The road ahead of Jake to the entrance was longer than he hoped for. While the suffocating smoke was less present the lower he got, many other obstacles appeared and became more and more frequent. There were large disjointed or unstable hunks of metal all around him, one of them even fell down right after he stepped on it. Not to mention the stairs were not always safe either, some portions were broken or just straight up gone, forcing the [i]absolutely nonathletic[/i] Jake to jump, plunge and tumble his way through. Injuries accumulated, but at least he made progress - and that helped keep his cool. He [i]really[/i] did not want to break down in the middle of the apocalypse.

And then there were the people. Jake quickly remembered that this is not his quiet, solitary apartment in the suburbs of New York anymore (and even that turned to hell when the UN finally stumbled upon him...memories, one of the last ones). There were a thousand people here - when the facility was functional, that is. Probably half of them were dead because of whatever colossal happened. Probably another bunch by the hands of other inmates right now. Probably he will be the next. [i]Probably[/i] he should get the fuck out of here before it's too late. These were the dominating thoughts in his mind when hearing the variously pitched shrieks, yells and screams wherever he went. He never expected that not being an apathetic psychopath would ever hurt him, but this was one such time. What a blessing it would be to just ignore absolutely everything and waltz down the stairs calmly to freedom, he thought. Heck, maybe even embrace the chaos and join the slaughter.

No, Jake was not that kind of man. He was desperately trying to keep his sanity where many lost it and his focus where many panicked. This latter became very difficult when he legitimately felt a gunshot whiz past right next to him. When he looked behind, he saw a tall man with pistol in hand, his expression dead serious. This same sight could have been his very last one were it not for another prisoner who ran into him from the side, seemingly by accident and resulting in a brawl to death. Jake thanked God or whoever was in charge for them so-called wretched criminals and continued moving with hasty steps.

There were still a couple levels to go and all the horror accompanied by the vivid near-death moment just before was starting to get to him. He needed to find something to keep his mind in order and on track - and what is better for the analytical brain than a nicely organized [i]list?[/i] Jake collected all the things that he should have thought about earlier if not for the sudden (and very welcomed) kick-in of survival instincts.

[indent]1) He is not in space anymore, the Apox centre somehow got down to Earth - crashlanding probable.
Avoid sharp steel pieces sticking out here and there, walk past a bloody corpse impaled on one of them.[/indent]
[indent]2) The facility is not functional anymore, cryostasis off, inmates free and no guards anywhere - all hell is loose.
Descend another level, watch out for more dangerously smoking pods.[/indent]
[indent]3) If the date on the terminal was correct, he is now more than a hundred years old.
Sneak past three arguing inmates, start to see the end of the line and the first ray of sunlight bursting in from a large hole in the wall.[/indent]
[b]"I can't be far off now..."[/b] he muttered with hope and enthusiasm in his voice. The little list-making occupied his mind quite well, he did not have much to go now. Even though he promptly ignored of what will happen after he is out of this hellhole, it was always his style to focus on one thing only - but focus on that one well.

One more dodge, one more jump and there he was. Walking on stable ground at long last, on the long corridor that, after a couple turns, leads to the exit. Jake stopped for a moment. Why, when there was so little remaining from his long and messy path all the way from the middle of the B Deck...he could not answer. All he knew was that it was time to finally catch his breath.
However, when the adrenaline started to wear off, pain took its place. All the small scratches and bruises really added up over the time, his already fragile body sent pulses of agony through him. He also noticed that his left leg did not quite move as the other one - when he pulled up the cloth from there he noticed a very small piece of extremely sharp glass being stuck in his flesh just above his knee. [b]"Oh shit...ohh shiit..."[/b]

His hands shook heavily as he tried to get a hold of it. His mind was racing meanwhile, nothing to keep it regulated now. He remembered: he was half-caught in the blast of one of the pods while trying to make a smooth jump through some broken stairs, the glass from its front shot out like shrapnel all around it. And he was unlucky enough to catch one right in the left leg. In fact he was quite amazed he managed to stay so focused he did not even notice what was definitely a great burst of pain. But now it made him suffer in full effect and then some. He knew he had to pull it out, lest the wound get poisoned. And he also knew he may not even be able to walk for a while after he's done.

He hesitated. He took a few steps with the piece still in, but every time he lifted his leg the excruciating pain shot in. In the end he took a deep breath and pulled the glass out with one decisive movement. The next five seconds were the worst ones in his entire life, he wanted to scream from on top of his lungs but he only hissed a great deal. [b]"You spent a hundred years in the company of hardened murderers and now you wanna die because of this little piece of shit..."[/b] He scolded himself then started walking, or more like limping towards the exit without stopping this time.

Fortunately there was nothing and no one else in his path and he reached the destination in no time. The sun's warmth and all the green shades of nature were exact and much better opposites to what he saw and felt in the crumbling Apox centre. He looked around, trying to decide where to go next. That's when he noticed a group of people just ahead. There were like five of them. One was quite dead though and another was laying on the ground, possibly injured. The most prominent figure was certainly the woman with long blonde hair, leaning over the injured one and quite possibly the leader, if there was one, of the ragtag group.
Quickly, Jake counted the things needed for his survival.
[indent]1) A gun.
2) Some medical help.
3) A pair of glasses - there was a reason he had them since childhood.
4) A fucking clue of what's happening and how to progress.[/indent]
They seemed to have at least one of these things. So he stepped closer.

[b]"Umm..."[/b] he began awkwardly, not thinking too ahead before. [b]"Could I...could I be of any help?"[/b]