Ethan McLaren swung the garbage bag over his shoulder, adjusted his night vision goggles and sneaked through the passageway, staying close to one side. The six-hundred-watt lights in this space wasn't on. But he knew that could change within the second if someone opened a door or if he walked in the center of the passageway. There were still sounds of laughter, chats, some tv show and the usual mysteries of silence behind some of the closed doors lining the passageway as he moved along.
"Report, code 1... code 1, report..." A loud, static voice echoed in the distance. It was as if it came from an intercom or a radio transceiver. Ethan froze, then slowly looked left and right as if his eyes would've made a loud sound if he'd moved them too quickly. He was thinking he would be caught, his life was over, twenty years of hard work were for nothing. No one would understand. He was dead. How did it get to this? Christ, what the hell was he doing here?
Stay tuned for Chapter 2...