Connor and Vince fight their forbidden attraction as they attempt to rescue themselves and fellow residents of the underground Refuge facility from a toxic breach.
*****
Conn...
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An intense nausea took over me as I placed the oxygen-nutrient pack on Randolph's shoulders and double-checked the pressurization of his airtight helmet. The thought of sending someone outside to the surface against his will didn't sit well with me. The more I learned about the Resurfaced mission, the more the facts disturbed me. Had Randolph's innards twist in knots when he escorted Dad out to his death?
Standing before the airlock door with Em, Dr. Smith, and Dr. Price Cutler didn't make my queasiness go away as I had hoped, instead it forced me to bear it and put on a nonchalant demeanor. Vince and Tamara couldn't feign it and refused to try, so they decided to listen to the send off from Control through the microphones embedded in the helmets.
It was sickening how audio was taken of Dad and his partner, Patrick, as they explored the harsh surface until their suits malfunctioned. When discovering that truth, it provided me the motivation to escort Randolph, ensuring that my face be the last he saw from the facility.
We were more considerate of human life than Randolph and his allies ever were, because we made sure their suits were properly assembled and they had adequate water, nutrients, oxygen, and supplies. This was no death sentence. This was not banishment. This was a chance for them to finally make something good and worthwhile out of their cruelty. If it resulted in death, so be it. That was a risk worth taking in the pursuit of redemption.
Randolph tucked an embroidered patch into the front pocket of his suit with his gloved hands. The memento read: Cadet Vincent Moore. Although he didn't want to leave the safety and comfort of the facility, he didn't protest. Without a word, he stepped over the threshold with his four men and down the darkened corridor toward the lift.
The heavy door creaked on it hinges as my weight pushed against it, hoping to close it faster than the automatic mechanism allowed. Finally, it closed, snug within its space, and locked.
The contents that churned within my gut spewed out of my mouth with violent force. Sweat tickled my brow, and the need to get as far away from the door as possible hit me.
~~~
My eyes snapped open to the chime of the clock on the wall beside the bed. For a second I feared seeing red and hearing the panicked cries from the residents, but only the gentle caresses from warm and delicate hands greeted me. I waved a hand over the clock and the chiming stopped. I turned in bed to face Vince and a warmth flooded my heart, replacing the anxiety my recurring nightmares and memories brought me.
Even a month after exposing Randolph and his deeds, Vince and I found it difficult to smile freely in public, to indulge selfishly in private, or to escape the pain in the orgasmic fashion we longed for.
Nothing upped the morale in the facility since sending Randolph and his right-hand men to the surface. I had to remind myself it wasn't a death sentence, although we all were well aware it could result in one. The terms were simple: they could return if they found something viable for the facility or mankind. It wasn't an easy task, but they had to earn reentry, and we decided what constituted viable.
