The Countdown

(Note: This story began from a prompt in a book. The prompt is in bold – the rest of it is mine.)

Count to ten, he told himself. Close your eyes, count to ten, and maybe it will be gone. He closed his eyes, but just as quickly opened them again. It was real; it wasn’t going away. Slowly, he raised the flashlight again and directed the beam toward the words scrawled large across the metal wall. The red paint still gleamed wet and dripping. But what made Robert’s heart stop was not the fact that whoever had written it had been there less than an hour ago. It was the words themselves.

WE’RE RUNNING OUT OF TIME.

The anger he had felt at seeing the first message had disappeared completely. Now he felt only numb fear. Whoever wrote this was right. The entire mission was running out of time.

Robert’s mind was made up. All thoughts of going to the West Corridor were gone. His only purpose now was to find the person who wrote the messages.

He glided back in the direction he had come from, his mind spinning with ideas of who it could be. 

Max had said he was worried about some technical issues with the shuttle. But Tessa had said she didn’t trust the Space Force people… and James was awfully quiet. 

Robert made up his mind. He would talk to Max first.

Robert glided to Max’s door. He knocked.

There was no answer. A feeling of dread washed over him. 

He knew now. Max had written the messages. 

A Space Force guard would be here any minute to take Robert too.

They were out of time.