by R. Brewer
A sudden change in the air caught his attention and Chuck felt the rumble of a distant explosion. The things beneath him screamed and collided into each other. He could hear them starting to move, bashing against each other in a frenzy. Another explosion. More screaming, then a mass rush of the things toward the noise. They clattered and banged their way down the hallway while Chuck waited. He realized, whatever these things were, they weren’t too smart, running toward an explosion, instead of away from it. Either that, or they weren't scared. At all. Of anything.
When it seemed as if it was completely quiet, Chuck slowly opened the access panel and peered down into the corridor below. Looking in the direction they came from, he found himself disgusted. The floor was a mass of gore, covered with rotting skin and muscle liquefied into a sudsy trampled mush. Chuck jumped down, his feet splashing as he landed. Too late, he felt the vibrations on the floor and realized he forgot to look the other direction.
The thing hit him with the force of a speeding truck and they tumbled, banging and bashing against each other, peeling tile from the floor as they skidded down the hallway. When they finally came to a stop, Chuck pushed the thing off of him, launching it against the wall.
He jumped up, trying to shake off the disorientation from the surprise attack. The thing made a deep gurgling noise as it regained its footing and turned to look at him. Chuck felt as if fear held a grip on every molecule of his metallic frame.
A long, scaly tail protruded from the back end of the creature. Teeth jutted from its blackened mouth at unnatural angles. A piece of rotting grey flesh hung from one of its teeth. Chuck was deciding which way to run when he noticed something. The shredded clothes on the thing looked like a combat uniform. He leaned over, ever so slightly, and saw it. A Gypsum logo.
He didn’t know what this thing was capable of. He just knew he needed to kill it. “You’re a Gypsum thing. A … well, whatever the hell you are,” Chuck said, his metal jaws clanging together in consternation. “You don’t deserve to live.”
Chuck jumped up and ripped a metal conduit from the ceiling as the thing crouched on all fours, preparing to lunge at him. He heard it digging its feet into the tile just before it pushed off. As he swung the pipe in front of him, the face of the Gypsum thing opened wide, expelling a horrific scream.
Chuck could feel the blast of its breath and smell the rank odor of decay. He didn’t hesitate. He thrust the pipe forward and rammed it into the mouth of the thing, shoving it through the back of its skull. The sound of the thing’s head tearing apart echoed loudly in the hallway. Chuck's hands glistened as sparks sprayed in all directions from the metal on metal contact.
As the thing fell, Chuck thought he saw something in its eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if it looked like it was thankful to die. Then, it collapsed to the floor, immobile.
Chuck ripped another pipe off the wall near the ceiling. Steam sprayed down on him from the severed pipe as he approached the body. Just to make sure it was dead, he jammed the pipe into its skull over and over, until he could clearly see through the back of its head.
Once he had no doubt the thing was deceased, he leaned in closer. Seeing a key card still attached to a lanyard around its neck, Chuck pulled up abruptly, thinking the lanyard would snap. He was surprised as the head of the Gypsum thing, snagged on the strap, flew past him and landed with a loud clang a few feet away.
“Oops. Pulled a little too hard. Sorry guy,” Chuck said, feeling his metal jaws trying to bend into a smile. Looking at the incredibly delicate spine protruding from the remains of the thing, he realized he now knew a way to kill them, should he run into another.
“You Gypsum people, dressed up in your little play uniforms, really are as spineless as I thought you were, aren’t you?” Chuck started to laugh, but was scared by the mechanical rattle of the noise coming from his mouth, so settled for the smile he thought was on his face. He pulled the pipe out of the impaled thing and grabbed it by the arm, dragging it down the hall and stopping only at a bin that said 'cans only.' Chuck pulled the thing into pieces and slowly filled the recycling bin to capacity before turning and moving down the hallway.
Ahead, in a recessed area off the main corridor, he found what he was looking for. “That’s more like it,” he said, shoving his fist through the front of the vending machine, into the slot holding Three Musketeers. He grabbed a bar and bit into it without unwrapping it first, finding that he liked the taste of the metal-looking wrapper a lot. As he chewed, the scent of chocolate hit him full force.
The aroma of the candy bar mingled with and, much to Chuck’s delight, overpowered the odor of decaying flesh wafting in the air. He tore the vending machine door open and grabbed as many candy bars as he could hold, the pile of candy bars slipping through his hands. He searched the floor for something to carry his cache in, his coverall pockets having long since burst as his skeleton expanded.
Approaching the remains of what appeared to be a girl of about six years old, he bent down and picked up the Hello Kitty purse lying next to her and dumped out the contents. Chuck filled the bag to the top with candy bars and slung it over his shoulder, all the while trying to avoid looking at the girl. Some things were too difficult to accept.
He continued walking, noticing that the rotten stench seemed to follow him wherever he went. Realizing his coveralls were the source of the smell, Chuck slipped the strap of the Hello Kitty bag over his head and set it on the floor on the other side of the hall. He grasped the front of the shredded coveralls and pulled. The remains of his skin and muscle separated from his frame with a wet sucking sound. His entrails spilled out like thin Jell-O and splashed on the floor.
Chuck looked down at the pile that used to be his body and felt nothing, other than relief that he had rid himself of the rotting flesh. Confused by his own apathy, he picked up his Hello Kitty bag and walked on, searching. Finally, he saw it off in the distance. A handle dangling on the end of a chain. A shower, meant as a safety feature for chemical spills. He walked to it, set his bag where it would stay dry, and stepped under the shower-head, pulling the chain down and holding it as the water washed away all outward evidence of his humanity, leaving a gleaming mass of skeletal metal. He released the handle when he was satisfied that his body was clean and the putrid smell all but gone.
Looking down the hallway, he saw the obliterated security panels that had been flattened to the floor by the horde, wondering if Jodie could have survived somehow, if she had been caught up in the onslaught of so many. It occurred to him that she might not even be underground anymore, but he had to keep going, to find out for sure. She might be in trouble right this very moment. Feeling that he had no time to waste, he picked up his Hello Kitty bag and continued on.
* * *
Jodie turned down another gravel road and drove between the trees and into the woods. Her companions stirred as the SUV bounced through the forest. She found a spot she thought would be concealed from the road, parked and shut the engine off.
“Where have you taken us?” her father asked, yawning.
“There’s a town up ahead. We’re going to need gas. I thought I’d take a walk to see if I can find a station while it’s still dark.”
Isaiah pulled himself up between the two front seats and grabbed the map. He turned on a small flashlight and rubbed his eyes. “Where are we, exactly?”
“Utah. We’re just south of Salt Lake City,” Jodie said, thinking of how beautiful the terrain they were traveling was. She wished she were on vacation, far removed from danger, relaxing on a sun-warmed slab of rock in the canyons. “There’s bound to be people around here, but I’m not sure we should trust anyone. I don’t want to split up anymore, but we can’t all go in together, either. I’ll walk into town and call you when I find something.”
Hunter roused in the rear of the SUV and whined softly. As Isaiah moved back to quiet the dog, Jodie glanced in the back seat, seeing Noah asleep.
“Looks like I’ve got dog walking duty
,” Isaiah said, opening the door.
Jodie’s father grasped her arm gently. “I don’t know if I like the idea of you going anywhere alone, kiddo,” he said.
“I’ll be fine. It’ll be easier to stay hidden if I go by myself. Besides, I need you to keep an eye on things here,” Jodie said, glancing over at her father, noticing the look of concern on his face. She realized she liked him caring about her. It made her feel whole in a way she hadn’t felt since she was a child. She found herself leaning over and hugging him, an act that seemed so natural and so very important to her in the situation they were in. “Don’t worry. Just be ready to come and pick me up. I’m not sure I want to carry ten gallons of gas back here by myself.”
“Okay, okay,” her father said, pulling away and opening the passenger door. “I’ll grab the Jerry cans.”
Jodie jumped out of the front seat and closed the door quietly. She looked over, seeing Noah still asleep. She thought he must be exhausted, thinking about whether his mother was okay. Jodie was anxious, too. She shuddered at the thought Gypsum might realize there was no need to keep her or her friends alive. She met her father by the back of the SUV and turned on the two-way radios. “Someone will need to sit out by the road to get a signal.”
“I can do that,” Isaiah said, extending his hand to grab one of the radios. “I’ll walk down the road with you a few hundred feet. We can test the radios when I find a good hiding spot.”
“Well, my dear, we’ll be waiting,” Jodie’s dad said, smiling at her and taking Hunter's leash from Isaiah.
Chapter 6
Less than a day had passed since they'd been taken by Gypsum, leaving Noah and Hunter behind in the woods. Christy was buoyed by one thing. Evan Watts was out there, too, and the Gypsum guards were too stupid to know that. She felt Evan would protect Noah at any cost. After all, he'd risked his own life to bring Gypsum's plan to ruin. He'd put himself in life threatening situations more than once to try to save them. She kept mulling this over in her mind, convincing herself that Noah was safer with Evan than if he'd stayed with her. In the meantime, she'd have enough challenges to occupy her time. The first would involve escaping from the room she was locked in.
After the guards had taken them to medical to treat Mei, they'd been split up. A guard had grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Nick. Christy had fought to free herself and watched Nick struggle with the guard at the other end of the hallway. She’d felt like she was gaining ground for a moment, but the cold barrel of a gun pushing against her temple had told her otherwise.
"I don't care whether any of you live through this. You're only alive because of David Martin," the man holding her had said. "But accidents happen, you know. People die. Try that again and you'll join them."
She recalled the look on Nick's face being a mixture of frustration, anger and fear as he’d stopped struggling with his captor. "Just do what he says, Christy," Nick had said.
Realizing no options existed, Christy had complied and allowed herself to be pushed into a windowless room. Her anger had reignited, hearing the door slam behind her. As she waited for Gypsum's next step, she wondered what David Martin had in mind for them. Surely, if he were going to kill them, he could've done that by now. He was keeping them alive, but for what reason? The only thing she could do was wait to find out the answer.
* * *
The sound of footsteps increased in intensity as Chuck moved down the hallway. With each step, his metal feet struck the tile floor, the sound echoing against the walls and making his jaw vibrate ever so slightly. He felt around in his mouth for the source of the vibration and found something loose. He tugged on it, pulling out a molar. The tooth gleamed in his hand and he felt sad at the loss of just one more little piece of himself. Chuck opened his Hello Kitty bag and dropped the tooth in, thinking he might need it someday. He hoped he would, at least. As he walked on, he found himself alone in a hallway lined with doors, save for a deceased security officer lying in a crumpled mass on the floor.
The man still looked human. Still had his uniform. Still had a face and hands and everything that made a person, though he was clearly dead. Chuck reached down and unpinned the badge from the man's uniform. It gleamed even in the dim light as he fastened it to his metal collarbone. He gently unlatched the guard's gun belt, slid it off, and strapped it around his own waist. The belt barely made it all the way around his massive frame and he tugged at it, stretching it to fit. Chuck was happy to see that the man had very large feet and appropriated his shoes next. He was starting to feel a little more like himself.
"Thank you. I'll take good care of these for you," he said to the dead man.
Chuck walked down the hallway, peering through the windows he passed by, finding no one. Each room he looked into was equipped with what appeared to be an operating table and a large white cabinet that looked like his upright freezer in the garage at home. Curiosity finally getting the best of him, Chuck opened the door to one of the rooms and approached the cabinet. He tugged on the handle and the door swung open, a frosty cloud obscuring the contents. He felt his metal skeleton contract slightly as the super cooled air washed over him. As the cloud of frozen mist cleared, he jumped back, slamming into the operating table, sending it flying. He stifled the noise that wanted to escape from his mouth. A face stared back at him. A frozen face. A naked girl stood upright in the freezer, supported by metal brackets holding her in place.
At first glance, he thought she looked like a normal little girl, maybe about ten years old. Then, he saw her hands. Clad with claws and scaly skin, they reminded him of the hands of the Gypsum thing he'd fought earlier. He stuck his head in closer and looked around her back. Her scaly tail hung limply behind her. Chuck felt the metal of his naked skeleton shudder and grow colder. He backed away from the girl and slammed the door shut, not really knowing what to do next.
Chuck looked around the room, contemplating whether or not to do a bit more searching. Approaching a smaller cabinet, he pulled the door open tentatively, not wanting to repeat the surprise he'd gotten earlier, but breathed a sigh of relief upon discovering that the entire cabinet was filled with files. Pulling one out and opening it, he saw a photo of a man who looked about forty years old clipped to the inside of the folder. "Must be his medical records," Chuck muttered.
The first page of the file held the usual information - name, address, phone, intake date. The discharge date was blank. "Your name is Dave. Looks like you got in, but never got out." Chuck flipped the page, accidentally tearing it with his metal fingers. "Damn it," he grunted.
The next page contained one entry field, titled Treatment. A series of numbers and letters were written on a line, none of which Chuck could make sense of. He flipped the page and stared at the photos, almost dropping the file. The images were shocking. Dave at intake. Dave during treatment, hooked up to tubes, obviously in great distress. Chuck flipped the page. Dave in various stages of transformation, his skin tearing, bones protruding from pulverized flesh, his face contorted in pain. Chuck could almost hear the screams that must have come from Dave's mouth.
Chuck quickly paged through to the end of the photos. He felt the purest anger he'd ever felt, seeing the last of the images of Dave, his skeleton now revealed, his body stripped of flesh, his bones metallic, gleaming in the overhead lighting. Chuck looked at his own skeleton. "This is what happened to me," he said. At the very end of the file, one note was written. Deceased, 90 days.
Chuck dropped the file folder and reached into the cabinet for another. He guessed there were about five thousand folders in front of him. Frantically pawing through them, page by page, he felt assaulted by the photos of men, women, and children, each transformed into a horrific creature, all now deceased. A few lived for ninety days, some fewer than fifty, most under five. Many of the patients never made it through the transformation. He tore through the documents at a frantic pace, looking for evidence that anyone had lived more than a few months. He needed some indication that he wouldn'
t suffer the same fate as they did, but he found none. Chuck glanced through the window, seeing another cabinet in the next room. He walked across the hallway silently, making sure he didn't have company, and entered the room. "There has to be someone alive yet," he said, aware that he wanted to cry, but couldn't.
Chuck pulled a pile of files out of the cabinet and set them on the floor, the clanging of his skeleton against the tile echoing through the room as he sat down. He waited silently for a moment, wondering if any of the things he'd met in the hallway earlier had heard the noise. After a few minutes, when he was sure no one had heard him, he grabbed his Hello Kitty bag, pulled out a candy bar, and opened the file on the top of the pile. "Someone must have made it. I just have to look," he muttered to himself, feeling his eyes begin to burn.
Chapter 7
Jodie crept along the tree line next to a house, looking for signs of life. The town was enveloped in an inky blackness and her eyes strained as she looked for movement. The night was dark, melding everything into soft shapes and undefined shadows. So, this is what near total darkness looks like, she thought, staring up at the dim, star-filled sky. For the first time in her life, she could see the Milky Way clearly. How could something so beautiful be home to such enormous evil?
She wished for a full moon, yet was thankful there was none. If no one were watching with night vision gear, she might be able to sneak in and out unnoticed.
Straining to see movement in or near the house, Jodie moved from a crouched position and laid down, setting the Jerry cans to the side. She watched from the trees for about fifteen minutes, not moving. A twig crunched behind her and she held her breath. A footstep, then another. Jodie blinked away the beads of sweat dripping into her eyes and slowly pulled out her gun. The noise came closer, sounding quicker. She flipped the revolver's safety off and rolled on her side to face whatever was headed her way.
