Chapter 4: The Oxygen Clock
502 Words
The thick, colorless fire-suppression gas hissed out from the ceiling vents, rapidly displacing the air inside the sealed server room.
Farhan pressed his sleeve tightly against his nose and mouth, crouching low behind the heavy steel frame of Row G. His lungs were already burning. The gas was designed to extinguish electrical fires by starving the room of oxygen—which meant he had less than three minutes before he lost consciousness.
A heavy metallic footstep sounded just two rows away.
"You think you're clever, Farhan?" Vance's voice sounded muffled. He had pulled a compact emergency respirator mask over his mouth. "You severed Node 4, but the primary payload is already executing on the backup servers in Sector B. You just delayed the inevitable."
He's lying, Farhan thought, his mind fighting through the fog of oxygen deprivation. If the backup servers had full control, he wouldn't be hunting me in the dark.
Farhan looked up through the flickering red strobe lights. Near the ceiling at the far end of the room was an emergency ventilation hatch. It was narrow, but it led directly to the building's central maintenance shaft.
The problem was the ten feet of open floor between him and the wall ladder. Vance stood right in the middle, sweeping his silenced pistol methodically across the aisles.
Farhan reached for a heavy, discarded server power supply unit on the bottom shelf. He pulled out his pocket knife, exposed the thick copper wiring, and jammed it directly into the high-voltage busbar of an active server rack.
SPARK! SNAP!
A violent arc of blue electricity exploded in a shower of brilliant white sparks, accompanied by a loud bang from popped capacitors.
"Ah!" Vance spun around instinctively, firing two quick rounds toward the blinding flash.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Farhan lunged out from cover. He didn't run for the exit door; he scrambled up the steel framework of the server rack like a ladder, hauling his weight toward the ceiling hatch.
Vance realized the trick a second too late. He raised his weapon, targeting Farhan’s back. "Stop right there!"
BANG!
The bullet grazed the metal rung inches from Farhan’s hand, sending sparks flying. Farhan kicked backward with all his remaining strength, sending a heavy server module sliding off the top rack. It slammed squarely into Vance's shoulder, knocking the executive off balance and sending his pistol clattering across the floor.
Gasping for air, Farhan popped the latches of the ventilation hatch, pulled himself up into the dark duct, and slammed the metal door shut—locking it from the inside.
As he crawled on his knees through the narrow metallic duct, the phone in his pocket vibrated violently.
It wasn't a call. It was an encrypted text message from an unregistered number.
Farhan pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking against the glass screen:
VANCE WAS JUST A PAWN, FARHAN. WELCOME TO PHASE TWO.
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