I couldn’t lure them all down here one by one. They would get suspicious. I needed to change the game. I looked at the oxygen tanks, highly flammable, explosive if ruptured. I grabbed a wrench. I loosened the valve on one of the spare tanks just enough to let a steady hiss of gas escape. The room started to fill with pure oxygen.
I found a rolling medical cart. I carefully unplugged the incubator’s battery backup. It had 2 hours of charge and loaded the unit onto the cart. I was taking my son and I was leaving them a surprise. I pushed the cart toward the storm doors I had entered through. The fresh air hit my face. I rolled the cart out into the night, hiding it behind a thick row of hedges about 50 yard from the house.
I covered it with my camouflage tarp, leaving enough air flow. Stay quiet, soldier. I whispered to the baby. I went back to the basement door. I took a road flare from my kit. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled. Vector. The name echoed up the stairwell. I heard the commotion upstairs. Footsteps running. Hunter. Victor screamed. He’s in the basement.
