the next few minutes. After that, they enter a narrow access tunnel which ends in a blast door that Dr. Anderson says will take them to the cellars of D Wing. Taylor and Dr. Anderson place Mrs. York gently down in her stretcher, outside any possible line of fire, and Dr. Anderson confirms that she is still sleeping.

None of the six keys Taylor is carrying fits the lock on the blast door, but Dr. Anderson’s lockpicks do, despite the high-quality lock. Fortunately, somebody inside forgot to engage the deadbolt. Taylor has a moment of panicked thought as he considers the possibility that the Warden and his men are not actually this incompetent, but are actually predicting his every move, suckering him into an elaborate trap.

If they are, however, the trap is not immediately beyond this door, as Taylor rules out anyone hiding in the cellar by listening for half a minute. He couldn’t actually hear a human heartbeat, not through a door this solid, but he figures that anyone breathing in the cellar would be audible to him. Faint footsteps indicate that someone is walking slowly down a corridor one floor up, but as far as Taylor can tell, absolutely no one in the cellar.

Taylor taps Cherry Bell on the arm and guides her to look at him through her rifle optics, turning on the IR illumination for a moment. Then Taylor gives her a military hand signal to ‘Stack up’ and follow him into the room. Cherry Bell takes up position behind him, prepared to cover his blind side with her rifle. She keeps fiddling with her rifle and is grinning from ear to ear as she waits for Dr. Anderson to open the door and let her and Taylor through.

Once the door is opened, Taylor and Cherry Bell glide into the room with their rifles pointing in different directions. The cellar is filled with old furniture, whiteboards, mothballed hospital equipment and other debris from when this wing used to be in use, but it seems to be empty of all people.

Before calling Dr. Anderson in, they confirm that by moving around and checking every likely hiding place, clearing two bathrooms, a supply closet and two large rooms that seem to be used for storage of more clutter. Then Taylor goes to help Dr. Anderson move Mrs. York into the cellar and they close the blast door behind them.

Taylor can hear the person walking slowly on the floor upstairs clearly now, even to the point of hearing his breathing. There are some others further off, probably on higher levels of the main building. Taylor can hear the radio of the person closest to him click to life.

Warden Tyrrell [over radio]: “My loyal Knights! This is King Tyrrell. Some of our radios have fallen into the hands of our enemies. This is why I’m calling with a message for that mouthy, disrespectful, inbred, cousin-----ing redneck, hillbilly traitor calling himself Chase Taylor.”
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Last edited by Icelander; 03-16-2017 at 05:28 AM.
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