2/3rds done, and that’s the problem. This is supposed to be only 1500 words.
I wasn’t running because I was afraid. I was running because I didn’t want to die. Understand this.
Dr. Methuselah’s secret lair looked different, away from the main rooms and promenades and shark tanks. It was all corridors with bulkheads, metal doors, and four-way intersections, and when I tried doors at random I could’t get them open. Maybe I could have busted through one, but there was a lunatic with one of the enemy’s zappers right behind me, and if I spent too long in one place, I was dead. If I tried to close the distance with him, I’d be dead. If I ran into one of Dr. Methuselah’s minions, geez, I figure I was dead then, too.
Yeah, it was just like a nightmare. Thanks for noticing!
The horrible part was, all I needed was somewhere to hole up and get a chance to ambush the lunatic behind me. Did I think it would work? Nope. Was it better than getting shot in the back? Damn straight I thought so.
Good news was, I’m in great shape, so I wasn’t winded. The bad news, so was Sarge. The worst news of all was, I wasn’t sure who was faster. Strike that: I knew the zapper was faster than both of us, which is why I needed a better option than all of those identical doors — wait! One of them wasn’t identical; the light above it was blinking. My fingers were pulling at the latch before I could even worry if it was a trap, and the door opened easily. It closed easily, too, with a reassuring clunk.