Chapter 32:

The man returned to his seat; he wasn’t going anywhere. I bit my lip. What should I do? Leave, exit into a different room, and open a door for the others? It would’ve been so simple if this guy could just…fuck off. 

I had to continue. The vent bent slightly under my weight as I crawled, the dust stinging the palms of my hands, staining them black, and I suddenly wished I had thought to buy gloves. Did I have magic to help me? The pressure of my weight on the dirt particles and stray bits of grit was agonizing; I closed my eyes to review what I knew. Let’s see… if something is in my way, inanimate, and annoying…item box? 

If the item box could store blades of grass from a few feet away, could it do the same for this dirt? I willed the dirt on my hands to enter the item box. Success. My eyes lowered to the vent. Dirt! Obey my command! 

The path a foot in front of me cleared. I smiled. Ha~! Vacuum cleaners eat your heart out! I smugly continued forward, cleaning the enemy’s vent for them. Something about the idea bugged me, but I ignored it. Could I bill them for this?

It was a few minutes of heavy breathing and sweat before I reached another opening. Army crawling…it looked so easy in games! Why was this such hell? I looked down through the grate. I could barely see in the dark. I lowered my ear to the opening, listening intently for any shuffling movement or muffled speech. Nothing. 

I could use Alter Sight to have night vision, but that would make it difficult to tell if I were visible. I used it on one eye, blinking a few times as I adjusted to the change. No one inside, this time I was certain. I jumped into the room, crouching behind a box. 

I breathed a sigh of relief at the difference in posture, rubbing my calves as I looked around. What was inside these boxes? I looked at the door. No movement. My hand crept towards the lid of one crate. I peered inside. 

Grain? How boring. This wasn’t one of those fake storage boxes, was it? If I dug my hand around would I pull out magic drugs or something? No way these goofballs were storing grain in a barely sealed wooden box, right? Seemed to be asking for pests. 

My hand dove beneath the surface, searching for anything suspicious. I leaned over, barely able to keep my balance while digging through the stuff, when I heard footsteps outside the door, and fell inside. Shit! 

I scarcely had time to pull the lid back into place when the door opened. I slowed my breathing, trying to ignore the growing feeling of suffocation, and strained my ears. 

Footsteps.

They were growing louder.

My heart beat faster, my breaths slowing to a crawl. The scraping of a lid next to the box I laid in caused me to tense.

The person messed with the grains inside, the scattering sounds growing increasingly frustrated. What were they looking for? My limbs itched to move, but any careless shift could make a sound that exposed me. 

My breath brushed against the lid, bouncing back warm against my mouth. Panic played at the edge of my consciousness, desperate for me to climb out of the enclosed space. Images of the box being nailed shut flashed through my mind. Me, stuck, dead in the grain, suffocated…

I needed to get out. Had to. My breath quickened, only exacerbating the growing, screaming need for fresh air. The person outside, unaware of my panic, seemed to find what they were searching for. The grains in the box shifted as they pulled something from it. 

My fingernails clawed at the wood of the lid, desperate to rake down, when the squeaking sound of the door shutting hit my ears. I pushed the lid open with all my strength, and sat up, breathing heavily. My body lowered as the stuff beneath me moved. My hand sank into it, coming into contact with something. I froze.

My fingers curled around it, and pulled it to the surface. I looked down. Powder? In packs? No way, right? Had I stumbled into a drug cult? I put it in my inventory for later inspection.

I’d have to tell Gale about this. Claustrophobia notwithstanding, this was turning out to be an excellent adventure. I pushed myself from the box and crept towards the door.

I peered through the lock. Visibility was limited, but it seemed to be a normal hallway. No sounds of anyone moving. My hand reached for the doorknob, before I remembered how loud the creaking had been. If I opened it, anyone nearby would know. Could I jump through the keyhole?

I could. I stumbled as my perspective changed, and I looked around. No one but me. The hallway extended to bends on both sides, curving off into an unseen direction. Which way led towards the doors I’d seen outside? 

I slinked in a random direction, jumping when I could to reduce the sound of my footsteps. A familiar song played in my head as I snuck around, a smile dancing over my lips. This is so cool…

Cold stone met my back as I peered around the corner. A metal door ten feet away caught my eyes, as did the person guarding it. Damn him! Why stand watch so seriously? Go slack off or something!

I bit my lip. Could I do something to distract him? I peered further down the hallway. Past the man was another room, the door barely cracked open. It was dark inside. I smiled. 

I jumped, popping into the new room. It was a supply closet. The room was small and cramped; I was grateful I hadn’t knocked over any of the implements when I had teleported in. What could I use as a distraction? 

A metal pail met my gaze. 

The weight settled in my hand as I hefted it. Was it made of lead, or had I grown weaker? It squeaked as the handle moved, and I lifted it high into the air, before dropping it. The cacophony of metal scraping stone was an assault on my ears, and I could only imagine how far the ruckus had spread. 

The man’s voice came quickly. “The hell…?” 

I peered from the crack of the door towards where I had come initially, and set my eyes on a patch of shadow. 

I jumped right as his form enveloped the crack. I turned, noting his distracted gaze, and jumped once more to the door. It was locked; I opened it quickly, and left towards the direction I’d come. 

The man was still investigating the closet, cursing to himself, and I felt the urge to knock him out; I looked at my twig arms. No chance. I clicked my tongue and slipped back into the storage room. I jumped back into the vent, grateful I’d cleaned it previously. The spotless metal kissed my hands with its chill. 

I crawled as fast as I was able, smiling all the while. I had done it! Home free! I could place myself among those action-adventure heroes! I was gonna rub this in Draven’s face so hard when I saw him. 

I approached the first vent. I crawled to it, movements slow and deliberate, careful not to make noise over the man’s head. He was still sitting at his desk, rifling through paperwork, when I crossed over the gap. I smirked. Idiot won’t know what hit him.

My chronic smugness was interrupted by the sound of something cracking. My blood froze. There was no way—right?

My doubts were dispelled with the shattering of metal and the feeling of weightlessness. I screeched like a beleaguered chipmunk as I fell through, the vent collapsing beneath me, and I twirled into the air, writhing and panicked. 

The breath was knocked from me by the impact of my landing. I looked up, dazedly, at the man staring at me from his desk. His eyes were near-popping from his head, surprise written across his face, hand halfway to the paper. 

We froze, staring at each other, before my breath returned and I smiled at him.

“Need a paper?”