The CRES code

Chapter One - A Rude Awakening

He was choking!

Fluid covered his face, covered his whole body. There was a mask on his face and a tube going down his throat, choking him, suffocating him! He reached a hand up to it, intending to pull it out, and his hand bumped against a hard surface above him.

His eyes flew open in alarm. Everything was dark! He felt the hard surface above him, pushed upwards against it. It wouldn't budge. Wild panic threatened to overwhelm him. He'd been buried alive! Left to die at the bottom of a deep, forgotten grave...

Suddenly there was light. Someone had opened a hatch above his face. Through it he could see fluorescent tubes in a high ceiling and a face looking down at him. A face he recognised.

The top of the cabinet he was lying in opened like a coffin lid. He threw himself upwards and his head erupted from the fluid he was lying in, sending it spilling over the edge to splash on the tiled floor. He clawed at the mask covering his face.

"It's okay!" said the other man. "It's okay. Take it easy. Here, let me help you."

The other man reached around to the side of his head, where a strap held the mask in place. He undid the buckle, then pulled the mask away, faster and less gently than he should have. The tube down his throat came with it.

The man in the cabinet retched as he felt how the tube went all the way down to his stomach. Fluid ran down from the top of his head into his eyes and ears. It felt thick and syrupy. Some went into his mouth. It tasted salty.

The last of the tube came out of his mouth and the other man threw it away. The man in the cabinet tried to sit up, coughing and spluttering, but there was no strength in his limbs. The other man reached down to help him.

There were noises. Gunshots, by the sound of them, and the occasional loud explosion. It sounded like a battle taking place somewhere nearby. "Hurry, Sir," the other man said. "We have to be quick."

With the other man's help the man in the cabinet rose to his feet, then stepped carefully out, wiping fluid away from his eyes. The floor was cold under his bare feet. Fluid ran down his bare body to puddle on the ceramic tiles. The cabinet was large and blocky, made of gleaming metal. Tubes went from it to a large, complicated looking machine standing beside it. The hypersleep apparatus, he remembered. Where he was supposed to remain until...

"They've found a cure," he said, leaning against the cabinet for support.

"Not yet, Sir. We have to go." The other man placed a dressing gown around his shoulders, then began pulling him towards a door. Somewhere nearby, the sound of gunshots continued. A man shouted. More gunshots and a man screamed.

"What's going on? It's Wilson, isn't it?"

"Yes, Mister Randall. They've found you, sir. Please, we have to be quick. There's a car waiting..."

"Who's... Denby's men?"

"Probably, or maybe Birrell's. You have many enemies, Sir."

Randall followed Wilson through the door, still wiping fluid from his face. A man carrying an assault weapon appeared, wearing the uniform of the Consolidated Industries security services. "This way!" he said, gesturing towards a long corridor that led away into darkness. "We'll hold them off as long as we can."

Randall and Wilson broke into a run while the security man took position behind them, aiming his weapon into the hypersleep chamber. Two more security men appeared ahead of them. They waved the two running men through a side door, then they also remained behind to cover their retreat. The exertion caused Randall's heart to falter and he staggered, bumping a shoulder against the wall. Wilson took his arm and took some of his weight. "Not much further, Sir." Randall nodded silently and made himself continue to run.