50

"Why can't we just run?" asked Max.  He was pale and fidgety, and he seemed about to cry.  "It can't catch all of us, not if we spread out."

"No, Max," Chase said, putting one arm around his son, the other around Elizabeth, who trembled slightly but seemed impassive, as if prepared to accept whatever could happen.  "I don't want it to catch any of us, especially not you two."

He went to the window, shaded his eyes and peered out into the darkness.  He could see the thing more clearly now, a ghostly shape against the black.  How much time did they have?  Chase couldn't tell, for the thing was moving slowly, veering left and right, almost aimlessly... almost, but not quite, for with every brief tack it advanced a few feet closer to the house.

"Let's do it," he said.  He turned to Amanda.  "Are you sure you've got the sequence down?"

"Positive.  But I still—"

"Good."  Chase took the children's hands and led them to a small closet behind the decompression chamber.  "It'll be dark," he said, "but you can handle that, right?  Amanda'll be with you."

Tentatively, the children nodded, and stepped into the closet.

Chase held out his hand to Amanda, moved close to her and whispered, "If anything goes wrong — anything — take the kids and head for the Mako.  You should have plenty of time; the least I can do is stall the goddamn thing."

"Simon..."

Impulsively, Chase kissed her.  "In you go," he said, and he ushered her into the closet and closed the door.

He went to the control panel on the wall, pushed the master button that activated the decompression chamber.  There was a hum as the machinery engaged, and a hiss as the pressure tanks buried in the walls began to fill.  He turned the lights out in the room, all except the pressure-shielded pink bulb inside the chamber.

The he climbed through the hatch and crouched down, waiting.