I approach the double doors of the storage section of the facility. I peer through one of the clear plastic windows molded inside the door. It’s black as night. The darkness has consumed the space. My eyes shift from left to right, struggling to pierce the veil that cloaks room.
My left-hand digs into the back pocket of my jeans and removes my phone. I switch on the flashlight. I expel a deep sigh of air.
I’m starting to hate this place. The unsettling sensation that eyes maybe watching me from the ether sends a shiver of fear through my body. That each dark corner of this facility is a door way to hell itself.
I press my forearm against the cool, rigid texture of the door, and push softly. The hinges squeak. The angst residing within me forces me to listen for a reaction. There is none. I push a bit further, and thread my frame through the narrow opening.
The phone’s brightness sweeps over the space. The light is my weapon against the darkness. It brings to life rows of shelves that run horizontal to my position. Shadows morph and move over the steel fixtures that are sparsely stocked with various can goods and other non-perishable items.
The fans, mounted on the walls to my right and toward the ceiling, whir listlessly as they slow to a stop.
I narrow my eyes, and scan for any blankets that might remain. I spy none from where I stand. Although bright, the phone’s light only goes so far.
Crap.
The light switch is eluding me. Despite how much I want to erase the darkness, I don’t want to waste any more time than needed in here. I just want to get it done and over with.
I venture further into the maze of shelves. The silence is deafening. Each step I take sounds like it is amplified ten times over. I cringe, hoping it isn’t as loud as I think it is.
As much as my anxiety wants to conjure up a demon waiting for me within the void of darkness, the rational part of my brain tells me to calm down. I heed its advice.
Rack after rack, the light washes over the shelves, until I catch sight of the green folded fabric. Set off to my right, and toward the corner of the room, a short stack of blankets resides on the next aisle over.
Finally.
I carry on to the next row and enter the corridor of steel that surrounds me on both sides. It’s tight and cramped, without much room to maneuver in. My heart pounds. Palms gush with sweat. Just grab and go. That’s what I mutter to myself.
As I near the blankets, I spy a tiny gap between the wall and the racks. There isn’t much space, but enough for a person to pass through.
I lay hands on the rigid green woven fabric. A strange noise stirs.
Grunting.
Heavy breathing.
It stops me cold. I move the phone down, and press the light against my pants. The darkness envelopes me, erasing the shreds of visual context.
I turn my head slightly to the right, and listen intently. It is hard to tell if my mind is hearing things or not. There is no more noise. It has grown silent.
I listen for a minute more before raising the phone back up. The light reveals a man dressed in dark blue coveralls standing in a void of darkness beyond the racks.
Shock steals my voice. I want to scream, but can’t. Fear has robbed me of that.
He stands rigid, with both hands clenched tightly by his sides. Blood covers the front of his suit as his bloodshot eyes look in my direction. He has a chunk of skin missing from the right side of his neck. His sunken face tilts slightly to the left as his teeth start to chatter.
My legs begin to slowly move backwards down the constricted aisle. He grunts harder, and growls as he narrows his eyes. He starts advancing towards me.
Veins populate the surface of his pale face. His hands tremble wildly, fingers twitching at the nothingness that is before him. He slams his arm against the rack repeatedly.
I back pedal down the aisle. He gives pursuit. I am scared, frightened to a degree that I have never been before. My thoughts are fractured, diced up in bits of incoherent decisions.
His heavy footsteps are right on top of me. The raging grunts that part his bloody lips whisper in my ears.
I hit the opening between the rows of shelving, and bolt to the right. Before I realize my poor decision, it is too late. I have gone the wrong way. The exit to the storage room is actually to my left. My only salvation now is the room beyond the door directly in front of me.
Light bounces up and down the walls as I make for the room. The man is hot on my heels. He wails, the sound of running footsteps closing the distance between us. My free hand stretches out for the silver doorknob. I pray it is unlocked. My fingers wrap about the cold steel, and turn. Fortunately, it is.
I swing open the door and dash inside. I throw it closed just as he reaches for me. It shakes under the violent protest of the deranged man. His fists hammer. The doorknob jiggles and twists. I press my mass against the door.
Each blow vibrates through the dense wood. I glance up through the frosted window, and shine the light. His face is contorted, mouth ajar as he continually beats at the door with malevolent eyes. The man shows no signs of stopping his assault. I have to figure out my next move if I hope to survive.
I flip over my phone, and turn on the screen. No signal. Great. I turn about, and lean against the trembling door. I hold the light up, and take stock of where I am.
The space is small and filled with various tools and other equipment. The smell of grease permeates the room. My nose crinkles from the stench. I franticly search for anything I can use as a weapon. Anything to allow me to defend myself.
I push and move the wrenches, screwdrivers, and a small ball ping hammer about. Each blow against the door sends a shockwave of fear coursing through my body. It is hard to concentrate. I struggle to focus, and formulate a plan.
The wood frame of the door starts to give way to his bulk. My breathing escalates. Panic swallows me whole. If I don’t move fast, I’ll be at his mercy.
My hand grazes over something thick and dense. The light focuses, and I narrow my gaze on what I have found. A crowbar. I can’t afford for him to gain entry to the room. I’d surely perish. I have to act now.
A plan starts to gel through the terror that is flooding my brain. Actually, it is more of a last-ditch effort to save my life.
I retrieve the crowbar from the pile of tools, and turn my attention back to the door. The phone drops as my fingers wrap around the solid piece of steel.
The light illuminates the small space in an eerie luminescence as I spew a breath of tension.
Wood splinters.
The door gives way.
He rushes in.
His face is framed in a portrait of pure rage.
Without further thought, I act.
Wielding the crowbar, I swing with all my might. The bent end connects with the side of his head. His skull crunches and crackles. The impact knocks him off balance, and into the door.
Dazed for only a moment, he twists his head up, and looks at me. I swing again.
A wail escapes his bloody lips as he stumbles out of the storage closet, struggling to keep his feet under him. He collapses to the ground. No words are spoken, just grunts and incoherent ramblings.
The light strains to reach out into the bleakness. Only the man’s silhouette can be seen. My eyes adjust some to the darkness. I watch in disbelief as he starts to get back up. Two blows to the head should’ve put him down, but it hasn’t.
He reaches for me from the flat of his ass. His fingers tickle the air as he growls through clenched teeth. He’s blocking my path to escape from the storage room. He isn’t going to stop until I’m dead.
I take the pointed end, and jam it into the middle of his forehead. I push with all my might, burrowing the steel tip in as far as it will go.
A final grunt escapes his mouth as his lifeless hands drop to the floor.
He’s dead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Taking a man’s life. I’ve never done that before. Regardless if it was in self-defense
or not, it was still hard to do.
My body is tense. Neck tight. My once pounding heart has slowed down. Sweat bubbles on my forehead, and races down my flush face. My eyes sting from the salt invading them.
I tug at the crowbar, but it doesn’t budge. It is buried deep. Every pull brings the man’s lifeless head forward. I consider leaving the crowbar, but what if there are more like him out there? Although not a killer, I’m not opposed to defending myself.
My hands wrap around the crowbar tightly as I place my right boot against his chest. I pull and push at the same time. A squishing sound fills my ears, making me gag, but I pull harder. The pointed tip finally wiggles free.
The man’s body hits the floor with a dense thud. I blow the stray hairs in front of my face out of the way, retrieve my phone from the closet, and make for the swinging doors.
I toss them open, and enter the hall, only to find Nora standing to my left. Startled, I raise the crowbar in defense.
Her arms spring up in a defensive manner. “Woah, Madison, it’s just me.” Her body recoils, naked fear in her eyes. Coming down off the high of adrenaline bombarding my system, I slowly lower the crowbar to my side as my body deflates. “Christ. You scared the hell out of me.”
“Yeah, sorry. I was just coming to check on you.” She looks me up and down. “What the hell happened to you?”
Spent, I glance over my shoulder at the storage room. “I went to get an additional blanket for my bed, and found some guy in blue coveralls just standing in the darkness. He just attacked me. Or tried to. He had me cornered in some closet. I found this crowbar and... defended myself.”
Nora’s face is thick with shock and disbelief. She glances to the storage room, then back to me. She cautiously walks over to the doors, and opens them slowly. She disappears into the darkness, and turns on the lights.
The toll of the intense encounter weighs heavily on me. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. I calm my thoughts as best I can, and take in a deep gulp of air. I release it slowly.
Nora screams.
She runs out, the light from the overhead lamps bringing to life the dead man sprawled out on the floor. Blood is smeared over the linoleum, and pooled under his head—a gruesome scene that the darkness spared me from.
“It’s Stan, the facilities general handy-man and mechanic. Why would he do that? He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met.”
I shrug, and point to the right side of my neck. “It looked like he was attacked himself. He had a nasty bite mark here.”
She doubles over. The heels of her hands rest on the soft parts of her knees. She appears as though she is going to throw up. After seeing the aftermath in the light, I feel much the same.
“What’s going on here?” I ask.
She places the palm of her hand over her mouth as her body convulses. The gagging noise torments my stomach even more, but I maintain.
Nora keeps the contents of her lower region down as well. I’m thankful for that. I’m prone to upheaving rather easily if I so much as catch a whiff or sight of the vile stuff.
She swipes her hand across her lips, and turns toward me. She pants, eyes full of confusion and disgust. “I have no idea. I’m just as lost as you are.”
My head cocks to the side, lips pressed together. For some reason, I’m not buying her naive response. Not after what I have just been through.
“So, you have no idea why that crazy bastard in there had a chunk of his flesh ripped from his neck, and attacked me like Dr. Stevens would’ve attacked me?”
“Of course not, Madison.” Her confused state quickly fades, and turns to that of a defensive posture. Her body tenses, and eyes narrow at me. “I have never encountered anything like this before. I have no earthly idea what is happening. I can’t believe I’m actually standing here defending myself to this.” Nora takes a step back and sighs. Revulsion clouds her face as she looks away from me. She is pissed from my question. I am either completely wrong to ask, or hit a nerve that tells me she knows more than she is letting on. I decide to press further.
“The only reason I ask is because I recently spoke with one of your staff members. They speculated that Dr. Stevens’s odd behavior and ailment could be due to her being exposed to some sort of contagion or virus when one of the seals on Tak’s chamber failed.”
Nora glances back at me, and pulls her shoulders close to her body. She shakes her head, and crosses her arms. “Cynthia.”
I shrug. “I didn’t catch her name. She didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. She seemed to have a whole lot to say on what is happening around here. Although intriguing, I took what she said with a grain of salt. After what I just went through, though, I’m inclined to give it some credit.”
“That woman is delusional. I think she’s been onsite for too long. People can get stressed out when they are stationed in remote locations for long periods of time. I think she’s at her breaking point,” Nora hisses. “I told Vincent that he needed to send her home, but he declined that request. He wanted her to stay and help out. Much like everyone else here, he feels she is of great value. Don’t get me wrong, she is a smart and talented scientist, but she can also cause problems. Likes to force feed her conspiracy theories down other people’s throats whether they want it or not. Vincent knows this, but still insists that she is fine overall.”
“So, Dr. Stevens wasn’t exposed to any toxins when the seal ruptured?” I redirect.
Nora’s eyes remain deadlocked with mine. “When the seal ruptured, some air vented out of the chamber. Dr. Stevens was exposed, but only briefly. Shortly after the incident, she was examined, and found to be perfectly fine with no side effects. It was only later that she fell ill.”
I hold my hand up to my face. “Why wasn’t she wearing a mask while in the lab?”
Nora sighs, and shakes her head. “The chamber that he is stored in was designated as being more than sufficient by myself and even Vincent. However, since that incident, it has been required that any personnel entering the lab wear safety masks in case of a repeat failure.”
“Has the rest of the staff been briefed on what had happened?” I pose.
“Yes. All base personnel were informed of the incident, and the updated protocols, promptly,” Nora answers with an angered tone. “Listen, Madison, let’s get one thing straight here. I don’t work for you. I work for Vincent. It is at my sole discretion to divulge what I want to you, and how to run this facility. Other than examining Tak, and giving us your input, you’re not entitled to anything else. The situation was handled per protocol, and within operating procedures. You just worry about doing what Vincent paid you to do.”
I scoff. “Well, obviously you’re not doing that good of a job, considering the current state of things here. If Dr. Stevens did in fact bite Stan, then it seems that she’s transmitting some sort of virus through her saliva. Cynthia suggested that when someone is exposed to whatever toxins might be contained within the chamber, they mutate within the body, and only get passed on from that point through a bite.”
Nora furrows her brow. Her lips grow taut as she ponders on my bold words. She goes to retort, but holds her tongue as the sound of heavy footsteps rushes headlong toward us. We both turn around, and find one of the security guards approaching.
He has his rifle laced across his chest. His finger hovers just above the trigger. A look of concern floods his rigid face. “I need for you to come with me, mam.”
“Yes, Clint. Did you find Dr. Stevens?” she inquires.
“Just please come with me.”
CHAPTER NINE
Down this dark and twisted rabbit hole we go. To say that I’m out of my depth here would be the understatement of the year. To be honest, I think everyone stationed in this frozen hell is out of their depth.
After all, when is the last time you heard about people attacking one another, and trying to eat each other? I’m inclined to think never.
Cannibalism is nothing new of course, but not in mod
ern society. Perhaps in certain cultures around the world this may still happen. Who knows.
But your normal, average person isn’t just going to go all feral suddenly, and attack someone without provocation. Even then, I can’t see someone getting so enraged that they’d want to physically maim and eat a person. Just the mere thought of tearing the flesh from another person sours my stomach.
When Nora told Clint, the head security guard, about what had happened in the storage room, he rubbed the palm of his hand over his face, and shook his head in a stressful manner.
We continue walking through the halls. My mind is still wrestling with what happened, trying to decipher if this is real, or just a bad dream that I am stuck in. Nora is silent as well, and keeps her gaze away from mine.
Clint points down the hall that curves to the left. “Right up here, mam.”
My head cranes, and tilts to the right to see what we are in for. Another one of the security guards comes into view. He stands at the ready with his rifle drawn and shouldered. He stands next to a blood-stained sheet in the middle of the floor.
Nora gasps, and slows her pace. She places her hand over her mouth and carefully approaches. I do much the same, although not as noticeable as her.
Clint grabs the edge of the sheet. He glances back up at us. “It’s pretty gruesome. Just wanted to give you forewarning.”
Nora nods.
He pulls the sheet back, just past the woman’s neck that I had spoken to earlier in the cafeteria. Her throat has been ripped out. The mangled flesh is riddled with teeth marks. Her eyes are wide and full. I can only imagine what must’ve gone through her head while being attacked in such a horrid manner.
“It’s worse below the sheet,” Clint cautions.
I grimace. My eyes clamp shut. I divert my gaze, and try to restrict the image from being burned into my brain. It isn’t working.
“Dear God,” Nora mutters with a tremulous voice. “Cynthia. “We have to find Dr. Stevens, ASAP.”
Dead State: Catalyst (A Post Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, Book 0) Page 4