The Black

by Paul E. Cooley

  Bill held up his hand when he was near it. He slowly pulled on the extension cord until he had enough slack, and then shined the light down the left hallway. Martin did the same, but pointed his to the right. The two men were breathing hard and Shawna could tell their adrenaline had spiked. At any moment, the creature could drop down through a panel in the roof, come pouring out of a ventilation duct, or just be waiting for them.

  “Clear,” Martin said. His voice was soft, but distinct.

  “Clear,” Bill said. “Going left.” He advanced a meter down the hall and then waited while Shawna pushed the handcart. Martin kept his light pointed down the other side of the hall until Robert had enough slack to cover the rear. Martin then shuffled past the hand truck to follow Bill.

  Sweat poured off the group. The smell of rot and mildew whooshed through the A/C vents. Shawna felt like she was going to vomit. A look around at the others told her they were having the same problem with the air.

  “Come out, come out wherever you are,” Bill said. “You fucker.” He continued down the hall, the group in tow. Doors to storage and equipment rooms lined the corridor. As he came to each, Martin shined his light at the cracks between the door frame and the floor. Shawna suddenly wished all the rooms had hatches.

  They could see the next turn up ahead. After that, it would be relatively easy to get to the bridge. As they neared the next hall, Bill held up his hand for the group to stop. Shawna brushed a sheen of sweat from her forehead and wiped her moist hands on her khakis. Her clothes reeked of salt air, diesel, and sweat. And she wasn’t the only one with Ea Du stinky. The whole group needed a dip in the ocean, if not a hot shower.

  Bill peered around the wall and froze. “Jesus,” he said.

  Martin was already covering the other side of the hallway. Without turning around he asked “What is it?”

  Bill shook his head. “Fucking sheetrock is gone. All the way down the hall. Just studs and metal.”

  “You see anything else?” Shawna asked.

  Bill was silent for a moment. “I’ve never seen the floor so shiny.”

  Shawna groaned. “It’s been here. It dissolved whatever was on the floor as well as the sheetrock. Are the studs damaged too?”

  “Can’t tell,” Bill said. “You guys ready to move up?”

  “Clear here,” Martin said. “Watch the vents up ahead, Bill.”

  “Got it,” the roughneck said. “Robert? You ready?”

  “Yeah,” his baritone voice boomed.

  Shawna pushed the hand truck and awkwardly maneuvered it behind Bill. He waited until he felt the edge of the generator against his ass and then started forward. Robert carefully walked past the generator and into the hallway, his light covering the rear.

  Martin pointed his light at the upper edge of the left wall. Green’s light covered the right. Shawna pushed the hand truck slowly behind Bill.

  Above the generator’s din, she heard a scratching sound. “Bill?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I hear it.”

  “The fuck is that?” Robert yelled.

  Shawna fought the urge to turn around.

  “What’s going on, Robert?” Martin asked.

  The scratching sound was louder. Something clanged to the floor behind her.

  “Goddammit!” Robert shouted.

  Her resolve broke and she turned around. Her breath stopped in her throat. Three ceiling tiles had disintegrated. The lights at the other end of the hallway were going out one by one as the sizzling sound increased in volume. The right wall’s sheetrock dissolved beneath the dead lights.

  Bill growled. “Let’s move it, people. We’ve got to get Gomez out of there.”

  He continued forward. Shawna turned back around, her skin covered in gooseflesh and her breathing labored. She felt like her heart was going to leap out of her throat.

  The hand truck was getting heavier. Her lips upturned in a grim smile. Of course the fucking thing isn’t getting heavier. You’re just tired. They still had to make it to the bridge. The return trip was going to be hell. If there is one, a voice said in her mind. She did her best to drown it out by focusing on the cables.

  Creely hissed through his teeth. “I can see it.”

  God, but she wanted to turn and see what he was seeing. As she continued following Bill, she imagined the black ooze creeping down the hall and nipping at her boots. “How big is it?” she asked.

  “Fucking big enough!” Robert yelled.

  Bill walked faster. Shawna quickened the pace, but her arms burned with fatigue. Before too long, she simply wouldn’t be able to push anymore. She knew she was running on adrenaline and little else.

  The extension cord feeding Robert cinched taught. The generator tried to slide off the handcart. “Keep up!” she yelled.

  Slack, glorious slack, showed up in the line, but she could hear Robert puffing behind her. It sounded like he was going to have a heart attack.

  Up ahead, Bill took the left turn to the bridge hatch. He didn’t slow before taking the corner. She imagined him falling backwards, a large creature of black dissolving his clothes, flesh, and bones. Instead, she heard him banging on the hatch.

  “Steve! It’s Bill! Open up!”

  For a moment, nothing happened. She turned her head to look behind them. The hallway was dark. The black had chewed through wall panels, ceiling tiles, and the light fixtures. She was willing to bet there was plenty of metal up there still holding the florescent tubes together, but the wires were most likely stripped and the plastic dissolved into atoms.

  She followed the light as Robert waved it around the hallway. Sure enough, the halogen bounced off metal fasteners, screws, and sheets. The floor, however, was empty.

  “Where did it go?” she asked.

  Robert shook his head, but didn’t turn around. “I don’t know,” he said. “I saw it back there at the end of the hall, and now it’s gone. I tried to get a bead on it with the light, but it’s just not strong enough to reach.”

  Shawna flinched when she heard the hatch open with a grinding groan.

  “Gomez?” Bill said, “You look like shit.” She turned back to the hall to see Bill bear hug the short Hispanic man. Bill was right. Steve Gomez looked ragged and barely alive. The man was dazed and stared with glazed eyes. “Here,” Bill said and offered his arm, “hang on to me. We’re getting you the fuck out of here.”

  Something sizzled behind the walls.They all froze. Shawna gulped as both Martin and Dick shined their halogens near the ceiling tiles. She placed a hand against the wall. It was warm to the touch.

  “Guys? Something very bad is happening.”

  Martin turned to her and snarled. “And that would be something new?”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “I think it’s in the walls. It must—“ Her words were cut off as Dick started screaming.

  #

  Walking through the halls was eerier than he’d imagined. With his laptop bag dangling off one shoulder, Catfish really wished he had an entire pack of cigarettes stuffed in his mouth. This trip was right out of the video game Doom.

  The lights down the main hallway had been flickering since they entered the superstructure. The walls had large holes in them, the edges scorched as if burned. Polished metal gleamed from behind the damaged sheetrock. The hard floor reflected back their halogen lights as though it had just been waxed.

  As with Vraebel’s team, they’d loaded a generator on a hand truck and connected the remaining halogen work lamps to it. Two roughnecks who Catfish didn’t know were at the front of the cart. Another was in the rear. Calhoun walked next to Catfish. Catfish and his boss carried high power flashlights. Calhoun had said they would do the trick, but Catfish wasn’t so sure; he wished the engineer hadn’t insisted on keeping so many lights back on the deck. Then again, the sun would eventually go down and they needed to make sure they had something to fend off the creatures.

  Now that the fluorescents were on the verge of going out in the hallway, he
wondered if they shouldn’t be rethinking this plan. Big time. To get to the drilling office, they were going to have to pass the stairwell that led to the living quarters as well as the commissary. That big fucking puddle of black could be anywhere in the rig. Not to mention its smaller brethren.

  Vraebel had taken his team to the eastern stairs to gain easier access to the bridge. He hoped they were having better luck with the lights. If anything happened to Shawna, he’d personally blow the rig up as a final fuck you to whatever was on it.

  They crept slowly toward the stairwell. The two men in front had their halogens pointed straight down the hall. As they neared it, one of them said “Stop” in a low voice.

  Catfish and Calhoun stopped the hand truck and waited. The roughneck walked sideways across the entrance and bathed the landing in light. “Fuck,” he whispered.

  “What is it?” Calhoun asked.

  The man didn’t turn around. “Stairwell metal is shining damned bright. The sheetrock is gone. Completely. Only things left are burned wood and metal.

  “That tracks,” Calhoun said. “It could be in the walls now, guys, as well as the vents.” He turned on his flashlight and shined it up at the ceiling tiles down the hall. Vents were spaced out every four meters or so. “We need to be damned careful.”

  “No shit,” the roughneck behind them said.

  What’s his name? Jake? Jim? Fuck, Catfish thought.

  Calhoun didn’t respond or turn to the man. “Ready when you are, Terry.”

  The roughneck staring into the stairwell flinched a little at his name, and then stepped past the entrance. They kept moving. Catfish peered into the stairwell as they passed. As Terry said, the landing was a goddamned mess, and yet clean as a whistle. The usual detritus of rig grime from boots was completely absent. The sheetrock was gone all right, and the wooden studs looked as though they’d met a flamethrower. Well, now they knew the thing could consume wood too.

  Catfish kept one hand on the dolly to help push while held the halogen flashlight in the other. He and Thomas flashed their lights up at the vents as they had before, but something felt off. The deeper they walked into the superstructure, the more fetid the air.

  The drilling office entrance was close. Catfish went over in his mind what he needed to do. It was simple, really. He needed to hook up the laptop, download a few files, and reconfigure the rig cameras to talk to his laptop. Once that was done, they’d be able to see what was going on as they executed Calhoun’s plan.

  When they reached the door to the drilling office, Terry blew a sigh out between his teeth. “Now what?” he asked.

  The door was open. Not because someone had left it open, but because it had been dissolved into nothing. A gleaming brass door-knob and locking mechanism sat at the threshold.

  Calhoun scanned the debris. He cursed and then waved his flashlight toward the drilling office entrance. “We go in,” he said. He turned to Catfish. “You take the left side, I’ll take the right.”

  Catfish nodded. The sight of the damaged walls, the flickering lights, and the damned door knob on the floor, had sent his pulse racing. “If I see it, I’ll make sure I hurt it.”

  “Good,” Calhoun said. “Terry? Aaron? We need you to go in first and give the all clear. Then we’ll push the generator past the threshold. Once we’re inside, we’ll need y’all to cover us while Catfish punches some keys. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” the two men grumbled.

  Calhoun glanced over his shoulder. “Joel? Guard the door. Keep the light pointed out into the hall.”

  The large bearded man nodded. Catfish wasn’t sure if Joel was mute or just didn’t like to talk. Or maybe he was as terrified as the rest of them and didn’t want anyone to hear it in his voice. Didn’t matter. Catfish could tell the man would do his job. He’d volunteered to take the rear guard and in some ways, Catfish thought that was more dangerous than being up front.

  Terry walked through the entryway first, Aaron close behind. Their cords stretched as they traveled a few feet inside. He could hear whispered cursing, but little else. “Clear,” a voice called.

  Catfish ground his teeth as he and Calhoun pushed the generator into the office. There was barely enough room for the hand truck and it took some work to get it inside. If the door had still been attached, it would have been impossible. As it was, they dug huge gouges in the remains of the wooden frame.

  The drilling office was quiet except for the hum of the computers. Catfish glanced over at Harobin’s workstation. He wished the man was still there, talking to himself and picking green gold from his nostrils. He sighed and took another long look around the room. He swept all the nooks and crannies with the high powered light. No sign of the black.

  He let out a sigh, released the hand truck, and headed to his workstation. Terry walked beside him and kept the light shining on the area in front of the computers. If the things wanted somewhere to hide, the actual server room was the perfect place. Although under a desk or printer stand would do just as well.

  Calhoun had read his mind. The engineer squatted a meter away from the line of workstations, his light stabbing into the darkness beneath the computer desks. That was good. At least someone had some common sense.

  Catfish hit the keyboard and then logged in. He brought up a console and connected to the control server. Vraebel had given him the username and password he’d need to reconfigure the camera feeds. He added his laptop’s MAC address to the push list and then reloaded the camera service configuration. A green “OK” appeared on the console.

  He dug his laptop out of the bag, opened the lid, and then hit the camera service IP address. His browser immediately filled with six real-time images. He felt someone staring and turned to Calhoun. The engineer’s eyebrows were raised. Catfish nodded to him.

  The keys clacked beneath his nimble fingers as he traversed to the directory he needed. He transferred the latest AUV configuration files to his laptop, and checked to make sure they were there and in good shape. The last thing he needed was for them to have made this trip for nothing.

  “Okay,” Catfish said. “I think I have what I need.”

  Calhoun nodded. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said. Both his eyes and his light were fixed on a spot above the workstation.

  Catfish slowly turned his head and saw what his boss had seen. High on the wall, an A/C vent was darker than it should have been. Its once white painted face now shined beneath Thomas’ light. There was something in the vent, something the light couldn’t quite reach.

  He slipped the laptop back in its case, stood, and threw the bag over his shoulder. Once the heavy flashlight was back in his hands, he felt a little better. But whatever was in that vent had chilled his blood.

  He walked over and stood next to Calhoun. “It’s in there,” he said.

  Thomas nodded. “The only question,” he said, “is which one.”

  “We ready to get out of here?” Joel asked from the doorway. The man’s light was still facing the doorway, but he’d turned around to stare at them.

  “Joel!” Calhoun yelled. But it was too late.

  While he was turned to them, a black tendril of ooze grew from the top of the door frame. As Joel’s head turned back to the hallway, the tendril reached forward and wrapped around his neck. Joel dropped the halogen light and it shattered when it hit the floor. He wrapped his hands around his neck to try and pull the thing off. Severed fingers dropped to the floor like sliced sausages. The tendril ripped him off his feet. The sizzle and stench of burned flesh filled the drilling office. Joel’s screams were cut off as his body disappeared into the hallway.

  Both Terry and Aaron stood frozen just a few meters away from the doorway. Catfish breathed in shallow gasps. “Jesus.”

  Calhoun looked back up at the vent. “It’s still there. Aaron? Terry?” The two men kept staring at the empty doorway. “Guys!” Calhoun yelled. The two roughnecks turned to him. “Keep your fucking lights aimed on that door way. One high,
one low.”

  Catfish pointed his light at the vent. The black thing was still in there. “Jesus. You think those two are working together?”

  “I don’t know,” Calhoun said. “Not sure I want that to be true.”

  “Me neither.” Catfish gulped. “Back into the hall?”

  “Yes. Back into the hall.” Calhoun walked toward the hand truck. The air had turned hazy from the generator’s exhaust. It was getting hard to breathe. “We need to keep moving,” Calhoun said. He pointed to Aaron. “You. Cover our backs. Terry? You take point. Craig?”

  “Yeah, I’ll cover the vents.”

  “Good.” Terry got in front of the hand truck and Aaron took his position behind Calhoun. “Let’s go,” the engineer said.

  Catfish lingered for a second to make sure the thing in the vent stayed there. As he turned and got behind Terry, he wished like hell they could close a hatch behind them.

  #

  Steel buckled with a shriek. The entire left side of the hallway bowed outward as wooden studs disintegrated. A pair of black tentacles struck out through large gouges and wrapped around Dick. The man’s shoulders smoked and sizzled at the black’s touch.

  Dick’s lamp crashed to the floor and the light went out. Creely shouted and pointed the high-powered light at Dick’s shaking and twitching body. Smoke curled up from the black tentacles, but they refused to let go of their prize. They dragged Dick’s screaming body into the wall with a crunch. Blood splattered against the walls and Shawna’s face as Dick’s head popped off his shoulders and rolled to the ground.

  “Green!” Creely yelled. From behind the shattered wall, they heard the sounds of frying bacon. “Green!” Bob yelled again. He held his head in his hands and wailed.

  Sigler could barely hear anything over the sound of her heart. She turned and stared back at the bridge hatch. Bill helped Gomez limp toward the generator. Vraebel stared down the hallway. She turned back and realized she was far too close to the buckled wall.

  She stepped backward until her ass hit the hand truck. “I need a light!” she yelled. No more than a second later, Vraebel was beside her, his light pointed at the wall.