The lab table islands were all in place, but overturned lab stools were scattered through the room, and she smelled urine so strong it overpowered the vinegar stench. She swept her flashlight beam over tables and shelves, ignoring the old chemistry books and lab manuals scattered across the floor. She passed by the glass beakers, round bottom flasks, Ehrmeyer flasks, test tubes, plastic pipettes, and glass tubing lined up on the table tops. Her grandfather’s buried trailers would have this kind of equipment inside them, and she didn’t want to try to carry it across the country. But when she found a length of rubber surgical tubing she rolled it up and stuffed it into the inside pocket of her parka. As she approached the instructor’s lab table the urine stink grew stronger. She shined the light over the floor. A few dozen empty pseudoephedrine boxes lay scattered and crushed among shards of broken glass and torn paper.
What do You think about Crisis Event: Black Feast?
