by P. F. White
He folded his hands in front of him and looked suddenly a lot calmer. His jaw was set and Hank got a vaguely uneasy feeling about what the man was about to say. Hank's eyes flickered to where the guard had disappeared to but there was nothing to see. The man on the screen continued:
“The facts, as we have them, are not many. A strange sort of fog has descended upon the state of Florida, seemingly from the Atlantic Ocean. This began sometime around two o'clock this morning and has shown no signs of abating. Our team has not been able to reach any experts regarding the composition of this mist, but I can assure you from personal experience that it is cold to the touch and may contain some sort of anesthetic. There is a distinct numbing sensation when one is submerged in the fog, and it is believed at least some of the mass disappearances around the state may be explained by this phenomena. This fog also has light diminishing properties for greater than average. Visibility becomes impossible within only a few feet and no fog lights or other measures have been able to pierce it for very long. Continued exposure to this fog would not be recommended. If you are driving a car I would recommend strongly that you get off the road. Visibility is near non-existent as far inland as Gainesville, though that report is several hours old by now.”
The man paused for a moment. Claire's head jerked up to look towards the hallway. There was a faint popping noise coming from the direction of the lobby again. She glanced at her parents but saw no indication that they heard it. She then got the distinct impression that something was watching her. She looked upwards toward the ceiling but could not see anything unusual there. A smiling cartoon of a little boy smiled down at her, but that was just an advertisement of some sort. The newscaster continued.
“It is not my intention to alarm anyone, but I must report the facts as we have them. There have been numerous encounters, some in this very office- with what can only be described as creatures coming from within the mist. This is not a joke- I repeat: this is not a joke. Where these beings have originated from is anyones guess, but it is clear that they are both numerous and hostile towards human life. I urge you again to stay indoors, barricade your entrances and gather your loved ones close. I have never been an advocate of keeping a firearm in one's home, but in this case I would advise that anyone with any sort of weapon should keep it close by in case the...creatures enter your home. Do not attempt to speak with them or approach them. Whatever they are they...well...”
He lifted his left sleeve and showed an impressively bloody bandage upon his arm. It was placed directly above the wrist and the wound was evidently still bleeding.
“I can tell you first hand that these creatures are vicious and difficult to harm. What I encountered, exactly, I simply do not know. Whatever it was, it was somewhat similar to a great ape in terms of bodily composition. It moved at first on all fours, and in a simian fashion, but...well, it was definitely much removed from that type of creature. Others in the office here have reported similar creatures with great wings, creatures that resembled spiders, and even others with no ready comparisons at all. Before the cell phone reception went out, this station was receiving calls of incredibly large creatures located in the region of Jax-Beach and heading inland. These reports are officially unconfirmed but, well, at this point I simply do not know what to believe. I will repeat for the benefit of those just tuning in: stay in your homes and barricade all doors and windows. If you have a weapon of some kind please keep it nearby and protect your loved ones to the best of your ability. We can only assume that the government is going to-”
The screen began to crackle and fizz. The man's voice began to fade in and out as the set struggled to gain reception.
“-we-cannot--I repeat----and-”
Then the transmission cut out completely.
A heavy hand touched Claire upon the shoulder. She shrieked and jumped up from her seat. Hank was already pointing his magnum at the newcomer, a middle age black man wearing a security uniform who had somehow appeared seemingly from nowhere. No one had even heard him approach. Like John Smith he was bald. His eyes were cold.
“Who the fuck are you?!” shouted Hank as the man slowly held up his hands. He didn't appear to be scared, whoever he was. His body was muscled but he made no attempt to hide it.
“My name is Allyn,” said the man, “John sent me to take you somewhere safer in the building. He says that things are getting pretty scary out there. Would you please follow me?”
Hank looked at the man, but he had the same placid look as a cow. He didn't appear concerned in the slightest, nor showed even the most basic of recognition for the threat Hank posed. Claire squeezed out from the table and ran to stand behind her father. There were more popping noises coming from the lobby, this time loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Those sound like gunshots,” said Adriana, also standing now and nervously readying her own gun, “Why are there gunshots coming from the lobby?”
The man called Allyn only shrugged.
“I don't know. Like I said: I was only sent to make sure-”
“Adriana, Claire, take the baby and back towards the entrance. I want to go to the lobby now and see for ourselves. Keep your weapons handy. I'm going to follow you, but I want you behind me in case I have to blow this man's head off.”
Allyn didn't react to that at all. The man only watched as Claire and Adriana gathered the baby and their few belongings and headed back towards the lobby. Hank took a step back, keeping the gun level with the security guard's head.
“I'm not your enemy Mr. Fletcher,” said Allyn, “I'm only here to help. Would you please follow me to-”
“Like fuck you are,” growled Hank, “and how do you know my last name?”
“John told me,” replied Allyn calmly. Hank couldn't see a weapon on this man, but something still didn't feel right. Hank had become a pretty good judge of threat and right now this man screamed threat to him. There was something in the way he moved, some smoothness to every motion that suggested something unusual. Hank didn't have time to figure it out though- he had a family to protect.
“I want you to sit down with your hands flat in front of you,” said Hank. The man complied instantly, the same blank expression on his face. “Now I want you to close your eyes and count to three hundred. When you are done: you may get up and do whatever, my family and I should be gone by then.”
“You are making a mistake,” said Allyn, already closing his eyes.
“Shut up. Start counting,” said Hank. Allyn started to count loudly, his voice a slow, steady drone without the slightest hint of inflection to it. His hands were perfectly spaced in front of him. The television, somehow attuned to his voice, changed it's channels to correspond with the man as he steadily rose in number. Every syllable uttered seemed to make the machine respond perfectly.
Hank backed up as quick as he could, then when he was more than thirty feet away: he turned and ran for the exit. He found his family quickly down the hall, and together they all broke into a brisk jog back towards the lobby. As they moved through the eerily silent hallways, devoid of any decoration now that the panels had been turned off, they could hear the distinctive pop of gunfire even clearer. The noise seemed to echo dully off the walls, just as the steady drone of the counting could still be heard behind them.
When the family finally made it to the lobby: they stopped in horror. In front of them and on the other side of the double set of glass doors: a large group of people were banging upon the doors and silently screaming to be let in. Almost all the sound was blocked by the heavy doors themselves, but the smallest hint of it still managed to carry on like it came from an impossibly far distance. The mist was so thick that you couldn't see more than a few feet beyond the mob of people, but what could be seen were a dozen or so men and women with guns turned towards the mist and firing into it at something unseen. Some of them screamed, a few lay writhing on the ground or still in pools of blood.
John Smith stood quietly by the communication panel. He was ta
lking calmly to the woman on the other end who shouted and screamed at him. She looked like she was crying pretty bad and through the small speaker they could hear inhuman snarls and growls.
“I'm sorry,” the family could hear John Smith say, “But I really need your names if I am going to let any of you in. Without them I just can't. I'm really sorry, but I simply cannot let you in.”
The woman was crying pretty badly by now. Her face was soaked in tears which mixed with a bad cut near her lower lip. She managed to say something that must have been a name, but the family couldn't hear it clearly.
“I'm sorry Ms. Delaroy but I simply can't let you in,” explained John Smith patiently, “We simply do not know anything about you. Do you happen know the names of anyone else in your group? Perhaps we could let some of them in instead?”
Ms. Delaroy didn't like that answer and there was a prolonged bit of cursing that was mostly drowned out by someone screaming loudly.
From the mist a long, multi-jointed, chitinous appendage with a wicked claw at it's end had lashed out and impaled one of the men firing an assault weapon. The claw gouged him through the abdomen and hoisted him high into the air. Blood stained the claw red instantly. Somehow the man kept his finger upon the trigger and the weapon fired wildly as his body thrashed. The sudden spray of gunfire caught two of those banging upon the door and sent them crashing to the ground. He screamed until a torrent of what looked like small crawling creatures burst out of his mouth and began to swarm over his body. Only then he was pulled into the mist and disappeared from view. The woman at the communications box broke down completely. She collapsed to the ground in tears as those firing into the mist drew closer to the door.
One of them turned and blasted the door with his shotgun. It didn't even scratch the glass. Then he too was stabbed by the claw and dragged off into the mist.
“What the hell is going on here!” shouted Hank. He pointed his gun at John Smith and demanded: “Let those people in right the fuck now!”
John Smith turned to him with a sad smile on his face.
“I'm afraid I can't do that Hank,” he said, “I have to have their names, and they have to...well they have to be on the list, you know? We can't just let anyone in here. That's not my job.”
Hank's face screwed up. His eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second. He didn't hesitate: his weapon dropped low and he fired once at John Smith's right leg. The noise was deafening as the gun went off in the enclosed area. Surprisingly, John Smith stepped back at exactly the right time and the bullet cracked into the floor. Whatever material the floor was made out of seemed perfectly suited to absorbing the round and only a tiny hole remained of it's passing. There wasn't even a crack in the floor.
“Please be careful with that,” said the guard with a broad smile.
Someone grabbed Hank from behind. Adriana screamed and Hank turned around. Allyn's other hand took the gun from him. Hank kicked the security guard in the crotch and jumped back. Allyn doubled over only slightly before standing back up with the same blank expression on his face as before.
Adriana raised her weapon to shoot the guard, but he moved instantly to put Hank between them. His movements were too smooth, too fast. He seemed to have everything worked out ahead of time, like he had all the time in the world to work everything out.
“Big Monkey!” squealed the baby as he pointed. Claire screamed as an apelike form rushed into the group of people. It's body was black and massive. The thing was easily seven feet tall and nearly as wide. Cords of muscle like individual wires strained across it's skin with every movement. Needle-like spikes covered parts of it's body in place of hair. The creature's face was just a mass of tentacles with several long tusks sticking out to the front. It had two sets of arms, one large and with surprisingly human hands, the other smaller with claws at least nine inches in length. This second set of arms was kept tucked against it's chest unless it reached out to tear and rend. This monstrosity set upon those trapped outside with a speed far greater than anyone could expect.
Within two seconds several men and women were torn literally limb from limb and blood splashed to coat the glass of the double doors. The woman by the communication box tried to get up, but the creature knocked her down and tore her to shreds with it's claws, the blades moving so fast they were just a blur. The creature then roared, a terrible sound that was strangely broken and scattered. The baby clapped his hands repeatedly, calling out his support of the big monkey as it tore it's screaming victims apart.
“Run!” shouted Hank as he stepped forward in a fighting stance. Allyn stepped back as Hank tried to to deliver a wicked hook punch. The punch passed within an inch of Allyn's jaw, but the man took no notice.
Adriana and Claire ran off in the direction of one of the other hallways, seeking some sort of escape from the horrors now etched on their minds.
“You don't need to run!” called out John Smith behind them, but they didn't listen. They ran through blank halls. The entire complex was a seemingly impossible maze as they struggled to get away. The women couldn't hear anything from the front now, seeking only to hide or escape in some fashion. Adriana's mind seemed focused entirely upon the inhuman and impossible form of the creature that had killed those outside. Images from her own run in with the beast were fresh in her mind. She felt she could smell it now, even through the glass. She felt it had come for her.
Adriana began to cry.
“In here,” said Claire, taking charge. She had found a stairway beside a bank of what looked like elevators and when she got her step-mother and brother inside noticed that the stairs went both up and down for a really long way.
“Holy shit,” Clair said as she saw dozens of flights of stairs going in both directions, “Go up or down?”
Adriana was crying to hard to answer. Claire touched her lightly on the shoulder and said:
“Mom?”
Adriana turned away and wiped the tears from her eyes.
Focus, she thought, what would logic dictate?
“We go up,” said Adriana, as clearly as she could. Up made more sense: you could always escape from a window up above, but down led only to the dirt. Soon they were running up the stairs, stumbling and crying and trying to keep themselves together. Claire stayed strong while her stepmother cried. She somehow managed to hold it all together. She didn't know how, but she didn't question this strength.
This is what needs to be done, she thought to herself. The baby only stared in confusion. It knew its' mother was sad, but couldn't quite figure out why.
About seven flights up they took the exit and found themselves in a well lit, well furnished, and entirely normal seeming office floor. To one side was a small lounge area where a group of a dozen or so people were sitting around a coffee table and playing a board game.
They looked up at the crying woman with utter confusion.
“Um,” said an attractive woman in her thirties with short blond hair and an expensive looking business suit, “Can I help you”
# # #
Allyn was good. He was, in fact, much better than Hank. That much was obvious. Hank threw punches and kicks, used his elbows and knees, tried to grab and throw the other man, and all to no avail. Though Allyn didn't do a single thing even the remotest bit offensive: he somehow managed to counter the attacks without any apparent effort.
After about five minutes of hard fighting Hank nearly collapsed against his opponent, panting heavily as adrenaline and frustration warred against each other. Allyn stood impassively and watched as Hank struggled for breath.
“Are you alright Hank?” asked John Smith as he approached the man. He squatted nearby, but just out of Hanks reach, “You look upset.”
Despite himself: Hank laughed at the question.
“Oh, I look fucking upset do I?...Well goddamn I'm sorry I gave you that impression...what...wh- what ever would I have to be upset over?”
Allyn took a guess: “Watching those people die?”
“Ally
n please,” said John Smith, “Would you get Barry and Steve and see if you can't find where the other Fletcher's have gotten to? The last thing we need is them falling down the stairs or getting stuck somewhere and hurting themselves.”
“Of course,” said Allyn without inflection. He turned and left, pausing only to put Hank's magnum down gently on a low table. Hank watched him go and noted where the gun was laid.
“I think...” Hank panted some more. He had spoken too soon.
“Take your time please, Mr. Fletcher,” said John Smith with a smile, “I can assure you: we aren't going anywhere right now.”
Hank shook his head, looked at John Smith, and said: “I think you owe me an explanation.”
John Smith nodded and offered his hand to Hank. Hank took it and was helped to his feet.
“I think I owe you that too,” he said with a slight shake of his head, “I was hoping to wait but, well, circumstances being what they are...would you please follow me? You can take the gun if you like. I have a feeling it will make you feel better.”