While the smell and feel of the duct was disgusting, she was more concerned about what she would find up ahead. If the shaft didn’t have proper airflow, was there a blockage ahead? A cave in?
When she reached the end of the straight duct, she had a choice to slide down one incline to the right or the other to the left. She flatted out on her belly and let her head hang over the edge the platform. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply from each side. On the right, the air felt warmer and smelled of decay and death. To the left, the air seemed cooler and fresher.
She settled on the left and shimmied until her feet were hanging over the edge of the platform. She maneuvered her pack off of her back and onto the stone floor in front of her. Using the lamp on her helmet, she looked along the walls until she found the metal anchors permanently fixed to them. She took her time fixing her anchor ropes and tested them three times before sliding back and rappelling down the shaft to the next level. It was a nearly straight drop, and she didn’t look forward to the climb out that awaited her.
At the next level, she reached across the shaft to the square access window into the actual metal ducts that carried air through the mine’s upper section. She tacked her ropes to the metal wall of the duct using a magnet and carefully wiggled out of her harness, boots and belt. She couldn’t risk the metal clanging or scraping against the bottom of the duct as she crawled. She put her things inside her helmet and placed them next to her ropes.
Although the camera would take the photos she needed, properly surveying the ducts and rooms below would require pencil and paper. She reached into her pack for both and then cracked a glow stick from her pack. It was rated to last twelve hours, but from her experience in the mines, she knew it was more like eight. Nothing that came out of the company store was worth a damn.
Holding the stick between her teeth, she used her body length as a measurement. She carefully counted the lengths until she reached the first bend in the duct. After scribbling the measurement on the paper, she followed the bend into the next length of straight ductwork.
The metal surrounding her was slick with mildew and stank of rust. The smell made her gag at first, but the slimy film made it easier for her to move without making noise. The fire suppression system supply lines ran the length of the duct works. The pipes were old and failing, dripping water steadily into the ducts. She wondered why the men living in the mine didn’t seem to care about the mold and mildew and filthy water dripping down into their living spaces.
As quietly as possible, she eased toward the first register. The grille was caked in filth, but she was able to see into a dimly lit room below when she pressed her face against the metal slats. Inside the room, there were stacks of canned and dry goods and medical supplies. She worked the tiny finger-like probe between the slimy grates to get a clear recording of the room’s contents before continuing her journey.
The next grille was over a room packed to the brim with weapons. Certain Cipher would want to know exactly what was in this makeshift armory. Worried the photos she was taking might be inadequate, she wrote down any numbers or designations she could see on the crates of weapons and hastily sketched the others that were mounted on wall racks. The thought that Cipher might be injured if she failed to bring back the best intel made her extra diligent in her note taking.
Satisfied she had captured everything in the room, she moved along to the third register. Even before she reached it, she could hear voices. She hastily tucked the glow stick into her back pocket to block the light from reaching the grille. Holding her breath, she eased forward until she could see into the room.
A strange smell tickled her nose. Rather, it wasn’t strange in the sense that it was unknown. It was strange in the sense that it didn’t belong here. The smell of damp hay wafted out of the room below, and it made her slightly woozy to breathe the barely there scent.