Chapter - 331
The ventilation shaft was not designed for human travel. It was a steep, galvanized steel intestine that smelled of dead rats, Freon, and fifty years of accumulated dust.
Rick slid feet-first, his speed accelerating as the angle steepened. He could hear Sharon screaming curses behind him and Nadia whimpering behind her. The sound of the war raging in the ballroom above—the thump-thump of heavy ordnance and the crackle of energy weapons—faded into a dull, rhythmic vibration in the metal walls.
"Brace!" Rick yelled, seeing the end of the tunnel approaching rapidly.
The vent didn't end in a room. It ended in the ceiling of a room.
Rick shot out of the ductwork like a cannonball. He fell ten feet, flailing, and landed hard on a pile of what felt like... money?
He rolled, groaning, his bruised ribs protesting the impact. He sat up. He was sitting on a pallet of shrink-wrapped US hundred-dollar bills.
"Ouch," Rick muttered, patting the cash. "That's a hard currency."
