《Area 51》2.3 Hunting for Survivors

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I lie on the blood stained ground for a moment, as the Adrenalin leaves my system.

The weight of the events that just happens comes crashing down.

How close I have come to dying.

I take a deep breath, inhale, exhale.

This was the first time in my military career that I have come this close to death.

Before I was recruited to work on this top secret base, I was in the army. I was involved in a few conflicts and have seen my fair share of death, but this is different.

I’ve always had comrade at my side, and the options to receive back up, or retreat. This is nothing like that, more visceral. I can’t retreat, there is no backup, I have no allies, I’m all alone.

The best way to describe how I feel is dread. A mix of terror, and despair.

I take a moment to center myself, and clear my mind.

…

I still feel the dread, but I don’t let it stop me.

Wordlessly I stand up, and grab my discarded trash bag that contains my supplies.

Then I continue to the sub generator, I’m getting out of here, one step at a time.

...

I check the environmental hazard sensor, the indicator is on orange.

Outside this suit the air is breathable, but breathing it long term is fatal, I need to find survivors quick.

I hurry to the sub generator room.

…

Once I reach it I attempt to open the door.

…

The door is firmly locked.

Next, I attempt to use my keycard.

>ACCESS DENIED<

It was worth a shot.

Lastly I knock. Quietly at first, and then increasing in volume.

*knock Knock KNOCK*

…

*knock, knock knock knock, knock*

A moment later I hear knocks coming from the other side of the door. It takes a moment before it dawns on me, another code, to check if I were a human, as there would be no way to verify from the other side of the door.

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…

*Knock, Knock*

I respond with the end of the pattern.

…

*thunk*

The door unlocks and opens slowly.

on the other side of the door stands a woman, I don’t think I have ever seen her before, but she still looks familiar. She looks slightly panicked, and is holding a heavy looking wrench.

Before I can make more observations on her she swings the wrench at me, I barely manage to dodge it.

“Woah, relax.” I say.

…

It takes a moment before realisation dawns on her and she looks embarrassed.

“Sorry, I thought, your uh, I thought you were one of them because of your, outfit.” She says.

I can understand her point of view, I probably look intimidating in my hazard suit, not to mention the sticky blood covering.

“No harm, no fowl.” I respond. “I’m glad to find another survivor.”

We begin to take our conversation inside, wary of any dangers in the halls.

…

We share an awkward silence for a moment, before I remember the urgency of the situation regarding the air quality.

“Those corpses outside are releasing toxic gas, so I’m wearing this suit to protect me, I’ve got a few back up masks, they should offer limited protection for you.” I say while opening my trash bag and handing her a full-mask, a small amount of alien blood is transferred to the mask from my hands.

…

She takes it, and wipes the syrupy blood off.

“The air does smell awful.” she says.

...

Another awkward lul in the conversation happens.

“Thanks,” she replies, “uh, I didn’t catch your name.”

“My names Dylan, nice to meet you.” I extend my hand for a shake, before retracting it as it is still covered in nastey, alien blood.

“Claire.”

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