Go For Stories

They pored over the lab for around half an hour and found nothing relevant while picking through the remnants of equipment and data and mattress fluff. Nothing that gave them any idea of what caused the accident or even where it occurred. Eventually, they stopped kicking through the rubble, left the lab and changed out of their suits.

Nigel sat on the bench in the changeroom, rubbing his temples. His thoughts spiralled between rational and irrational possibilities, like a twister that can’t decide between destroying a house or throwing cattle. Murder or accident? An odd, mumbling hum rang through his thoughts. Truly weird or simply unexplained? The hum grew in volume; the beginning of a tension headache perhaps. Benign or sinister? None of it made sense. The humming became louder, more persistent. He didn’t have enough information to come to any reasonable conclusion at this stage. He knew that. Hum became dull roar. Still, he wracked his brain trying to come up with something. Anything.

Levi thumped him on the shoulder.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He rubbed the tender spot on his arm and glared up at Levi.

“I asked if you were coming back to the office. You going to sit there meditating all afternoon or are you just going to turn to deaf-flavoured pudding?”

Nigel realised the similarities between the hum and his friend’s voice.

“Sorry, I was thinking.” That sounded weak, even to his own ears.

“Thinking? You weren’t even on this planet, Nige.”

“Yeah, I know. Just trying to get my head around everything. Trying to think outside the box, you know? … How is deaf even a flavour?”

Levi shrugged. “So? Are you coming?”

Nigel shrugged back. “Nah, you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“Sure thing.” Levi moved to the door and opened it. He paused for a moment.

“Hey, Nige,” he said without turning.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’ve got a whole team working for you. You know that, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer before leaving.

Nigel sat at the bench for a couple more minutes. Not thinking anymore, just levelling himself out. After his mind stopped swimming, he took a deep breath and left the changeroom, dumping his suit in the big, black bin on the way out. A muted ‘woosh’ noise from the bin was followed by a sweet, burning smell.

Huh, he thought to himself, now my suit has flames on it too.

As he stepped out of the lab, he walked straight into Milly, bumping her across the walkway. She stumbled a few steps before righting herself.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching to steady her. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” She brushed her clothes down as if smoothing out imaginary creases. As she looked up, her face lit up with recognition.

“Nigel. I was just thinking about you.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” she lowered her voice and took his arm, leading him towards the wall as if it afforded them extra privacy. “I was wondering if you’d thought about what I said earlier. Do you think there’s been foul play?”

Nigel shook his head. “Honestly, at this stage, there’s no evidence either way.”
She lowered her head. “I see. Nothing? I just thought that there would be something obvious, you know? That smoke, it was so weird and I just … I don’t know. Nothing feels right at the moment.”

“Tell me about it. Look,” he took her by the arms and made eye contact with her, “I haven’t explored everything yet, not by a long shot. If I find anything, I’ll let you know.”

“I was thinking, shouldn’t this be reported or something? I know you took our accounts of what happened and all, but will there be a full-scale investigation? I just worry that it’s going to affect what we’re doing here.”

Nigel gave a genuine laugh. “The amount of money that went into this place, they won’t let that happen. The incident has been reported, but the investigation is up to me. If I should choose to tell you, it’s on me. Don’t worry about that. Besides, can you imagine the panic if we sent a dozen personnel, fully kitted up for a biohazardous outbreak, rushing around asking questions? I think it’s best that we keep it quiet.”

She smiled. “You make a good point. Anyway, I should head back. I’ve only been over at the new lab for a couple of hours now, but they’ve got enough for me to do already.”

“That’s it,” he said, “keep busy. Don’t dwell too much on what happened. That’s my job.”

She gave him a warm smile and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said before taking off at a brisk pace.

He watched her until she turned a corner into an unseen hallway. As her back foot disappeared, his trepidation returned. He could feel himself falling backwards into the unending loop of theories upon theories. Closing his eyes, he was able to bring himself back from the edge. He would take his own advice and not dwell on the matter until he had something more solid to work with. In the meantime, he would keep his insane ideas locked up, somewhere deep inside.

He opened his eyes and headed towards the lifts. If he was going to keep himself sane, he would have to face his fears. He hit the button and waited for the doors to open, tapping out an unknown tune on his leg. Things would be okay. He was obviously a little out of practice dealing with these sorts of situations; a side-effect of the smooth ride he had had so far down here.
The doors dinged open and he stepped in, hitting his floor number with a whistle. No reason he shouldn’t try and be happy. The doors slid closed and the lift bumped into action.

And just as quickly stopped.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” He said as he reached for the emergency button.
At least the lights are still on, he thought.

He waited for someone to talk to him through the speaker. More than likely, Levi would think he was having another panic attack or something. Either way, Nigel would have to get someone to look at the lifts to find out what was happening. This sort of thing didn’t happen down here. Not in this technological masterpiece. It seemed to him to be taking a while for someone to respond. Usually they’re right on it. As he had discovered this morning, a broken lift can be an unnerving place. He waited for a response.

Then he realised; he hadn’t pushed the button. His right hand was hovering a short distance from it, but he hadn’t made contact. Funny, he could swear he pushed it. He tried again, but his hand wouldn’t budge. He pulled back a bit and went for it with a run-up, so to speak. Same thing happened. Something was compelling his hand away from the button. The closer his hand got, the more the electrical burn throbbed with pain. A pain that needled its way up to his brain. He withdrew and tried with his left hand. He got it first time.

And the lights went out.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck is happening here?!” he asked no one in particular. “Why in the fuck am I not allowed to use a lift around here? What the actual fucking fuck is fucking going on? FUCK!”

He stamped his foot like a child who can’t get what he wants. He felt like one too. All manner of emotions welled up inside him: misery, fear, helplessness. Just as he was gearing up to curl into the corner and cry out of frustration, the red emergency lights came on. He looked up. As he did, something clicked in his mind and he froze. If he took the time to believe what he was seeing, he would go insane. Whatever was happening, he knew it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t seeing it. He couldn’t be. If he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, he had indeed gone insane. Certifiably insane.

The doors were no longer there. In their place was an opening to Nigel’s idea of hell. This wasn’t fire and demons and pointy things, it was decay. The walls of the lift ran seamlessly into the walls of a corridor as if they were one. Only the corridor was dark and stained. Under the flickering, sparking lights, slimy-looking greenery grew down from the ceiling in an attempt to reach the black mold spreading from the floor like fire stains. The concrete floor was rotten and sections of the ceiling hung down in sheets. The smell bit into his nostrils and he gagged, doubling over with the threat of vomit. The stains led directly under his feet. He swallowed hard to keep the cold coffee and bile down and straightened, turning as he did. The back wall of the lift was gone as well. In its place was a corridor that stretched out into the intermittent blackness.

This time he vomited. He bent forward and his stomach emptied itself onto the floor, feeding whatever beast created this horrific place. He coughed, choked and vomited again, the purging sound carrying through the silence. By the time his stomach was empty, his back hurt and his throat was raw. He stood, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and did the only thing he could in such a place as this; he went for a walk.

The floor groaned under his every step, threatening to turn to dust and send him through into the rooms beneath. Assuming there were rooms beneath. The size of the corridor was relative to his halls and the lighting, though malfunctioning, was the same. It could be the same place, yet it was still so different, so … alien. He held his hand on the taser at his hip and moved towards where the atrium should be. He could see a dim light coming from the end of the hall, like sunlight coming through heavy clouds. If he could get to the atrium, he could get his bearings. Maybe there were others here as well. That thought comforted him. If he could find someone else to talk to, he could find out what was happening.

As he walked, he became more confident that the floor wouldn’t give way. The groans and moans said the floor was suffering from disuse. It needed to be put back into place. While the odd hole steered him in a zigzag pattern, he refused to look downwards. Whatever was down there at this stage would be more than Nigel could handle. Plant life had somehow gotten in as far as he now was, slithering down the edges of the hall like tentacles looking for a feed. He could see the opening to the atrium now. He could see freedom from this dank, flickering hallway, so he picked up his pace.

Movement forced him to stop. He slipped on the floor, but kept his balance. The wall ahead moved, he was sure of it. He stared at the spot, waiting. There it was again. A patch of black mold seemed to wriggle, jostle. The spots of decay melded together to form a single, black mark.

“Get it together, Nigel.” He took a step towards the mark on the wall. It remained still. “You’re getting yourself worked up.”

And rightly so, he thought. This was not a normal day for him. Everything that happened had clearly worked something loose in his mind, set him barmy. The patch wriggled again. Then bulged like a balloon filling with water. The bulge stretched and moved, straining against its confines, pulling itself from the structure. It stretched some more, then snapped. The dark mass shot across the hall so fast that Nigel lost track of it. He looked back at its origins to see the wall intact. A silvery sound met his ears and he turned towards the atrium.

And looked straight into two rows of shining, hungry teeth.