James Grippando - Leapholes

"Okay, lower me!" said Ryan.

The coach let out too much rope, too quickly. Ryan plunged several feet and nearly lost his grip. "Slower!" shouted Ryan.

Coach reeled back, and Ryan inched his way down the shaft.

"I'm there!" shouted Ryan.

Coach stopped feeding him rope. Inside the dark shaft, Ryan was suspended before the closed elevator door that served the floor below. It was a typical elevator door that slid from left to right. A vertical strip of light at the far edge told him that lights were burning in the hallway, just on the other side of the door. Ryan quickly formed a plan. It was like the rock climbing wall at a carnival. All he had to do was rappel. He put his feet on the panel and braced his back against the wall. Then he pushed. Slowly, the door started to slide open.

"How's it going, Ryan?" the coach shouted.

"It's going!" he said through clenched teeth..

"I can't hold on too much longer. You're heavier than you think!"

Ryan glanced at the gaping hole below him. It was ten stories, maybe more, straight down. That couldn't be a pleasant way to die. "Just hang on, Coach!"

Ryan pushed one last time with all his leg strength. The door slid open. Ryan swung on the rope like Tarzan on a vine. Then he let go. For a moment, it seemed as if he were flying in slow motion. He could smell the smoke above him. Beyond the opening, he saw the clean, tile floor stretching out before him. Mostly, however, he saw the dark, seemingly bottomless shaft below. He was falling, not flying. He had nowhere near enough liftoff to soar all the way to safety. He was going down the shaft.

"Ryan!" the coach shouted.

Ryan was dropping fast, but the rope was beyond his reach. Thankfully, the elevator door was still open. Somehow, he managed to reach up and grab the very edge of the floor. Ryan was hanging by his fingertips at the threshold. He stayed there just long enough to regain his strength. His elbow was a throbbing reminder of his bicycle accident, but he worked through the pain. His Phys-Ed teacher would have been proud. It was the fastest pull-up in the history of the universe. Ryan shot through the opening and rolled onto the tile floor.

He looked back through the open doorway. All he could say was, "Whoa."

He quickly got his bearings. This floor, one-story below his friends, appeared to have been untouched by the fire. It was definitely the safest way out. He spotted the emergency stairwell near the elevator. He ran to it and turned the door handle. It opened.

"Yesssss!" he said aloud.

He sprinted up the stairwell, gobbling up two and three steps at a time. In no time, he reached the door to the higher floor. He turned the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

Smoke immediately hit him in the face. The fire had reached a new level of intensity. He coughed and said, "Come on, everyone! This is the only way out!"

They came in a rush-Coach, Sling Man, Head Case, and Flu Lady, who was still toting her bucket. "Where's Kaylee?" said Ryan, holding the door.

"Right here." She emerged through the smoke, then gave him a wink and said, "Nice of you to worry."

It made him blush. "I wasn't-oh, never mind. Follow me."

Ryan led them down the stairwell. The smoke followed them. When he reached the bottom, he tugged on the door handle. It wouldn't turn. "It's locked!" said Ryan.

"It must have locked automatically from the other side," said Coach.

The stairwell was sucking in smoke like a chimney. They rushed down another flight of stairs and found another door. "This one's locked, too!" said Kaylee.

"Stand aside," said Coach.

The door was made of metal, but it had glass on the top half. The coach stepped back, then leaped and delivered a martial-arts kick. The glass shattered and fell to the floor. An alarm sounded, but they didn't care. Coach reached through the opening and unlocked the door. It opened, and the six hurried inside.

"We made it!" said Kaylee.

"Stop right there!" a stranger shouted.

Ryan spotted a man at the end of the hallway. He was dressed in what looked to be a spacesuit. The alarm suddenly stopped. Two other men in identical strange suits ran to the broken door. They quickly sealed the opening with heavy tape and thick plastic sheeting.

"Sorry about the door," said Ryan. "We're just trying to get to safety."

"It isn't safe here," the man said. His voice had a mechanical sound. He was speaking through a microphone in the glass helmet that encased his head.

"Please," said Kaylee, "this is the only way out."

The man's tone turned even harsher. "You have no idea how much danger you're in."

"Where are we?" asked Coach.

Ryan's gaze drifted toward the broken glass on the floor. He hadn't noticed earlier, but now he saw the red-painted lettering. The glass was shattered, so it was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle. The jagged shards were just large enough for him to piece together the warning.

It read: INFECTIOUS DISEASE CONTROL CENTER: QUARANTINED.

At that moment, Ryan realized that these men weren't wearing spacesuits. These were hazmat suits. They wore them as protection from contagious diseases.

"Oh, boy," was all Ryan could say.

"You can say that again," the man said through his hazmat helmet.

Ryan and his five new friends were seated at a table in a brightly lit conference room. It was easily the cleanest place Ryan had ever seen, so spick-and-span that it could have made a dentist's office look like the inside of his friend "Sweaty" Colletti's gym locker-and that was a very dirty place indeed. The floor and walls were a glossy white, not a speck of dust anywhere. The table and chairs were highly-polished chrome. There were no pictures on the walls, no potted plants in the corners, and no clutter of any kind on the table. There were no windows, of course, and two men in yellow hazmat suits stood guard at the only door.

Ryan saw no easy way out.

The door opened, and another man entered the room. He also wore a hazmat suit, but his was bright orange. The men in yellow showed him a level of respect; he was obviously their leader. He positioned himself at the head of the long rectangular table. He remained standing, looking down on his uninvited guests. "My name is Dr. Watkins," he said through the speaker in his helmet. "It is my duty to inform you that no one will leave this room until I say so."

"We can't stay here," said Ryan. "This building is going up in flames. We'll all die."

"The fire can't reach us here," Dr. Watkins said. "This is an insulated, self-contained, underground bunker. You six are the first ever to breach our security. Congratulations."

"We weren't trying to breach anything," said Ryan.

"I understand that. Unfortunately, the fire caused our security system to malfunction. Had it not been for that, you never would have found your way down the wrong hallway."

"I guess that's why I didn't see any windows," said Ryan.

"Exactly. But you're here now, so I can tell you this much about your misfortune. This underground facility was built with the cooperation of the international medical community. Its location-indeed, its very existence-is top secret, We are not evil scientists trying to take over the world. We are men and women from around the world who have come together to create a research center to fight a disease called BODS."

"BODS?" said Ryan. "Never heard of it."

"It is extremely rare at this point. There are only eight documented cases in the United States. But it's very deadly. And it's highly contagious, if it is not contained immediately. That's why the infected patients are treated here, where they are quarantined."

"Why is your work a secret?" asked the coach.

"If word were to get out that the most deadly disease ever known to mankind could be spread from one person to another simply by breathing the air, a worldwide panic would ensue."