I don’t think he’s going to get the thing open, he’s just one man,
but the hatch slides into the wall just enough for us to enter.
Henry and Maclin reseal the hatch behind us.
We’re in an airlock but it’s old and the
walls are cracked, it’s not exactly sterile anymore. Still,
Ellington runs the system through a standard decontamination
bioscan just to be safe. Overly safe,I think, because he
knows we’re all clean. As we wait for the decon scan to cycle
through its course, Shanley comes over to me and holds up a small
bottle of antiseptic spray. “Let me see your hands,” he says.
I hold them out, palms up, and now they’ve
begun to bleed, drops of dark red blood beading along the
scratches, not very pretty at all. The spray Shanley coats them
with is cold and numbing, and as I watch, the white antiseptic
dissolves away, leaving my skin itchy and damp. I’m all too aware
of Ellington watching us as he pushes the hood of his poncho back,