The Gym

by B. P. Kasik

  “It was just a cheap watch, such a strange thing to steal. But stolen it was.”

  “Huh.”

  “And I could have sworn I saw one of the employees wearing it.”

  “Weird.”

  “I can’t prove it, though, so what can I say?”

  Jerry leaned forward. “Did they give you any crap about opening your locker?”

  “No, not at all. Walked me right back and opened it.”

  “Huh. They got weird on me.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Yeah. The manager or whoever apologized and I think the rude worker got fired. But it was definitely...weird.”

  Jerry got up from the machine and they stretched together.

  They headed over the bridge between the workout area and the stairs and noticed a personal training session going on over in the free weight section.

  The screaming made the training session hard to miss.

  The personal trainer was verbally assaulting a scrawny-looking guy attempting bench presses. He was struggling to lift 90 pounds, including the weight of the bar.

  “Get that weight up!” shouted the trainer. “Be a man! Be a man! NO BABIES ALLOWED IN THE GYM!”

  It didn’t seem to the help. The thin man continued to struggle, the weight remaining just a couple inches off his chest. He finally gave up and let the bar fall to the left, where it hit the ground with a thud.

  “Poor guy,” Ben said.

  “Yeah, what an awful trainer,” said Jerry.

  The trainer looked over at them and smiled as if he’d heard every word from across the room.

  The trainer pointed to each of them and clearly mouthed, “You stay healthy!”

  Jerry shook his head as they headed for the elevator. “What a creep.”

  After the door closed, they didn’t see the trainer’s next act: openly slapping the thin man in the face.

  Chapter 9

  Later that night, another new Gym employee did the post-closing cleaning work.

  She vacuumed the carpets throughout the first floor and buffed the floors on the second level. The lobby and workout space looked pristine by the time she was done.

  She was grateful for the work, as she wasn’t there legally. Her paperwork was minimal to nonexistent. And she hadn’t understood everything they’d said during the interview, just enough to get an impression and nod where needed. But the Gym folks didn’t mind. They saw that she had cleaning experience and that was all that mattered.

  And this was her first cleaning job for a major corporation. She’d only done off-the-books work for local businesses and private schools before. This felt like a real opportunity for her. They paid her better than any job she’d ever had and she understood that if she did well, she could relocate to any Gym nationwide. She’d love to move further south so that she could live closer to the rest of her family in Florida. They were all too afraid to come further north.

  She was the trailblazer for the family. As soon as they made it safely to Florida’s shores in 2008, she’d gotten to work, wherever work could be found.

  It took her from job to job and she’d finally ended up at The Gym.

  And this was the strangest job she’d ever had.

  The supervisor was wildly unpredictable—he went from kind and understanding to violently angry in a matter of seconds. She never knew if she was doing a good job or if they were happy with her work because on the rare instances that she saw her supervisor, he never actually addressed her work, just muttered things about her weight. She was pretty sure he wanted her to lose a few pounds. Which was silly, since she did all her cleaning after hours. No clients saw her while she worked, so how did it matter?

  She finished the last of her vacuuming and dusting work and then wrapped the cord around the vacuum cleaner before taking it to the closet by the front desk.

  She noticed a couple boxes in there marked “Lipo Services.” Which puzzled her, as she knew that “Lips” was the word for the things on your mouth, but she’d never heard the word “Lipo.”

  Also unusual—the boxes appeared to be leaking. A dark pink fluid spread around the base.

  She winced at the realization that she’d probably get blamed for that if she didn’t clean it. So she grabbed the APC and paper towels and started wiping up the mess. But the fluid was leaking from the boxes too rapidly to be cleaned up completely.

  What?

  She’d been warned not to explore areas of the Gym that she wasn’t authorized to clean—the fourth floor was a very big no-no area—but surely they wouldn’t care if she opened the “Lipo Services” box. She needed to sort out whatever was making this mess.

  So she leaned forward and opened the top box.

  And stared into it.

  She wasn’t sure what it was. The texture was moist and gelatinous, but before she could make the connection with the words on the box, she saw a thick-whiskered black rat emerge from the box’s substance. And then another. And another.

  She screamed and started to back away, but slipped in the chunky pink puddle, kicking the box off the top and over on its side as she fell.

  The substance inside flew out and covered her, along with the creatures that were feeding on it.

  And before she could scurry away, the oversized rats blanketed her, weighing her down and biting away.

  The creatures discovered that this new thing tasted even better than the stuff in the box.

  Chapter 10

  Across town, the scrawny-looking guy who had been struggling with the bench press earlier in the day was pacing.

  His personal trainer had physically abused him.

  He loved the Gym. Loved it. Every time he entered the place, he felt enchanted and carried away to a whole new world of fitness and health.

  But whenever he came home, he started having serious doubts about it. Parts of the experience there made no sense.

  Like, why did the workout classes all last two hours? People seemed to leave the classes completely exhausted, dehydrated, and broken. But they kept going back.

  And why was the sauna mixed-gender? It was the biggest sauna room he’d ever seen, and it was placed directly between the male and female locker rooms. Either room could access it. That seemed wrong.

  Also, how did so many of the Gym clients manage to get perfect physiques within two weeks? Their results seemed unnatural.

  None of this mattered when he was in the Gym, but late at night, he wondered. These things accumulated.

  And getting slapped repeatedly by his personal trainer today was the last straw. He felt humiliated. He tried so hard to lift and get stronger, but it was never enough. And it seemed wrong that his trainer struck him. Especially in front of people.

  He stopped pacing and walked over to his kitchen to get a diet cola.

  He opened up his fridge and saw that it was empty.

  “What the—”

  And then the fridge door was slammed shut.

  He looked to his left and saw his personal trainer, looking even larger than usual in his cramped little kitchen. He filled up the room.

  “Were you just trying to drink a diet soda?” the trainer shouted.

  “How did you get…? What are you—”

  “Look at you! You are skin and bones! That’s why we can’t build any bulk on your frame. You’re filling up your system with zero-calorie liquids. You need to build muscle. You need to build mass!”

  “I didn’t, I—”

  “I am your personal trainer! And that puts me in charge of your personal and physical development! That health and diet food that was polluting your fridge and cabinets? Gone! You’re on a new food and drink regimen, as of right now.”

  He didn’t even try to respond. The trainer had invaded his home. He had no idea how far this psycho would go from here.

  “I am on your ass. Day and night. If I can’t bulk you up, I am a failure. And I will not abide failure. Sit down!”

  He sat. Immediately.

  The tr
ainer opened his bag and brought out an oversized mason jar with thick multi-colored fluid inside. He unscrewed the top.

  “Special energy blend, developed especially for you. Open your mouth.”

  He fought tears. “Please. I don’t—”

  “Did I give you permission to speak, maggot? You open your mouth or I’ll tear a hole in your cheek!”

  He opened his mouth wide. The trainer grabbed his head and held it backward, then starting pouring the jar into his mouth. The taste was unbearable. A mix of guarana, taurine, fruit, vegetables, flaxseed, soy, olive oil, and some kind of medicinal flavor. His gag reflex was overpowering.

  The trainer stopped pouring. “You take a deep breath right now. If you puke any of this up, I will tear your stomach open and pour it in there direct!”

  He shook with fear and nodded. He took three deep breaths and the trainer yanked his head back again and kept pouring.

  After what felt like an eternity, he finished swallowing the protein stew.

  His stomach was filled to bursting. He hadn’t consumed that much food in years. Not since he’d been overweight back in high school. He’d been struggling to stay thin ever since. He was so sick of the fat jokes and so afraid of social judgment, he’d overcorrected and undernourished himself. He saw that now.

  It hit him with the force of a revelation as he looked at the trainer.

  The trainer looked back at him and he swore there was warmth in his eyes. He felt a connection.

  But it only lasted a moment.

  Because then the trainer pulled something else out of his bag. It was another gallon-sized jar filled with the same sludge he’d just been force-fed.

  The trainer’s smile was wide and infectious.

  “Open wide, wimp. Time for more nourishment!”

  Chapter 11

  Jerry got out of his car at the Klockner Rehab Center. He loved his handicapped parking pass. It almost always guaranteed him a spot and he never had to walk more than 20 feet to get anywhere.

  Entering the facility, he signed in and walked in the main room. It was oddly empty. He approached his PT specialist and smiled.

  “Morning, Tasha!”

  “Hey, Jerry.”

  “You think you can make room for me?”

  “Very funny.”

  “But seriously. Things seem dead here. What’s going on?”

  Tasha shrugged. “The past few weeks it’s been a ghost town.”

  Jerry did some mental calculations. “Since the Gym opened, huh?”

  “Do you go to the Gym?”

  Jerry nodded. “Yeah, I’m doing the free trial.”

  Tasha shook her head. “That place…”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “They’re doing something to people. I’m surprised to see you acting so chipper and normal, as a matter of fact.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Tasha looked around, as if she was worried someone would hear them. There was only one other person there, one of the PT workers adjusting the weights on the leg press. “Have you seen anything weird happen over there?”

  Jerry nodded. “They got weird with me when my locker jammed. And their personal trainer is pretty intense. The place is ridiculously fancy. But it’s nice overall.”

  Tasha looked off to the window. “They offer physical therapy. And they don’t require copays. They cut some kind of deal with the insurance company to offer them for free.”

  Jerry’s financial radar dinged. He was paying $20 for every PT visit there. I could be getting these things for free?

  Tasha looked at him. “I saw that. You want to leave us now, too.”

  “Hey, I didn’t say that!”

  Tasha laughed. “We’ve been getting less and less business over the month. If it keeps going down—heck, if it doesn’t go back up—we’re gonna have to close down in a month or two.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. A space this large? Target painted on its back if it doesn’t produce enough revenue. It’s owned by the University, so they’ll probably turn it into a medical collaborative classroom space or something.”

  “I didn’t think colleges were run like businesses.”

  “The academic parts aren’t. The medical side—that’s another story.”

  “Oh. And what will you do, if worse comes to worse, and you close?”

  Tasha laughed. “Is the Gym hiring?”

  Jerry laughed, uneasily.

  They proceeded to go through his normal ankle and leg stress-test and workout routine. Tasha assessed his range of motion and gave him pointers. At the end of the visit, she gave him a sheet with a list of four new leg stretches and exercises that he needed to do every morning and night, in addition to any cardio he decided to do at the Gym.

  He felt like a student overwhelmed with homework and he told her so.

  “You don’t have to do any of this, Jerry.”

  “I don’t?”

  “No. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But it will slow your healing if you slack off.”

  Jerry laughed. “You’re right, I know. I’ll be good.”

  “You do that.”

  Tasha walked him over to the computer where they could schedule his next visit.

  Some people went weekly, or even multiple times a week. But Jerry was trying to save money, so he made it for a month from that day.

  Tasha printed him up a confirmation. “We’ll see you then, if we’re still here!”

  Jerry laughed. Tasha didn’t.

  On the drive home, Jerry noticed Gym shirts peppering the city.

  And every last one of the people wearing them had a perfect physique. The women all had perfect figures, zero percent body fat.

  And every last man had muscles that threatened to tear their shirt open if they flexed.

  Chapter 12

  Later that night, when the Gym’s surrounding neighborhood slept soundly, blanketed by the warmth of its vivid orange sign, a subterranean sound emerged.

  The streets shook gently as the sewers vibrated and a primal gust of air emerged from every gutter and manhole.

  The homeless would have described it as a small earthquake, but there were no homeless left in the area. They’d all gone mad and been locked away or run away from the city, fearful of their own mind.

  The smell, sound, and vibration moved along steadily, closer and closer to the Gym. And then it stopped.

  And settled.

  Chapter 13

  Jerry woke up and consulted his PT sheet and did all his new exercises. He treated himself to some pancakes, then went over to the Gym to do his proper workout.

  It passed uneventfully. No antics from the personal trainer or other employees. In fact, he’d never seen the Gym so empty.

  After finishing his time on the exercise bike, he took the elevator downstairs.

  There were no employees present at the snack bar or front desk as he walked through the lobby, but that wasn’t too unusual. They were probably just restocking or doing back-office work or something.

  He found the locker room was empty, as well.

  So he stripped and limped into the shower, leaving his towel hanging outside.

  He turned on the water and it was scalding hot. He took a step back and turned the knob all the way left. He kept checking, but it was taking forever for it to cool down.

  It finally did, and he got under the water and let it wash over him. He soaked every inch of his body, an old OCD ritual that he always had to do before he could soap or shampoo himself.

  He heard footsteps outside the shower. That reassured him. He felt odd showering alone.

  Once he was drenched, he reached for the liquid shampoo dispenser.

  He started to push down on it.

  “Hey, Jerry!”

  He jerked his hands back.

  And leaned out of the shower and around the curtain. It was Ben.

  “What, man?”

  “Get out here!”

  “I h
aven’t finished my shower!”

  “Screw your shower, you gotta see this!”

  Jerry grumbled, turned off the water, and got out, drying himself off.

  Back in the shower, a drop of liquid shampoo fell from the dispenser and sizzled on the tile floor.

  Jerry, freshly-clothed but unshowered, followed Ben outside.

  There was a crowd gathered.

  Two crowds, actually. At opposite sides of the street.

  “What’s going on here?” asked Jerry.

  Ben pointed to one crowd. “Hit and run over there.” And then he pointed to the other group. “And savage attack over there.”

  Jerry looked left and right and left again. “What...what?”

  Ben started whispering. “Best I can make out, some local crazy attacked and killed some poor guy who was just walking down the street. The guy just snapped. And at almost the exact moment, someone struck and killed a random jogger down the street.”

  “This happened at the same time? Two random attacks?”

  “Two attacks? I didn’t say that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Ben looked uneasy. “The hit-and-run could be a coincidence. Or maybe the driver got distracted by the sight of the guy getting attacked on the sidewalk and hit the jogger by accident.”

  “You really believe that?”

  Ben shrugged. “I don’t know. Nobody knows. But this is nuts, right? Happened right on your street!”

  Jerry looked at the row of police cars parked on the curb in front of his house. He saw one of the patrol cars had the suspect in the back seat. Jerry recognized his face. He’d lived on the same street as him for months. Years. And he didn’t know his name.

  Just an anonymous, somewhat familiar face, covered in blood. With empty, hollowed-out eyes.

  Would this be even worse if I did know him?

  Jerry looked back over to the other scene of carnage. “Did anyone get a look at the driver?”

  “No. They were all looking in the other direction.”

  Jerry shook his head. “Someone who was just… jogging, minding her own business.”

  The personal trainer was out in the crowd. He was getting harder to spot in a crowd, as the male Gym clientele started to look more and more like him.