7. Company
The last day or so have been a bit like wandering through a dream. Silent but for the rain, isolated but for the hostile that tried to claw through the door. Even the panic dampened after a while, fading and warping into normality. If I hadn’t seen or heard anything for hours, everything might be back to normal, right? Maybe this was just a short-lived mistake.
Or maybe I was insane.
Either way, complacency made me adventurous.
My trip to the break room taught me for the second time not to let my guard down. But this time I had no barrier between myself and the monster.
I didn’t hear the juice carton clap to the ground, didn’t see the wave of orange sluice across the wooden flooring. My eyes fixed on the bloated face hurtling towards me, torn, chewed nails outstretched to claw and rip. A sheen of sweat covered the hostile’s skin, blue veins pricking out on its cheeks. It was male, but nothing like sense remained behind the filmy eyes.
My conscious mind had completely forgotten about the letter opener tucked into my belt but, as luck would have it, my subconscious still had my back. I clutched my improv. weapon, the steel burning against the hand which came up to defend myself. What would have otherwise been a pathetic swat at teeth and foamy drool became a deep cut. Instinct was unforgiving. The hostile’s teeth clattered off the letter opener, the blade slicing into either side of its mouth. It howled, though I don’t know whether from pleasure or pain, for it lapped at the ruddy blood dribbling from the wounds with a black tongue.
Like a fool, I dropped my weapon. The hostile’s hands came up to clutch at the ruined flaps of its mouth. Gibbering, it tore at them, satisfied as long as it was rending something, too primal for self awareness to intrude.
Bile rose at the back of my throat. Our experiments had worked too well.
My hip knocked against the kitchen counter; I hadn’t even noticed I was backing away. Hands fumbled, slapped, closed around something large and rounded along the side of the unit. The fire extinguisher did not detach without a fight but I brought it up swinging, slamming it into the hostile’s skull without prejudice.
It didn’t even seem to feel the pain, still gnawing at its face as it staggered and slumped to the wooden flooring. With a scream that was almost a retch, I brought the metal cylinder down again into the pale dome of its head. Something gave way with a sickening crack. It twitched once and fell still.
Shivering, I turned away to bring up most of what I’d pilfered from the refrigerator before weaving towards the break room door to slam it shut against any further intrusions.
Through a sliver of space, just before the door clicked shut, I spotted three figures darting for the elevator. They were clean, their movements fluid. Human.
They carried weapons and wore lab coats.
Midas Plague 