Substation: The Last Stand of Gary Sykes (Human Extinction Level Loss Book 2)

by Philip McClimon

  Beverly moved over to Gary as Mack and Reggie talked together in hushed tones. Beverly rubbed Gary’s back, trying to comfort him. Gary looked up at her and offered a weak smile.

  “I’ve got to go,” Beverly said. “Are you going to be alright?”

  Gary nodded. Beverly gripped his shoulder, then turned and gathered up her things and made for the door. She was almost there, when Reggie stepped in her way.

  “Hold on, Bev. You can’t just run out there,” Reggie said.

  Beverly looked at Reggie, stupefied.

  “The hell I can’t, Reggie! Out of my way!” Beverly shouted at him.

  She went to move around Reggie, but he put his hands on her shoulders and stopped her.

  “We don’t know what’s out there— Well, we know what’s out there, but we don’t know how many. No one leaves until we check it out,” Reggie said.

  Beverly looked indignant. “So check it out, do what you want, but if you think I am just going to sit around here when my family—”

  Mack cut off Beverly’s words. “Yeah, the thing is, Beverly, we need to know that none of us are going to turn and bite us in the ass,” Mack said from across the room.

  “Yeah, literally,” Reggie guffawed.

  “What the hell are you two talking about?” Beverly said

  Reggie and Mack exchanged looks. “Well, Me and Mack aren’t bit, but when we came up from below, you were wrestling with the boss, and ol’ Gary was locked in a room with him. So until we know that neither of you two pose a threat, we can’t have you… you know, loose,” Reggie said.

  Beverly was not believing what she was hearing. “Now you listen to me, you knuckle-busters. There is only one thing that’s going to happen right now, and that’s me getting home to my family, got it?” Beverly shouted.

  She went to push passed Reggie, but he held her tight.

  Mack sighed. “Well, I guess we could look you two over, make sure you weren’t bit anywhere,” he said.

  Beverly looked confused. Gary stood up, panicked.

  “What do you mean, like strip?!” he said.

  “It would be the only way we could be sure, besides waiting to see if you turned,” Mack said.

  “Oh no! It will be a cold day in hell—” Beverly started.

  She was cut off as Mack nodded. Reggie tightened his grip and began to push Beverly back towards the supply closet across the room.

  “We didn’t figure you’d go for it,” Mack said, approaching Gary.

  “What are you gonna do?!” Gary cried.

  Mack grabbed Gary’s arm, his meaty hand completely encircling Gary’s bicep. Mack manhandled Gary over to the men’s bathroom as Gary vainly struggled. Reggie received the worst of it, as Beverly began to struggle. She slapped and scratched at Reggie’s face as he pushed her toward the locked supply closet. When he got to the closet door, he put his weight against her, wedging her against the wall, then called over to Mack.

  “You got the keys, Mack?” Reggie asked.

  Mack unhooked the keys from his belt loop and tossed them to Reggie. Reggie fumbled to find the right key to the padlock that hung from a hasp securing the door, as Beverly struggled.

  “When you get it open, throw me a mop handle,” Mack called.

  Reggie nodded and tried to unlock the padlock. It clicked open just as Beverly kneed Reggie in the groin, doubling him over. Seeing her chance, Beverly made a dash for it, but with his right hand on his aching package, Reggie reached out with his left and grabbed Beverly’s left arm. She pulled against Reggie’s grip, but couldn’t get away. In pain and out of breath, Reggie shoved Beverly into the supply closet. She fell on her butt onto a case of toilet paper. Mad as hell, she struggled to her feet as Reggie looked on apologetically. Beverly charged him and his apology turned to panic. Grabbing a mop at the last minute, Reggie slammed the door in Beverly’s face, threw the hasp closed, and secured it with the Padlock.

  Reggie turned and tossed the mop to Mack, then grabbed himself with both hands and slid to the floor, whimpering. Behind him, Beverly assaulted the door from inside. Gary twisted and struggled like a tiny fish on a big hook as Mack shoved him into the men’s room. Mack pulled the door closed and jammed the mop through the door handle, locking Gary in. Mack watched as Gary struggled with the door from inside the bathroom. The door rattled but did not pull open against the mop handle. Satisfied that all was secure, Mack went over to Reggie, who still sat on the floor holding his nuts.

  “You gonna make it, Reggie?” Mack asked.

  Reggie tried to catch his breath.

  “Geez, I had an easier time with Gary,” Mack said.

  Reggie opened his eyes and looked up at Mack.

  “Screw you, man,” he said.

  Reggie held out his hand. Mack took it and hauled Reggie to his feet.

  “Come on, let’s get our wrenches,” Mack said.

  Reggie held his stomach and shuffled along behind.

  Five minutes later, Reggie and Mack each held an over-sized crescent wrench and glanced around the expansive yard that formed the perimeter of the main set of buildings. The night was quiet except for the sizzle of the incoming and outgoing distribution lines. The yard was dotted with towers and gantries, transformers, circuit breakers and control cables. Huge overhead lamps illuminated swaths of ground, bathing the yard in a ghostly light. In between the ovals of light, dark shadows alternated, giving the plant a surreal feel. Reggie and Mack’s feet made crunching sounds as they shuffled over the loose gravel covering the yard.

  “So, when do you think Homeland will show up? Seems like they shoulda’ been here by now,” Reggie said.

  Mack kept his eyes peeled. “I don’t know, Reg,” Mack said. “But if I had my druthers, it wouldn’t be until after we got this place locked up tight as a snare drum.”

  “Why is that, Mack?” Reggie asked.

  Mack looked over at Reggie for a second before turning his eyes back to the yard and perimeter fence ahead of them.

  “Well, think about it, Reg. I mean here we are just a couple of lowly wrench turners who save the plant after the foreman goes and gets himself whacked. We’re in line to be hailed as a couple of heroes,” Mack said.

  Reggie broke out into a smile at the thought.

  “Sweeeet!” Reggie said in a singsong voice. “Hey, Mack, do you think there will be some kind of re—”

  Just then, Mack reached out and put his hand on Reggie’s chest, stopping him.

  “Hold on their Reg, I think I heard something,” Mack said.

  The two men froze in their tracks but could hear nothing beyond the crack and sizzle of live current. Mack kept his ear to the wind as Reggie waited. Just under the sound of the current could be heard the crunching of gravel behind them. They stood in the oval of one of the overhead lamps and stared into darkness between themselves and the next lamp. The two men waited and listened. The sound of feet crunching over the gravel got louder.

  “What is that, Mack?!” Reggie shouted.

  “You know what it is, Reggie. It’s a couple of them boogie men. Get ready to bash some heads,” Mack said.

  Reggie swallowed hard and gripped his wrench.

  “How do you know we can get ‘em all, Mack?” Reggie asked. He felt sweat break out on his forehead.

  Mack huffed. “Aw, hell, Reg. If that little geek, Gary can take one out, we sure as shit can—”

  Mack’s words froze in his throat as the sound of crunching grew to a crescendo. A mob of what looked to be twelve Shufflers emerged out of the shadows. Mack’s face went slack.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, Reg,” Mack said.

  Reggie shifted from side to side. “What about the plant and us being Heroes? What about Bev and Gary?” Reggie asked.

  Mack stared at the advancing horde. “Screw that and screw them. Run, Reg!” he shouted.

  Mack looked over at Reggie, but Reggie wasn’t there. Mack turned around and saw Reggie sprinting across the yard towards the perimeter ga
te. Mack dropped his wrench and lumbered into the night. Behind him the twelve Shufflers turned into runners.

  Five

  Mack was no runner and he knew it. With his meaty arms, barrel chest, and tree trunk legs, he was built for wrangling cable or turning bolts as big around as his hand. Those same skills made him a plodding giant and no match in the running game for a more lithe and slender man… Alive or Undead. As Mack slammed one huge foot in front of the other, painful shock waves jolted up through his calves and into his knees. The air pumped in and out of his lungs in deep harsh rasps, his chest rising and falling as if operated by a massive piston. He knew they would be on him in a second, his only thought now, Would it hurt?

  Reggie saw the chain link fence a hundred yards in front of him. His head darted left and right looking for the gate. He pumped his arms and legs furiously. He still clutched the forgotten wrench in his right hand, looking like a misshapen baton in this race of death. He had distanced himself from the ravenous horde, but what he gained in a lighter frame he lost in stamina. A sessile lifestyle of sitting on bar stools running a tab, or on his couch getting high was paying him their dividends. He could feel himself tiring, felt the painful stitch in his side that already threatened to derail him. The Things behind him suffered no such ailments. They felt no stitch or drain of fatigue. They only felt the hunger and burning desire to bite. Reggie ran, but he felt himself slowing. He cried out in fear and panic as he turned his head to look behind him, at the progress of the indefatigable horde.

  Mack’s head lolled back, eyes closed in pain. His gait more a shuffle than a run. As his head fell forward and his eyes opened, he saw Reggie up ahead. Mack’s face screwed up in confusion. Reggie wasn’t running away, he was running towards him. A pained smile broke out on Mack’s pale sweaty face as Reggie approached, his wrench held high.

  “Reg! My… man! Thank—”

  Mack’s words were cut short as Reggie brought the wrench down in a sweeping arc, not on the heads of the Undead behind Mack, but across Mack’s weakened left knee. Mack crumpled to the ground and almost took Reggie with him. Reggie backpedaled, dropping the wrench. He looked up at the advancing horde and his face went to a whiter shade of pale. Reggie turned and ran. Behind him a blood curdling scream laced with fear and murderous anger erupted from Mack. Reggie put his hands over his ears and ran into the night as the horde fell upon the stricken Mack and began to tear him apart.

  Reggie couldn’t believe his eyes. Instead of it being secured, the gate sat wide open. He careened into the guard shack and pushed a button by the door marked “close”. The gate rattled to life and began to roll shut. Reggie darted out of the shack towards the narrowing gap, taking only a precious few seconds to mark the progress of the Dead giving chase. He pumped his arms and raced through the closing entrance. As the gate closed behind him, his breath came in short bursts and he whimpered and cried, partly from the stress, partly for what he did to Mack. They had worked together for five years. They would grab beers together after work and sit on stools and bitch about life, their boss, and the government. It was the closest thing Reggie had to a regular friend and his gut raked him for what he did. What else could you do, Reg? His mind answered the call and tried to ease the pain of his conscious. It was him or you, Reggie, his mind echoed.

  “Him or me,” Reggie muttered as he watched the Dead slam into the chain link in front of him on the other side of the fence.

  A rush of relief washed through his system as stared at the closed gate. He cried as he brought up his still shaking hands and ran them through his hair. A guttural cry burst from his chest and he approached the fence. The Dead clung to it, shaking it in a furious attempt to get at him.

  Reggie backed away. As he did, something on the ground caught his eye. He went over and picked up a large flashlight. Carl’s flashlight.

  Realization hit Reggie hard. “You went outside the gate, you old codger?!” Reggie muttered to himself.

  His eyes rose from the security guard’s flashlight in his hand to the gate entrance and the horde trying to press through it.

  “And you left it open?! You left the fucking gate open?! You fu-!”

  Reggie didn’t get to finish his rant as a group of six Runners burst from the darkness and sacked him. Reggie’s vocal chords were stretched to the breaking point as he screamed. His body never touched the ground as the six sank their teeth into him, carrying him into the darkness away from the plant. A wet ripping sound rose above the growls and groans of the Feeders and Reggie’s screams were silenced forever.

  Beverly sat on an upside down five gallon bucket and stared bullets through the supply closet door. Her hands hurt from a previous assault upon it and when she had followed that up with what she thought was a pretty good kick, all she got was broken heel on her shoe. She was angry at the door. She was angry at Reggie and Mack, who out of some misguided macho attempt at taking charge had locked her in the janitor’s closet, and she was angry at the world for deciding tonight to spin out of control. She was just angry.

  Several minutes passed with her sitting on the bucket, fuming, waiting for the meat-heads to return and maybe let her out so she could finally get home. That was the thing that made her the maddest, she had not been able to get in touch with Mark or Tommy to find out how all of this was affecting them. She thought about another assault on the door. As she stood, Gary’s voice stopped her.

  “Hey Bev! Hold on okay? I’m gonna try something!”

  Beverly looked around her. Gary sounded like he was in the closet with her. Her eyes came to rest on a square air vent set in the wall, high above her head.

  “You found a way out, Gary?” Beverly said, hope creeping around the edges of her voice.

  “I think so! I removed the vent cover. I was able to get the screws out with a dime I had in my pocket. If I can climb up into the vent, maybe I can crawl out over the control room,” Gary called.

  “I don’t know, Gary. Once you’re over the control room, how are you going to get out?” Beverly asked.

  “Well, the louvers open up wide enough for me to get my arm through. As long as I don’t drop my dime, I should be able to loosen the screws and remove the cover on that end,” Gary said.

  Beverly let out a sigh of relief. “That sounds great, Gary. Good thinking. Just be careful,” she said.

  A few seconds later, she heard Gary struggling up into the vent. As he moved along, the metallic sound of the flexing tin under Gary’s weight bellowed from the square vent in the wall above her head.

  “Almost… there… Okay, hold on Bev…” Gary said.

  Beverly heard the squeaking sound of the louvers being pushed open, then there was silence. After what seemed a long enough time, Beverly called out to Gary.

  “How’s it coming, Gary? Are you out?”

  “No… I dropped my dime,” Gary said.

  Beverly closed her eyes as several responses cycled through her mind, all of which seemed to involve yelling something. She took a breath and tried to say something encouraging instead.

  “That’s okay, Gary. Maybe you can just knock the vent cover out, or… something.”

  Gary’s voice sounded from the vent. “Okay, hold on a minute.”

  Seconds later, Beverly heard the sound of metal rattling.

  “It’s no use, Bev. I can’t get any leverage in here. Hang on. I have another idea. I’m going to see if I can get the vent to break and drop me out that way,” Gary said.

  Through the vent Beverly heard the thumping sound of Gary throwing his weight against the tin walls of the duct work.

  “Are you through, Gary?” Beverly called out.

  The only response was more rapid thumps as Gary flopped about like a fish out of water. After several seconds the noises stopped.

  “Are you okay, Gary?” Beverly called up to the vent.

  Several more seconds passed, then Gary answered.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I guess I am not heavy enough to bust through,” Gary said.


  Beverly’s eyebrows raised in incredulity. “Okay, well try bracing your back against the top and pushing against the bottom. You should be able to break through then,” Beverly said.

  A second later, she heard the sounds of Gary straining.

  “No good. God, I am such a pathetic weakling!” Gary shouted.

  “No you’re not, Gary. Just… get back to the bathroom. We’ll figure something else out,” Beverly said.

  “Hang on, I think I have another idea,” Gary said.

  With her hands, Beverly covered her face in frustration. She tried to think of something positive to say, but words failed her. She let out a breath and plopped down on her bucket.

  “Where’s Bruce Willis when you need him,” she muttered to herself.

  Above her Gary chuckled.

  “Hey, Bev! I’m like Bruce Willis up in here!” he said.

  Beverly rolled her eyes. “Andy Dick, more like,” she said under her breath. Out loud, she said, “That’s great, Gary! Just let me know what I can do to help!”

  The sound of flexing tin could be heard moving closer. Beverly jumped. Above her head from the vent, the louvers popped open and Gary’s face appeared.

  “Hey, Bev!” Gary said.

  “Gary,” Beverly said.

  “I think I figured something out. Hand me up a mop handle, only without the mop part attached,” Gary said.

  Beverly looked around the closet and grabbed a mop. She loosened the tensioner and slid back the flat piece of metal holding the mop in what was essentially an inverted metal triangle. Casting the mop head down, she started to shove the long handle into the vent through the louvers.

  “Ow! You got me in the eye!” Gary said.

  Beverly flinched. “Sorry Gary,” she said.

  “No blood, no foul,” he said as he scooted backwards and pulled the mop handle in after him.