Breaching the Corridor

I dropped low and squeezed my shell beneath the thick weatherstripping of the front door. The compression was brutal, pinching my shoulders, but I shoved through onto the hallway runner. Out here, the carpet was a barren desert, dominated by a towering steel trash chute set into the far wall. The flap creaked under heavy vacuum suction. I advanced without hesitation, planted my combat boots on the slick brass trim, and thrust my blue cocktail umbrella directly into the seam of the heavy metal flap. The sudden rush of interior air pressure slammed back against my knuckles, jarring my arm. I braced my weight and held the line.