Transmission Lost

Chapter 7 - Hangman knot

His fingers felt the thin red fabric and his skin captured the velvet sensation. Philip carefully observed the small knot, his thoughts circling its meaning. It marked an old plastic bag, hidden away from the ordinary eye. Was it a warning? A sign of delivery perhaps. Kneeling next to the bag, Philip reached for its opening sealed with duct tape. Hesitant about what he may find, he tore away the fragile seal.

Food. Water. Rations. Without a second thought, he dug into the plastic haven, taking out the sealed goods. The taste was dull, but he could feel each nutrient sinking into his cells. It felt like sand between his teeth, but he didn't stop. Philip devoured the small brick packed with nourishment and threw the open wrapper to the floor next to him. As he reached for another mundane treat, his hand froze. Among the supplies, he noticed a circular tin container. As he wrapped his fingers around the can, it fit perfectly into his palm.

Philip leaned in and took a whiff of the lid. It smelled of steel and rotting dampness. He tightly gripped the lid and unscrewed it with a tad of struggle, set to uncover the true aroma. The strong smell hidden within poured onto his face. Its strong vines invaded his nose hidden under the piece of fabric and made his head slightly spin. It was a vigorous scent with a hint of refreshing spice. He stared at the small army of thin grey pouches. Unsure of their contents, Philip leaned closer again, carefully conducting the examination.

The shot of the strong scent directly from its origin erased all his doubts. He has heard of such material before, even going as far as seeing one of his buddies back in Poland use it. But what didn't make much sense to him, was why was it among the unspoilable rations. He screwed the thin lid with a fading emblem of the British empire back in its place and hid the container in the safety of his inner pocket. Can't let the others see.

There was too much to carry in one go and the crates weren't exactly compact. He would have to carry them out and bring the car over. Not an ideal plan at all. Aleksei turned the storage room upside-down in search of something better to carry all the food in. His hunt came out fruitful as he found two cardboard boxes and a shopping bag. He filled them to the brim and holding them under his arms, Aleksei stepped back into the poorly lit corridor. His eyes trailed to the path trodden in the dust as he stood surrounded by the dark shroud. He wasted no more than one last hesitant twitch of a muscle for the stranger and walked back from where he came.

Aleksei found himself getting lost in the running tangents. As he pushed through the crossroads, he fit the box under his left arm to free his hand and use the yellow flashlight. The indicators of direction have fallen, leaving Aleksei to navigate the labyrinth blind. He struggled to find the stairwell drowned in the weeping red light. Like a pond in a desert, it disappeared from his view when he needed it the most. But when one door closes, another shall open.

Light. As he carefully traversed through the darkened halls, his eyes met with a streak of light on the ground. Its rays escaped from under the giant pair of doors pushing through the holes and gaps within the plates in pursuit of reaching the hidden halls. He stood in front of the metal doors. As his hand was met with firm resistance upon touching the gates, he put down all he carried and took a few steps back. Once his back aligned with the wall opposite the doors, Aleksei lunged forth and kicked the doors. The steel exit didn't break under the force of his attempt, however. It only redirected the impact to the sender, shooting a cold arrow of pain through his knee.

Aleksei stumbled back leaning onto the leg that didn't receive the chilling pain. He gritted his teeth and fought back the gut-wrenching yelp. An injury was the last thing he'd need. He knelt to his rucksack and unstrapped the pry bar from its side. Metal groaned against metal as he jammed the pointy end between the locked doors. The garish song of the creaking hinges sounded through the confined world. Its teeth gritted into all concrete falling apart, oxidation grasping its vines around faltering screws, grown slowly through the metal jaws.