The Chemistry of Death

Chapter 50

Joe’s eyes burned so much he could hardly see Celeste and Leandro. Every breath scalded his throat and lungs. His body convulsed with coughing, and each cough drew more contaminated air into his lungs. Based on his current rate of decline, he probably didn’t have five (brown) minutes left where he’d still be able to function.

He looked to where Leandro stood on the edge of the roof, his hand on the grips of Celeste’s wheelchair. After Joe died, Leandro would pull her over the side. She would know that Joe had been too weak to help her. Her last thought as she fell to the pavement would be that Joe had let her down.

“Let her go,” Joe yelled. That small effort started another coughing fit, and he fought to keep from doubling over.

“She’ll make her choice, too,” Leandro said. “I think she’ll choose to go with me.”

The gas had pooled on the floor now, snaky tendrils of yellow-green wrapped around his wheels. A long ago chemistry class had taught him that chlorine gas was heavier than air. He would die faster on the floor.

Joe stood, bent at a weird angle because his wrist was still zip-tied to the wheelchair. His ankle hurt, and he ignored it. He took a step toward the glass door, but when he got to the band of sunshine across the floor, he stopped as if he had run into a solid wall.

It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t take another step forward. His heart beat so fast it was a constant roar in his head. His breaths rushed fast and shallow, drawing in the poison gas. Dread radiated from every cell in his body.

He was trapped.

His choice had been made for him.