Death Trap by Sigmund Brouwer

platform buggy, glaring at me. All other eyes in both platform buggies stared at me.
    â€œSit him in a corner and make sure he doesn’t move.” Director Steven’s voice was thick with rage. “If he tries anything else, put him outside. Without a space suit.”

CHAPTER 24
    It took five minutes for the scientists in our platform buggy to forget about me and Director Steven’s threat.
    Mom drew up a chair beside my wheelchair. “What was all that about?”
    â€œI wish I had time to explain,” I said, “but I need to go to sleep as fast as possible.”
    â€œTyce?”
    â€œCan you trust me on this? I need to sit here with my eyes closed. Turn my wheelchair around so no one can see my face. Make sure nobody comes by and disturbs me. That’s all I ask.”
    â€œFor how long?”
    â€œUntil I wake up,” I said. “Please?”
    Mom sighed. “This is so strange.”
    â€œSo is letting all those people die.”
    Without a word, she turned me away from the other people in the buggy. My view was of the back side of the hill. Rock and sand in all colors of brown and red and black.
    I closed my eyes and waited in the wired jumpsuit I was still wearing from when I left the dome. I hoped that someone at the dome had heard my short message. I hoped that Rawling would understand what I meant. I hoped that very soon, in the darkness of my mind, I would fall off the edge of a high, invisible cliff into a deep, invisible hole.

    â€œTyce?”
    â€œTook you long enough,” I said to Rawling.
    I tilted my video head and peered into his face. His skin was gray, and he was sweating badly. I clicked around the room—slowly, to keep from getting dizzy—with my other three video lenses to see if anyone else was with us.
    â€œSomeone heard your broadcast and called me in my minidome,” he said. “I tried to radio the platform buggy, but I didn’t get an answer. If you wanted me to turn on the robot, why not say so instead of making me figure it out?”
    â€œBecause,” I answered, spinning my robot wheels back and forth, warming up, “then Director Steven would have known how I intended to talk to you. And he would have stopped me.”
    Rawling wiped his face. His jumpsuit was blotched with sweat. “You guys are supposed to be dead.”
    â€œLong story.” I looked around the lab and found the tools I needed. I handed them to Rawling. “I will tell you after. But we need to get to the solar panels.”
    â€œSure,” he said, “but I don’t feel so good. Maybe we can get someone else to help you.”
    I reached across and pinched his shinbone with my titanium fingers.
    â€œOuch!” Rawling said, shocked.
    â€œYou have got to stay awake. The lack of oxygen is starting to get to you.”
    â€œLack of oxygen? But—”
    â€œYou do not have much time. Follow me.” I wheeled to the door of the lab. I tried twisting the knob with my fingers. I twisted too hard. It fell off in my hand. “Oops. I do not know my own strength.”
    I wheeled back, picked up a chair with both hands, and held it in front of me. I crashed into the door with it. The door popped open. Checking behind me with my rear lens, I made sure Rawling was following me. He staggered slightly as he tried to keep up.
    â€œIt is the wheels of the solar panels,” I explained quickly. “The panels work fine. But if the railing wheels are stuck even slightly, the panels cannot track the sun’s movement as they slide along the roof of the dome. They do not have the right angle to catch enough sunlight to produce power.”
    I noticed no one was walking around the dome. “Where is everybody?” I asked.
    â€œI think sleeping,” he said. “Which is what I want to do.”
    Continuing forward, I reached back with one arm. I grabbed Rawling’s hand.
    â€œOuch,” he said again.
    I