Rig

by Bryan Alaspa

  Larry’s eyes were wide and he was sweating. He looked ready to launch into another tirade, but then he looked into Joe’s eyes and then into the barrel of the gun. He bit down on his tongue and turned to walk out of the room, Joe right behind him, poking the gun into his back.

  “All right,” J.D. said, “let’s figure this out and close that thing off so we can get the fuck out of here.”

  “Amen,” Monica said.

  * * *

  “You have to understand where I’m coming from on this,” Larry said, the gun still in his back, “I would think you would understand this, Joe.”

  “What gives you that impression, asshole?” Joe said.

  “You look a little more practical and level-headed than your boss there,” Larry said.

  “Who said he’s my boss?” Joe replied. “I like to think of myself as an independent contractor. Of course, he is currently paying my salary, not you, and that means I follow his orders.”

  “But he gets your salary from me,” Larry said, with hope making his voice go a few octaves higher, “so that means, really, you work for me.”

  “Nice try,” Joe said, “but I’m on their side and not yours. I hate big corporations.”

  “You’re not really locking me in a room, are you?” Larry asked.

  They reached an open doorway to one of the rooms and Joe shoved Larry in the back, sending him tripping through the door and stumbling into the bed. He turned back to look at Joe, his eyes pleading and desperate and more than a little wild.

  “Yes,” Joe said, “I am.”

  Joe slammed the door shut. The door swung inwards and locked from the inside. Before Larry could figure that out, Joe reached into his pocket and removed several coins. He removed three pennies and jammed them between the doorframe and the edge of the door, near the hinges. This was on old trick from his days in the dormitory at the university and it prevented the door from swinging inward and was known then as “penny-locking.” It wasn’t exactly high-tech, but it worked.

  Larry pounded on the door, trying the knob, pulling with all his strength. Joe took up a spot next to the door, his gun at his side, laughing at the sounds Larry was making struggling with the door.

  “Save your strength,” Joe said, “you may need it later.”

  There was a pause and then Larry began pounding on the door. When Joe laughed again, this seemed to make the pounding go on longer.

  * * *

  J.D. and Karmen carried the large duffel bags they had taken with them off of the helicopter. They set them down in the middle of the recreation room and zipped them open. There was a gasp from Lazlo and Monica when the stash of weapons and ammunition was shown to them. J.D. buried his hands inside one while Karmen did the same in the other, and they came up with what appeared to be rectangles encased in blue plastic.

  “Joe got this for us,” J.D. explained. “Even I’m not entirely sure what it is. I just know it molds and acts a lot like plastic explosives, is a lot more powerful, but also very stable so we could transport it and throw it around if need be. I have timers in here as well. It should also work underwater with no problem.”

  Lazlo whistled. “You guys know some dangerous people.”

  “That’s the truth,” Karmen muttered.

  “We have more in here, and I want to put as much as we can into that hole to bring all the walls down,” J.D. said. “We need to put the detonators into these before we affix them to the drill. Do you think this will work?”

  Lazlo shrugged. “I’ve never done anything like this. I guess it will.”

  “We’ll just have to make sure the remnants of the drill are deep enough,” Mark said, “so that when the explosion happens, it causes a cave in rather than just blowing the hole bigger.”

  “Will that stuff react to the heat?” Lazlo asked.

  “It shouldn’t,” J.D. said, “but then, it wasn’t made to be dropped into temperatures equivalent to that of a volcano. We’re kind of shooting in the dark here, folks, so we just have to get as close as we can.”

  “If we fuck this up,” Monica said, “there’s no second chance, though and we don’t get to go home.”

  J.D. nodded. “Welcome to my world.”

  Mark stepped over to the window, set high in the wall, and he stood on his toes to peer out. “It’s already getting dark out there and the storm looks worse than before. I can’t tell if it’s dark because of the storm or because it’s getting late.”

  Karmen looked at her watch. “It is getting late. I can’t believe how fast this whole day has flown by.”

  “Time flies when you’re fighting Hell,” Monica muttered.

  “I hate to say this,” J.D. said, “because I want to get the hell out of here as much as you guys do, but I think we need to wait until morning. With that storm and it being dark, we stand a greater risk of losing someone overboard and messing up the whole operation. We can’t have these things dropping off and falling straight into that hole. Lord only knows what will happen then.”

  “You mean we have to spend the night here?” Monica asked.

  “There are rooms back that way,” J.D. said pointing with his head, “we could all take a room and try to get some sleep.”

  “After what I just saw,” Monica said, “I think you can bet I ain’t sleeping again anytime soon.”

  “We should probably try to stick together,” Mark said.

  J.D. sighed. “You guys can sleep in here and stay up playing video games all night if you want, but I prefer to sleep alone. I’m going to take one of the rooms. If something happens, call me on the walkie and I’ll come running. Karmen can stay here.”

  Karmen gave him a strange look that he decided he didn’t have time to properly decipher. As usual, when he was in a battle situation, his body was ready to get rest however it could. He had a knack for being able to sleep even under the most tense conditions. It was necessary to develop this trait when you worked in the line he did, because you needed strength, and an edge, and sometimes sleep had to come when you were in a bad spot.

  J.D. stood up, stretching, grabbed his gun and walked off down the hall.

  “Anyone feel like playing cards?” Mark asked.

  “Deal them up,” Karmen replied.

  * * *

  J.D. walked along the hallway, pausing to talk briefly with Joe. He told Joe to wake him up in two hours so that he could relieve Joe of guard-duty and Joe could try to get some sleep. Joe agreed to this plan and went back to slowly sharpening a very large, very shiny knife that he had strapped to his leg. J.D. continued down the hall and chose an open room on his left. There were pictures of a family, children, and a dog on the wall near a mirror and others in frames on the dresser, but J.D. chose to ignore them, stripped off his wet shirt, hung it over a chair and then did the same with his soaked pants. He lay down on the bed and felt the tension ease just a bit from his muscles.

  J.D. tapped into his ability to find rest no matter the situation. Many would probably consider this an extension of his laziness. He found the idea of a mercenary who had worked as many missions as he had being considered lazy as laughable. To him, it wasn’t laziness, but efficiency. Yes, it took too damn long to write out that ridiculously long last name of his. So, to save time, he had his name legally changed and shortened. This was practical, not lazy, but many saw it differently.

  His breathing slowed, his mouth fell open. He snored softly, his eyes moving back and forth behind his eyelids. A sound, barely audible, but definitely there, near the closet door brought him back to full consciousness in an instant. There was another sound, for just an instant, so fast he wasn’t sure he heard it or imagined it, of screaming or moaning, and then it was gone. He sat straight up in bed, his senses at full alert in a second. He was on his feet, his hands and feet ready to strike out at anything. A shadow moved near the closet, buried beneath other shadows.

  “Who’s there?” He said.

  “It’s me,” said a voice he knew all too well, “I th
ought maybe you wouldn’t mind a little company.”

  Karmen stepped forward, the shadows lifting from her face. She was in just her bra and panties, her hair down, hanging over her shoulders. J.D.’s body reacted almost instantly, and he felt a twinge of embarrassment given the fact he was barely dressed.

  “I didn’t hear you come in,” he said.

  “I’m good,” she said and smiled.

  Her eyes were a sparkling blue. J.D. remembered many nights looking into those eyes, marveling that anything so beautiful could hide such ferocity and hardness. Looking at her body now, he could still see that hardness, but there was a vulnerability there, and a softness as well. Karmen was still all woman, even though she had muscles and contours that were often very masculine.

  “What do you want?” J.D. said, slowly relaxing his stance.

  “I thought you wouldn’t mind a little company, like I said,” she repeated.

  “I thought you didn’t want that kind of thing anymore,” he replied.

  “It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind,” she said and laughed, “besides, after a day as tense as today, I could use a little relaxation.”

  J.D. stepped forward, moving towards the bed. Karmen moved as well, reaching behind her and undoing the bra, letting it fall to the ground. J.D. let his eyes wander over her bare shoulders, down to her breasts. They were as perfect as he had remembered. He looked back into her eyes, saw there was a smile there too, as well as on her lips. She knelt on the bed and came towards him. He sat up, holding out his hand and letting his fingers get lost in her hair, pulling her face towards him. Just as his lips were about to touch hers, he heard the sound again. Screaming. Moaning. Beneath that, the sound of something inhuman; the torturer beneath the screams of the tortured. His hand grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled her head back.

  Karmen let out a scream, but in the middle of it, the scream became something else. J.D. pulled back, looking into the face. It was like when he looked at Rhonnie and the skin seemed to be made of water, becoming transparent, intangible. Something that wasn’t human lay beneath the mask. The smile grew large on the face he had been about to kiss, and again it was too large, with too many teeth.

  “Almost,” it said, and its feet came up, planted into J.D.’s chest and pushed away.

  “What the fuck are you?” J.D. said, pressed up against the wall.

  The figure did an amazingly agile flip off the end of the bed, and landed lightly on its feet. The face changed and the body with it. Now he was staring into another face he knew all to well. J.D. was looking at his father. His father as he was when he was a child, thin, dark hair, mustache, dressed in a business suit. The man whom he had loved and feared so much as a child.

  “Does it really matter?” it said.

  “Looking like people we love and fear,” J.D. said, “isn’t that just a little clichéd? I think I’ve only seen about a thousand horror movies with the same thing. I would have thought better from hell itself.”

  The thing with his father’s face threw its head back and laughed that horrible laugh. “What were you expecting? Red skin and a tail?”

  The body changed again, the legs became like that of a goat, covered with a coarse reddish fur. The skin turned red, the hair on the head disappeared, and horns grew from the forehead. A goatee appeared on the face, and, from thin air, a black pitchfork appeared in the thing’s right hand.

  “How’s that?” it said.

  “Tricks,” J.D. said, “you’ve done nothing but a bunch of third rate parlor tricks. I can see magicians in Vegas do the same fucking thing. Lurking in shadows and sneaking up on sleeping people, really, what kind of pathetic demon are you?”

  The face contorted in anger. The temperature of the room raised several degrees and sweat began to pour out of J.D.’s pores. The sound of screaming started again. A billion souls screaming in lakes of fire, bones eaten by a billion demons, filled his ears, his head, seemed to come from the furniture, the walls and ceiling. J.D. winced but he did not put his hands to his ears.

  “Fine,” it said, “you want clichéd? I’ll give you something a little ‘Hollywood.’”

  The figure turned into a shadow again, become dark, intangible, then vanished. The temperature immediately began to drop. J.D. jumped to his feet, and no sooner had his feet touched the floor than an alarm began blaring in the hallway.

  “Oh shit,” J.D. said, wondering exactly what his big mouth had gotten them into now.

  9

  J.D. ran out the door and past the startled face of Joe. He yelled at Joe to follow him and raced through the hall. He pulled his shirt over his chest as he ran, one foot still bare. Red lights set high in the walls rotated in rhythm with the alarm, making the hallway glow an eerie red. The lights began to flicker on and off. The sound of screams and torture filled the air and pounded into their heads.

  The group in the rec-room stood in a panic. Karmen held her weapon trained on the doorway. J.D. and Joe came skittering around the corner and J.D. held up his hands.

  “Don’t shoot!” He screamed.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” Monica screamed, her eyes filled with terror.

  “I just had a little run in with Satan,” J.D. said.

  “What?” Mark asked, walking over, heedless of the danger.

  “Something came into my room,” J.D. said, “something that first looked like Karmen. Then, it turned into my dad. Then, when I told it to leave, it said it would show me something a bit more ‘Hollywood,” whatever the hell that means.”

  “The power’s going,” Lazlo said.

  “We need to get to the control room,” Monica said.

  “We go as a group,” J.D. ordered. “Joe and I will take the lead. Karmen, you come up the rear. Anything that moves shoot it and I don’t care if it’s Larry. As far as I’m concerned he’s the enemy.”

  They gathered in a group. Joe and J.D. took the lead, their guns drawn and ready. In the pulsing red light everything looked menacing and shadows looked alive. They huddled as a group as they walked up the stairs. Karmen walked backwards, her gun panning left and right along with her eyes.

  They reached the control room and Monica and Lazlo ran to computer consoles. Lazlo immediately began calling up images from cameras located beneath the rig. Monica called up screens showing motion sensors throughout the rig.

  “There’s movement everywhere,” she said.

  “Something’s coming up through the hole,” Lazlo said.

  J.D. came over behind Lazlo and stared at the screen. Things were swimming up through towards the rig. Hundreds of shadowy figures moved, swimming with inhuman ability. They swam for the rig. Lazlo panned the cameras around and they saw more figures clinging to the legs.

  “What are they?” Lazlo said.

  “Demons,” J.D. replied.

  The figures were definitely not human. Their skin looked like scales. Horns protruded from heads. Eyes glowed an eerie green. Hands and feet ended in claws and teeth looked filed to sharp points. These were the demons right out of medieval paintings and ancient nightmares.

  “There are some already inside!” Monica screamed.

  J.D. walked over and saw the screen indicating movement beneath them, under the room. There was other movement higher up, as if in the hallway.

  “Joe!” J.D. said. “Check the hall. Is there anything in there?”

  Joe walked over to the doorway and carefully leaned out. A flashlight was attached to the bottom of his rifle and it shone through the darkness. The hall was empty.

  “All clear!” Joe said.

  “They’re in the walls,” J.D. said. “Just like a Hollywood movie.”

  The ceiling burst open. The fireproof tiles burst apart like paper and crashed to the floor and dust covered the consoles. Monica screamed. The creature landed on its feet, arms slashing right and left. Karmen let out a yell as talons raked across her shoulder. She went sprawling across the floor. Joe turned and fired. The creature fell backwa
rds and clutched at its stomach. The body lay motionless as greenish blood oozed from the wounds and the things mouth.

  More movement came from above. The sound of screaming grew louder and seemed to be coming from the equipment and the walls. The sound filled their heads. J.D. and Joe crouched and fired up into the hole in the ceiling. Inhuman screeches followed the volley and more figures fell to the floor.

  J.D. turned and tossed a gun to Mark. “Just start shooting!”

  Lazlo grabbed a pistol from Joe and he started shooting as well. Karmen got to her knees and she raked bullets across the ceiling. Green blood seeped from the holes in the tiles.

  Something crashed in the hallway and the floor bubbled up and then burst apart. More creatures began to storm out of the hole. Joe turned and fired, emptying the magazine into the oncoming horde. Mark joined him, his inexperienced fingers firing desperately. Joe and Mark reloaded and continued to fight, taking up positions on either side of the doorway.

  J.D. moved beneath the hole in the ceiling, sending more rounds into the hole. He reloaded as Karmen continued to fire. The sounds of screaming were drowned in the sound of gunfire. Shell casings clattered to the floor around them. Monica crouched beneath a console with her fingers in her ears. Beneath them the floor vibrated.

  “Where are they?” J.D. screamed.

  Lazlo stopped firing and looked at the motion detectors.

  “They’re still all around us,” he said, “I hope to God you have enough ammunition.”

  “I think only God could save us at this point,” J.D. said.

  The floor burst inside the control room. A fang-filled face burst from the hole and looked at J.D. J.D. continued to fire into the ceiling with one hand and reached into his belt with the other. He grabbed the knife strapped to his left thigh and threw the blade almost casually. The knife buried itself in the creature’s face and the demon fell back into the hole.

  The ceiling, weak from the bullets, began to sag lower. J.D. heard the supports groan from the weight.

  “We need to get out of this room!” He screamed.