Lin Mei pressed the speaker grille of the portable Casio register against the frosted rubber gasket of Drawer #14.
Behind her in the corridor, a cloud of blinding white vapor hissed into the damp air with a freezing roar.
PSHHHHHH!
Dr. Corvo and Mac were working in desperate tandem along the bottom tier of lockers.
Corvo carried a pressurized silver Dewar flask of liquid nitrogen from Bay 1. His gloved hands clamped the brass lance as he aimed a sub-zero jet at the glowing cam-latches of Drawers #01 through #05.
Every time Corvo squeezed the trigger, a freezing blast of liquid gas engulfed the locks, frosting the metal over and chilling the internal mechanisms before the electrical heating elements could trip the fatal ninety-eight-point-six-degree release.
Beside him, Mac swung a heavy iron spud wrench, tightening the exterior lock dogs to brace the vibrating doors against the cadavers clawing inside.
“Keep the frost on them, Victor!” Mac shouted, wiping freezing spray from his protective goggles. “Drawer #03 is kicking like a freight car on a bad switch!
