(CST)Griff lay prone on the floor of the Kitchen, with a spin ratchet, a screwdriver, and a flashlight beside him. Working with any sort of tools in a biocontainment suit was like swimming in molasses—possible, but certainly no fun. The targets were the screws securing the slotted front grate of the ventilation shaft. The heavy screwdriver turned awkwardly in his gloved hand, falling again and again. Most of the lab equipment in the Kitchen was specially designed for the decreased mobility of BL-4 laboratory work, and the extra effort and concentration required to maneuver the tool had Griff’s heart racing. Droplets of sweat condensed on the inside of his faceplate, reducing visibility in the already dimly lit workspace. But turn by turn he was making progress.Two screws out.… Now, three …One to go.The groove of the final screw was nearly gone, and the body was stripped, making the already difficult task nearly impossible. Griff needed some sort of lubricating spray, but there was none.
