Read Online Crisis Event: Black Feast by Greg Shows, Zachary Womack - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Greg Shows, Zachary Womack
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Department, the Molecular Bioscience Department, and the Human Ecology Department. All the way up the smell of vinegar clung to her, burning her sinuses and making her eyes ache.
As she searched through the chemistry labs across the hall from the chemistry department’s offices, she wondered what had happened to all the professors. Had they been killed and eaten by the maniac downstairs? Had they slipped out of town and been evacuated? Had they died of starvation or disease or violence, along with the majority of the population over the past nine months? Were they still alive somewhere in Shanksborough but dying now?
The first lab was a mess. The lab table islands were all in place, but overturned lab stools were scattered through the room, and she smelled urine so strong it overpowered the vinegar stench.
She swept her flashlight beam over tables and shelves, ignoring the old chemistry books and lab manuals scattered across the floor. She passed by the glass beakers, round bottom flasks, Ehrmeyer flasks, test tubes, plastic pipettes, and glass tubing lined up on the table tops.
Her grandfather’s buried trailers would have this kind of equipment inside them, and she didn’t want to try to carry it across the country. But when she found a length of rubber surgical tubing she rolled it up and stuffed it into the inside pocket of her parka.
As she approached the instructor’s lab table the urine stink grew stronger.
She shined the light over the floor.
A few dozen empty pseudoephedrine boxes lay scattered and crushed among shards of broken glass and torn paper. A cooking set-up—complete with a propane tank, electronic scales, a burner, and round bottom flasks—sat on the instructor’s desk, some moron’s idea of a joke.
The jokester had been cooking meth.
“How cliche,” she said, and let swept her flashlight over the room again.
To the right of the whiteboard behind the instructor’s lab table, a door stood partially open. Sadie moved quickly to it, using her boot to push a crushed cardboard box out of the way so she could open it.
Sadie stepped into the darkness behind the door and found a long hallway-like storage room. It was similar to the storage and supply room she’d escaped through downstairs, only this one was three times as long—probably due to the layout of the labs.
“Heck yeah!” Sadie said. Then she shined her flashlight along the floor and walls and all elation vanished.
All the cabinets and pantries stood open, their contents pulled out and thrown to the floor
Some of the cabinet doors had been ripped off their hinges and hurled down the long room, or rammed through the sheetrock walls so that they hung suspended.
Three vent hoods hung over work benches covered in garbage and broken glass. Counter tops had been built above the floor cabinets, but they were covered in broken and smashed containers. Spilled powders and liquids had mixed together and melted part of the countertops or dried to a hard crust.
Sadie shined her light over the floor, which was littered with plastic bottles that had been opened and flung in all directions. Old chemistry books—some of them from the nineteenth century—had been torn to shreds and scattered like confetti.
Hundreds of footprints covered the multi-colored powders and crystals and wires and broken lab equipment now crushed and ground together in a mess on the floor.
Sadie shook her head when she found the bright yellow pile of sulfur that had been dumped on the floor and had become contaminated with a reddish powder that might have been rust, or neutral red staining powder, or red phosphorous.
If she ran a magnet over the pile or heated it she might be able to tell. But then again, she might poison herself or blow herself up experimenting.
As she continued down the long storage area, she couldn’t help thinking about how stupid people were.
Whoever had destroyed this lab hadn’t understood the wealth of raw materials they’d had right
As she searched through the chemistry labs across the hall from the chemistry department’s offices, she wondered what had happened to all the professors. Had they been killed and eaten by the maniac downstairs? Had they slipped out of town and been evacuated? Had they died of starvation or disease or violence, along with the majority of the population over the past nine months? Were they still alive somewhere in Shanksborough but dying now?
The first lab was a mess. The lab table islands were all in place, but overturned lab stools were scattered through the room, and she smelled urine so strong it overpowered the vinegar stench.
She swept her flashlight beam over tables and shelves, ignoring the old chemistry books and lab manuals scattered across the floor. She passed by the glass beakers, round bottom flasks, Ehrmeyer flasks, test tubes, plastic pipettes, and glass tubing lined up on the table tops.
Her grandfather’s buried trailers would have this kind of equipment inside them, and she didn’t want to try to carry it across the country. But when she found a length of rubber surgical tubing she rolled it up and stuffed it into the inside pocket of her parka.
As she approached the instructor’s lab table the urine stink grew stronger.
She shined the light over the floor.
A few dozen empty pseudoephedrine boxes lay scattered and crushed among shards of broken glass and torn paper. A cooking set-up—complete with a propane tank, electronic scales, a burner, and round bottom flasks—sat on the instructor’s desk, some moron’s idea of a joke.
The jokester had been cooking meth.
“How cliche,” she said, and let swept her flashlight over the room again.
To the right of the whiteboard behind the instructor’s lab table, a door stood partially open. Sadie moved quickly to it, using her boot to push a crushed cardboard box out of the way so she could open it.
Sadie stepped into the darkness behind the door and found a long hallway-like storage room. It was similar to the storage and supply room she’d escaped through downstairs, only this one was three times as long—probably due to the layout of the labs.
“Heck yeah!” Sadie said. Then she shined her flashlight along the floor and walls and all elation vanished.
All the cabinets and pantries stood open, their contents pulled out and thrown to the floor
Some of the cabinet doors had been ripped off their hinges and hurled down the long room, or rammed through the sheetrock walls so that they hung suspended.
Three vent hoods hung over work benches covered in garbage and broken glass. Counter tops had been built above the floor cabinets, but they were covered in broken and smashed containers. Spilled powders and liquids had mixed together and melted part of the countertops or dried to a hard crust.
Sadie shined her light over the floor, which was littered with plastic bottles that had been opened and flung in all directions. Old chemistry books—some of them from the nineteenth century—had been torn to shreds and scattered like confetti.
Hundreds of footprints covered the multi-colored powders and crystals and wires and broken lab equipment now crushed and ground together in a mess on the floor.
Sadie shook her head when she found the bright yellow pile of sulfur that had been dumped on the floor and had become contaminated with a reddish powder that might have been rust, or neutral red staining powder, or red phosphorous.
If she ran a magnet over the pile or heated it she might be able to tell. But then again, she might poison herself or blow herself up experimenting.
As she continued down the long storage area, she couldn’t help thinking about how stupid people were.
Whoever had destroyed this lab hadn’t understood the wealth of raw materials they’d had right
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