The maintenance corridor narrowed as they pushed deeper, the walls sweating condensation from the sudden temperature swing. The white gas kept rising, thickening, swallowing the floor in a rolling tide. Every breath scraped.

  Maya hauled Taylor against her shoulder, his weight dragging her sideways. His head lolled. His lips were turning a washed-out grey.

  “Taylor,” she said, voice sharp. “Stay awake.”

  He didn’t.

  Leo stumbled beside her, coughing hard enough to fold in half. His wrist display flickered, glitching under the interference.

  “It’s accelerating,” Leo rasped. “The halon concentration— it’s not linear. It’s compounding. It’s—”

  “Speak later,” Kam said.

  He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. The heat radiating off him was enough to clear a narrow path through the fog, a moving pocket of breathable air.

  But the corridor was long.

  Too long.

  And the gas was rising faster than they could move.

  Maya’s foot slipped. She caught herself on the wall, dragging Taylor up with her. His chest hitched once, shallow and uneven.

  “Kam,” she said. “He’s crashing.”

  Kam didn’t look back. He kept moving toward the heavy maintenance door at the far end — a slab of reinforced steel with a manual wheel lock.

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  Behind them, the ventilation system groaned.

  Then the hiss intensified.

  A fresh surge of white gas poured from the vents, denser, colder, heavier. It hit the floor like a dropped curtain.

  Leo’s display screamed a warning.

  “Kam— it’s not just halon anymore. They’re mixing coolants. Industrial-grade. This is— this is meant for server fires, not people.”

  “It’s not for people,” Maya said. “It’s for him.”

  Kam reached the door.

  He grabbed the wheel lock.

  Metal shrieked under his hands as the heat warped it. The wheel softened, sagged, then bent like cheap plastic. Kam forced it anyway, muscles bunching, steam rolling off his arms.

  Behind him, Maya’s breath hitched.

  “Taylor— Taylor, look at me—”

  He didn’t.

  His eyes fluttered once, then rolled back.

  Leo dropped to his knees beside them, gas swirling around his waist. “He’s hypoxic. Maya, he’s— he’s not getting oxygen. We need to ventilate him. We need—”

  “We need out,” Kam said.

  The wheel lock snapped.

  Kam shoved the door.

  It didn’t budge.

  He shoved harder.

  The frame groaned, metal warping, bolts straining. Heat radiated outward in a shimmering wave, pushing the gas back in a widening arc.

  But the door held.

  Behind him, Maya’s voice cracked.

  “Kam— he’s not breathing.”

  Kam turned.

  Taylor lay limp in Maya’s arms, head tilted back, mouth slack. His chest didn’t rise. Didn’t fall.

  Nothing.

  Leo’s hands shook as he checked for a pulse. “Come on— come on—”

  Kam stepped toward them.

  The gas recoiled from him, revealing Taylor’s face in stark, clinical clarity.

  Still.

  Grey.

  Wrong.

  Maya looked up at Kam, eyes wide, terrified, furious.

  “Do something.”

  Kam knelt.

  He placed a hand on Taylor’s sternum.

  Heat bled into the boy’s body — not enough to burn, just enough to force movement, to force circulation, to force life.

  Taylor’s back arched.

  He gasped once — a ragged, broken sound.

  Then he collapsed again.

  Leo’s voice cracked. “That’s not sustainable. Kam, you’re— you’re cooking him. You’re—”

  “Keeping him alive,” Kam said.

  The door behind him groaned again, metal warping under residual heat.

  The ventilation system screamed.

  A new alarm blared overhead:

  SANITATION PROTOCOL: PHASE TWO

  Leo’s face drained of color. “Phase Two is— Kam, that’s— that’s total displacement. They’re going to purge the entire corridor.”

  Maya clutched Taylor tighter. “We need that door open.”

  Kam stood.

  He turned back to the door.

  He didn’t brace.

  He didn’t think.

  He hit it.

  The impact shook the corridor, dust raining from the ceiling. The door dented inward, bolts snapping free in a spray of sparks.

  He hit it again.

  The frame buckled.

  He hit it a third time.

  The door tore free, ripping off its hinges and crashing into the darkness beyond.

  Cold air rushed in, sweeping the gas back in a swirling retreat.

  Kam turned.

  “Move.”

  Maya lifted Taylor. Leo staggered to his feet.

  They ran.

  Behind them, the corridor filled with a deafening roar as Phase Two activated — a white tidal wave swallowing the space they’d just escaped.

  Kam didn’t look back.

  He didn’t need to.

  He could feel the system trying to erase him.