The Black: Arrival

by Paul E. Cooley

  “Yeah,” Glaze said. “But we shouldn’t use the elevator.”

  Dugger sighed. “We don’t have security keys to get through the fire stairs.”

  The other CDC man shook his head. “Bullshit. We can get one from the security guard.”

  “Yeah,” Dugger said and stabbed the up button, “but I ain’t walking up the stairs in this getup unless forced.”

  “Lazy bastard,” Glaze said.

  Dugger grinned. “That’s fat lazy bastard to you. Now get those guys in here and meet me on the second floor. I want to sweep this place before the sun comes up.”

  “Right,” Glaze said. “Because you have plans.”

  “Hey, now,” Dugger said. “I always plan a little pickle tickle for the wife in the morning.”

  “Pickle tickle,” Glaze echoed. “See you upstairs.”

  The elevator dinged. “That you will,” Dugger said. When the doors opened, he walked inside, and pressed the button marked “2.” He waved at Glaze as the doors closed. The radio in his helmet belched a stream of static. He winced. Hoyt was probably trying to get a status report. Dugger grinned. The status was they were going to get the kid, get the rest of the folks out of here, and then he could go back to sleep.

  The elevator dinged. Dugger watched the doors slide open. His grin faded. “What the—”

  *****

  A smell. Her nose wrinkled and she snorted herself awake. Maeve opened her eyes and regarded the dark office. The hallway lights were off. With the office blinds closed, there was no ambient light filtering in from outside. The game console’s single, green power light glowed like a cat’s eye in the darkness. Rain touched the windows; gusts of wind rattled them. She blinked a few times and then sat up.

  The smell. It was a combination of cooking meat and something rotten that had been in the sun too long. With a yawn, she reached behind her and clicked on the light.

  The strong halogen lamp exploded with brightness. She shut her eyes against the glare, and then slowly opened them. The table was still clogged with drink cans, an empty coffee mug, and the wrappers from candy bars. She had to clean that up before her mom showed up. And where was she anyway?

  And what the hell was that smell? She yawned and gathered up the cans and wrappers. She glanced at the coffee mug, decided it was too much to hold, and left it on the table. If Mom was still in the lab, she couldn’t call, but she could text. Maeve hit the power button on her phone. The display was blank sans the weather alert in the notifications. Oh well. She’d see Mom soon enough.

  Maeve walked to the office threshold and stopped. The smell was stronger. And there was a sound, something she barely made out against the central air’s hum. Darkness. She hated it. She always had. Despite the wan rectangle of light that streamed into the hallway from the office, it was too damned dark. She took a deep breath and walked into the hallway.

  An overhead fluorescent immediately came on. Well, she thought, at least the motion sensors still worked. The smell. Jesus, did something go bad in the break room? Was there a power outage? She hadn’t been asleep long enough for that to happen.

  With her hands full of wrappers and cans, each step was a trick in holding on to it all. With every few steps, another set of lights streamed on. Before she rounded the corner, the lights came on in the adjoining hallway. A shadow appeared on the wall. Maeve’s brows furrowed. “Hello?” Her voice echoed in the empty hall. The shadow disappeared, but the lights remained.

  Heart thumping in her chest, the back of her neck crawling with goose flesh, she walked to the corner and peered around. An empty hallway stared back at her, but the stench was much more palpable. Her gorge rose in the back of her throat. She let out an acidic burp and turned the corner.

  The hall was still empty, but something was…wrong. The smell was stronger as she approached the break room. It was definitely coming from there. “Hello?” she called again. No answer.

  Maeve reached the break room and looked in. The lights came on in the room. The tile floor shined as though it was freshly mopped. In fact, it was impossibly clean. Even the stains were gone. She dropped the aluminum cans in the recycle bin and threw away the wrappers. And that’s when her sleep-hazed mind made sense of the table and chairs. The plastic was stripped off. The seat backs, once vinyl, had disappeared. The table was bare metal, shining, and spotless.

  Something sizzled. Maeve scanned the room. The counters were clean, but not sparkling clean. Darren had done a good job cleaning up after dinner, but he sure as hell didn’t mop the goddamned floor. And the table? The chairs? Who would do that?

  The bacon sizzle was louder, the smell stronger. She retched, but didn’t toss dinner. Something was burning. And it wasn’t just meat. Plastic. Vinyl. Rubber. And it was behind her.

  Maeve slowly turned. The sheetrock in the walls was dissolving. Her eyes slowly rose upward. Wisps of smoke escaped through the gaps in the metal supports. She stepped backward.

  One of the ceiling tiles was gone. Just…gone. A thin, black stalk slowly descended through the hole. A serpent’s black eye popped forth from its end. It blinked at her.

  Maeve screamed and ran through the other side of the break room. Behind her, she heard the smash and crash of something large falling to the tile floor. She turned the corner and pelted down the hallway. With every hurried step, another fluorescent light popped on.

  The sizzling sound rose in volume and something’s heavy steps pounded into the floor. Maeve reached the next corner and turned left. Something crashed into the wall. Maeve spun around, panting from the run. A squat, black creature with five legs, and three arms twirled away from the burned wood and sheetrock. It made no sound other than the sizzling of its feet dissolving the carpet. The thing’s eyestalks pointed at her and a large maw appeared in the center of its body. A hooked tentacle shot out in her direction.

  Maeve screamed and ran. Heart thumping in her ears, she barely heard the sound of sheetrock cracking and burning as the thing chased her, its tentacles smashing into the walls. The elevator bank dinged, but she didn’t even hear it. She nearly lost her balance when the carpet switched to tile in front of the elevator. Her left sneaker’s toe hit the transition lip. Maeve stumbled, but managed to keep her feet. Within a second, she was past the bank when one of the doors opened.

  “What the—” a muffled voice yelled.

  Maeve turned around. A moon-suited figure had walked halfway out the door when it saw the monstrosity. The thing didn’t turn. Instead, its tentacled arms seemed to skate across its surface. The mouth too. The hooked appendages shot forward and ripped through the fabric. A new smell, cooking flesh, added to the olfactory assault.

  The man screamed. A mixture of smoke and steam erupted from the torn suit. The man’s heavily gloved hands clutched at his ruined chest. One of the thing’s appendages rose to the man’s shoulder. It hesitated in the air and then whistled as it ripped sideways. The hook smashed into the man’s head just behind the temple.

  A rotten melon squelch echoed in the hallway. The top half of the man’s head flew to the ground. Blood, brains, and bone scattered across the tile floor. The figure sagged and then fell forward. Two tentacles reached behind and dragged him into the creature’s massive maw.

  The sizzling of frying meat stung her ears. Smoke billowed from the thing’s mouth as the figure slowly disappeared inside. Maeve, mouth open, eyes wide, turned and ran.

  She made it to the other hallway, swiveled her head, and saw the bright crimson glow of the exit sign. Barely keeping her balance, she bounced off the opposite wall and sprinted toward the fire door. A ripping sound followed her, but she didn’t turn around. She hit the fire door’s push bar. The heavy steel and glass fire door resisted her at first, but then slowly swung open. The ripping sound increased in volume. Whatever it was, it was closer. Maeve screamed and forced the door wide enough to slink through. She turned and shut it behind her.

  Something crashed into the door. The stairwell echoed with the so
und. Maeve pressed her hands against the steel, hoping against hope the creature couldn’t open it. Panting, her eyes filled with starlight, she looked through the glass. There was nothing but impenetrable darkness on the other side of the door. But there was nothing dead about it. It rippled against the glass. Something knocked against the door’s bottom half. The door shuddered, but didn’t budge.

  The darkness retreated. When the thing was a few meters away from the door, Maeve froze. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest. It was larger. It barely fit in the hallway. Extra legs jutted out from its base. Two eyestalks waved in the air. Two more stared directly at her. Its hook-ended appendages dragged across the sheetrock walls. She knew the hallway was filled with that sizzling sound.

  “Miss?”

  She jumped and whirled. Another man in a moon-suit stood a few steps down from the landing. His heavy hands clutched at the bannister.

  “Are you okay?” he said in a muffled voice.

  Maeve nearly knocked him over when she grabbed him around the waist and started to cry.

  *****

  In the past several hours, he’d been called by the CDC, discovered Marie was mostly likely going to die, and PPE was up shit creek without a paddle. Their oil wasn’t going to get analyzed and their rig, for all he knew, was now filled with infected people.

  Because Simpson, PPE Vice President, was a good friend of his, Mike had called him shortly after he told Kate and Neil to cease work and prepare for quarantine. Simpson hadn’t exactly been thrilled.

  “The fuck do you mean you’ve been quarantined?”

  Mike had sighed. “A Dr. Hutchins from the CDC called me. Told me one of my employees was on death’s door and they were worried that whatever she caught, she caught from here. Also, your oil from Leaguer is under suspicion. Or at least the barrel is.”

  “How is that possible?” Simpson’s voice bellowed into the phone. “This has to be some trick. The Saudis are trying to sabotage M2. They must have—”

  “Simpson? Calm down.” Mike took a deep breath. “I didn’t believe it either. I called the CDC in Atlanta. They verified his identity and put me right through to him. It’s for real.”

  Simpson snorted. “Goddammit. Look, if that was the case, wouldn’t Leaguer be infected? I mean, there’s no way they’d have been able to keep themselves away from it. Shit, cleaning out the damned mud traps could expose them, let alone the drilling and filling the barrel. And the engineering team? Calhoun’s team were the ones running the damned tests!”

  Mike tried not to sigh. He failed. “I don’t know how, Simpson. I only know what they told me.”

  “Goddammit. You know how far behind this puts us?”

  The relative numbness he’d felt suddenly departed. The idea Marie might not ever work again at HAL bounced around in his head. A wave of anger replaced the vacuous feeling of incredulity. “I don’t give a fuck about your oil,” Mike growled into the phone. “In case you forgot, one of my employees might be dead even as we speak.”

  There was a long pause after Simpson’s deep intake of breath. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, and apologetic. “Right. Sorry. I should tell my people to stop drilling until we figure this out.”

  Mike nodded to himself. “Yes, you should. If you don’t, the feds might.”

  “Goddammit,” Simpson said. “Okay. Mike? Keep me updated. And I’m sorry this happened. If we track it back to the shipping company, I’ll have someone’s ass.”

  “As will I,” Mike had replied.

  Their goodbyes had been cordial, but strained. The exhaustion of the night had finally hit him. The sun was just a few hours away from gracing the horizon. Not like they’d be able to tell with all the cloud cover and the storm pounding the building.

  Mike had dozed off when the phone rang again. He opened his eyes and stared at the caller-id strip. “BIO-LAB” it said. Instantly awake, he reached out and took the receiver. “Beaudry. What’s up, Neil?”

  “It’s Kate.”

  “Sorry, Kate,” Mike chuckled. “I— Wait, what are you doing in the bio-lab? CDC told you guys to stay in your lab.”

  She sighed. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. We have, um, a little issue. Actually, fuck that. We have a serious problem, Mike. We need everyone in the two buildings to meet in the foyer of building 1.”

  Mike stared at the receiver in his hands and then put it back to his ear. “What?”

  “Don’t ask why. Just do it. The CDC is here and they want everyone in the foyer.”

  “Okay,” Mike said. “I’m pretty sure Chuckles is the only one in the new building. Unless one of the security folks is strolling around.”

  “Round them up and get them down here. Oh, do you have a halogen flashlight?”

  Mike opened his mouth and then closed it. “What?”

  “Do you have a halogen flashlight?”

  “Um, I don’t know. I might.”

  Kate’s voice turned cold. “Listen to me very carefully, Mike. You’re not going to believe me. And I don’t care. But something got out of chem-lab. And—”

  “Something?”

  “Yes. Shut up and listen! It doesn’t like natural light. Or anything close to it.”

  He frowned. “Are you high?”

  “I’m not fucking kidding!” she screamed into the phone. “Just…Just find a halogen light if you can. Maybe Chuckles has one or knows where some are. Check with him. Keep them handy. And if you hear a sizzling sound? Run from it. Okay?”

  “Um, okay. Kate, what the hell is going on?”

  “Just do what I told you, okay? We’ll see you down in the foyer as soon as you get here.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be safe, Mike.”

  “You too, Kate.”

  He hung up the phone and stared at it. Something escaped from chem-lab? This had to be a joke. No. She wouldn’t do that. Jay? Hell yes. Bill? Absolutely. But Kate? No.

  The office lamp was a halogen. The amount of heat and light the thing produced was why it was in the far corner of the room. He grinned. If…well, if whatever it was she was afraid of came in here, it was in for a shock. But it wasn’t like he could carry the damned lamp around with him.

  The server room had strong lighting. Might be a good place to hole up if… “This is stupid,” he said to the empty room.

  Mike rose from his chair, stretched, and walked toward the door. He stopped. Chuckles.

  He picked up the phone and dialed the NOC. The phone rang and rang. Mike frowned and then sighed. Chuckles must be out of NOC1 and traipsing around the new NOC. He hung up the phone. He’d at least have to check and see if the surly tech was in the new server room. That meant going to the second floor. Oh well, he was heading there anyway.

  Rounding up all the staff was easy. Darren was at the hospital, Marie was…at the hospital, and all that remained were Chuckles, Jakob the security guard, and himself.

  Mike stood from his desk and looked at the heavy wooden door leading to the reception area. Normally, Darren would be out there. He wished Darren was there now. Mike might be the CEO, but without Darren, he was barely functional. Besides, Darren would know where the goddamned flashlights were.

  He reached into his office drawer and pulled out a Glock. The 40 caliber would stop whatever the hell had “escaped” the lab. He checked the magazine, racked the slide to put one in the throat, and jammed it into his waistband.

  “Ok,” he said as he opened the door, “let’s do this.” By the time he got to the elevator, he was too far away to hear the phone ringing.

  *****

  This isn’t happening, was what kept echoing in his mind. He didn’t know how far he’d run or in what direction. Soaked to the bone, shivering, and terrified, Darren was close to passing out.

  His feet struck the pavement grinding the glass in his heels deeper and deeper. The heavy socks he’d worn in the hospital were little protection against the litter in the gutters and on the street. The only upside was he was so cold, he di
dn’t even notice the pain.

  With the hospital far behind him, he slowly dropped from an awkward run into a stumbling walk. He put his arms around himself. The shoulder was lined with parked cars. Darren bumped into the side of one and stopped. He leaned his lithe body against the cold metal. He couldn’t go any further. Just couldn’t.

  “Hey!” a voice called.

  Darren barely heard it over the sound of the wind and the pattering of the rain against the cars and pavement. “Help me?” His voice was a nearly inaudible croak.

  A strong hand touched his shoulder. “You okay, buddy?”

  Darren shuffled as he turned to look at the man. Dressed in a trench coat hanging down to his knees, umbrella extended to cover his exquisitely coifed bedhead, a tall, barrel-chested man stared at him.

  “You need to get out of the rain, man. You’re gonna freeze.”

  Darren’s teeth chattered so hard he could barely speak. “Need phone.” The two words dropped in jittery syllables.

  The man nodded. “Okay, buddy.” The man moved the umbrella so it covered the two of them. He turned Darren toward the sidewalk and gently marched him onto the pavement.

  Darren didn’t remember much else until he found himself wrapped in a blanket and on a leather couch. His soaking wet gown and bloody hospital socks were puddled on the floor. He was naked and a steaming cup of something was on the end-table next to the couch.

  The man stood a few feet away. His trench was gone and he wore a red-checked house-coat. His face turned into an uneasy grin. “What’s your name?”

  “Darren.”

  “I’m Richard.” He pointed at Darren. “Do I need to call the police?”

  Darren shivered beneath the blanket. His feet were starting to burn. He didn’t know shit about frostbite, but he thought he might have it. Either that or his heels were screaming because he had two tons of glass in them. “Need to call my office. Then need to call 9-1-1.”

  Richard frowned and pulled a cell phone from his pocket. “What’s going on, Darren?”

  Everything hurt. He just wanted to sleep. But he had to call Mike. The rest of the lab was in big trouble. “The end of the world,” Darren said.