《O.A.I.》 Day One The chamber was empty. The safety was on. Was that glue? Yes. Mark pressed the ejector, but the clip didn''t budge. It was glued too. "It''s only a formality, you understand. We couldn''t actually have guns going off in the lab. Far too expensive if something were damaged." Mark gave the man a skeptical look. ¡°I understand, but listen, they¡¯re nerds. Geeks. Wimps. Just having a big guy like you walking around in a uniform carrying a gun is more than enough to keep everything kosher.¡± Shrugging, Mark holstered the pistol. ¡°At least I won¡¯t have to worry about anyone trying to be smart by taking it away from me.¡± ¡°Ah, see, a silver lining. Trust me, son, you won¡¯t be needing a gun in there. You¡¯re more likely to die from boredom or being crushed by something falling on you. These people make a lot of money, but the presence of an armed guard can dissuade them from thinking they might make more by stealing something to sell on the black market.¡± Mark was nodding, he got the point. ¡°I understand, Doc.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m not a doctor,¡± said the man in the disheveled suit. ¡°I¡¯m just HR. I¡¯m not even allowed in the labs, which suits me just fine.¡± He shifted uncomfortably in his chair under the eyes of the new security guard. ¡°Look, it¡¯s creepy in there. I got a tour my first day, and I¡¯ve never been back, and I don¡¯t want to go back. Sometimes I get the heebeegeebees just being in the same building. I try not to think about it. You¡¯re the eighth guard this year. They told me to make sure it was someone with experience this time.¡± ¡°Well, you couldn¡¯t have made a better choice then, sir.¡± ¡°I expect so. Feel free to make yourself comfortable in the lobby. The door across the way is the break room and bathrooms. Hatfield will be along shortly to show you around. He¡¯s ex-military like you. I suspect all the guards will be going forward.¡± He said this last absent mindedly, having already dismissed Mark from his concerns. The lobby was large and quiet except for the tapping of Mark¡¯s shiny shoes, echoing through the space as he crossed to the break room. The squeaking door seemed strange in so modern a building, and Mark cringed instinctually at the sound. He was relieved to find the cafeteria empty. Rows of tables and chairs stretched across the room that must have been 40 feet deep, and half again as long. A variety of vending machines filled the wall to the left, and a long counter, divided by a half dozen fridges, covered with dozens of microwaves, holders filled with plasticware, and several coffee makers took up the wall to his right. Weaving through the mess of chairs he entered the men¡¯s bathroom on the opposite side of the room. Mark used a urinal then stared at his clean-shaven face while washing his hands. Could your own face be so unfamiliar? It certainly felt strange to see himself beardless. The thought crossed his mind for the thousandth time that this job would be good for him. A quiet lab where the worst that could happen was a chemical spill for the janitors to clean up. While certainly not exciting, it would get him out of the house, make him interact with people. People he didn¡¯t have to worry about shooting. There was the squeak. Had those janitors never heard of grease, or were they just too busy cleaning up chemical spills? Straightening his tie Mark left the bathroom. A man with white hair and mustache nodded from the doorway, ¡°You must be Emerson.¡± ¡°Aye, sir,¡± came the automatic response. ¡°Navy?¡± ¡°Marines.¡± ¡°Self-propelled sandbags.¡± ¡°MARSOC.¡± The older man raised an eyebrow. ¡°It may sound quaint, one serviceman to another, but I appreciate your service. Glad you didn¡¯t overdose on lead before retirement.¡± Mark half smiled and nodded, ¡°The feelings mutual.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Come along then, Devil Dog, I¡¯ll show you around your new AO.¡± Hatfield held the door and Mark went through, asking, ¡°And which branch did you serve in?¡± ¡°Army. Engineer Corps. Served most of my time overseas. Iraq, Afghanistan, Venezuela, Korea. I imagine I was following your trail," he held up his hands to poker-faced Mark and smiled, "I know, need to know. And I don''t. The last decade was in So-Cal. Retired about five years ago but couldn¡¯t keep still. I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s why you¡¯re here too.¡± ¡°Aye, sir.¡± The man seemed to be chuckling silently, giving Mark an amused look. It only took a second for Mark to realize how quickly he had returned to old habits. ¡°Hatfield, is it?¡± ¡°You can call me Jeremy.¡± ¡°Mark,¡± the younger man said, extending a hand, which the older shook with a firm grip. They had tap-tapped their shiny shoes across the lobby and now stood before the metal detectors. ¡°That¡¯s the employee entrance. The door behind them is one way only unless unlocked,¡± he continued, pulling a keyfob that was attached to a retractable keychain. ¡°They can get out, but they¡¯re only allowed in when one of the guards is on duty. We¡¯re through here,¡± he said moving towards a side door with a sign that said ¡°Security¡± on it. The lock made a loud beep in response to the fob, and they entered the office. ¡°This one¡¯s yours,¡± Jeremy said, with a metallic bang as he slapped the closest locker, door open. ¡°Bring your own padlock. I¡¯d suggest keeping one of your uniforms in here, fresh, and a full change of clothes. Sometimes you can really get to stinking, or have something spill. It¡¯s only happened a couple of times to me.¡± On the wall opposite the lockers was a row of monitors. Mark counted twelve and noticed that the images were rotating at regular intervals. ¡°Need those much?¡± he asked, nodding in their direction. ¡°Not usually. It¡¯s a pretty quiet post. Once or twice we¡¯ve had to check the recordings to see where missing things had gone, but there¡¯s never been any real trouble. Which is good, because it¡¯s not the most reliable system.¡± ¡°Seems state of the art to me.¡± ¡°Oh, the equipment is fine, as is the interface, but there¡¯s some kind of bug or other. Sometimes a camera or two will go completely black. Only seems to happen on the night shifts though.¡± Mark looked skeptically at Jeremy. ¡°I know how it sounds, but I¡¯m not hazing. IT¡¯s given up on it altogether, says there¡¯s no reason they can find. Probably a bug in the software. Like I said, though, it¡¯s never been a problem. In any case, the camera system will make more sense once you get the layout of the labs.¡± He continued to the back of the office where another door was marked ¡°Security Personnel Only¡±. ¡°No metal detector for us?¡± Patting the holster on his hip Jeremy smiled. ¡°They have to believe it for it to work.¡± ¡°But if there¡¯s never been a problem, and the eggheads are well paid, what¡¯s the worry?¡± ¡°Insurance policy. Literally. Having armed guards on site reduces the costs of insurance dramatically. We get paid a lot less than they save on having all this equipment insured against theft, damage, etcetera.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Makes sense, but I still don¡¯t like it.¡± Jeremy opened the door to the back, and Mark followed him into a corridor with one-way glass. The entrance tunnel beyond the metal detectors was on the other side. ¡°I mean, it just feels wrong to carry a gun that can¡¯t fire. Makes me nervous. What if I did need it?¡± Shrugging, Jeremy unholstered his pistol casually. Mark was surprised when he pulled back the slide to show the chamber to Mark. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either.¡± Inside the chamber was a bullet. Rubber round. Jeremy winked at him, then holstered the pistol again. He must have brought his own pistol. One without glue. A wave of relief that surprised Mark ran through his muscles. He hadn¡¯t realized how tense he had been. At least one of them was armed. He shook his head and reprimanded himself mentally. This wasn¡¯t enemy territory. There wasn¡¯t going to be anyone shooting at him. Too long with a certain level of self-defense had made him accustomed to being able to respond to force with ultimate force. He wouldn¡¯t need that here. They had reached the other end of the tight corridor and another door with another maglock on it beeped to the keyfob. Jeremy turned the handle then looked back at Mark. ¡°Ready?¡± Mark nodded confidently. ¡°No, you¡¯re not. No one¡¯s ever ready the first time.¡± He pulled the door open. Mark emptied the bag onto his bed. ¡°What¡¯s all this, hun?¡± ¡°Just stuff I need for work,¡± he mumbled opening the pack of rubber bullets. ¡°They don¡¯t even provide you with your own ammunition?¡± She was looking at him incredulously. He gave her a confident smile back, to calm her. ¡°Not enough.¡± She rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. Mark felt a shiver go down his spine and found himself wishing he was loading real bullets into the clips. Day Two Mark arrived at 21:45, the parking lot gate opening as he approached. Jeremy must have been looking out for him. Light reflected off dozens of cars in the parking lot. How big was the night crew? Pulling into one of the several spaces reserved for security, he stepped out of the truck into the brisk air. He would have to do a couple patrols around the building later in the night, and as they got deeper into fall and winter that would mean heavier clothing. He had brought a thick jacket tonight, to keep in the locker. Light spilled out of the lobby windows into the darkness, but it was muted by the heavily tinted glass, giving an eerie, half-real feel to it.The front door beeped to his electronic key fob, but the beep sounded just a little bit off. Pulling the door he felt a rush of warm wind and entered the building. His shoes clacked and echoed as he crossed the empty lobby and Mark suddenly felt very exposed. Fighting down his anxiety, calming his nerves, was easy. He did it almost automatically. Twenty three missions he had been under intense gunfire, he could handle an echoey lobby. The door with ¡°Security¡± on it opened as he approached and the warm smile of Jeremy calmed him even more. ¡°Evening.¡± ¡°How are you, Mark?¡± Mark nodded and smiled. ¡°Rested. Ready for round two.¡± ¡°Glad to hear it. Let¡¯s go over the monitors again real quick, you drive.¡± Mark sat in the chair at the big desk and pointed to scenes as they flashed by, naming the rooms by their corresponding route number. ¡°Guess I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, but that was perfect. Never had a newbie get it their first try.¡± They spoke a few more minutes to each other, mostly about the increasingly colder weather up here in the range. Would it be a heavy winter this year? Did Jeremy ski? He didn¡¯t think so, and no, though he used to snowboard. They said a brief goodbye, ¡°I¡¯ll be back in twelve. Don¡¯t forget to unlock the front doors at oh-six-hundred.¡± Tap, tap, tap, tap¡­ Mark was alone. ¡°Oh good, you¡¯re here.¡± He spun, hand reaching instinctively for his holster. Luckily the man in the sweaty t-shirt didn¡¯t seem to notice as he passed through the metal detectors, lights flashing green momentarily, but then he gave Mark a real look. ¡°Another new guy, eh?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Hey, man, I just got the munchies real bad, I¡¯ll only be a minute.¡± Squeek, squeek, squeek, went his tennis shoes across the lobby, then the loud screeching cry of the door to the break room. Mark¡¯s heart was running, he could feel the adrenaline he had counted on so often pouring through his veins. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his face. What was with him? Lab. Scientists. Nerds. Geeks. Harmless machines. This was not a combat zone. Was this PTSD? Sighing he shook his head and followed after the man. ¡°That door is totally killer, am I right?¡± Was this guy high? ¡°It¡¯s something else all right. Name¡¯s Mark, sorry about the staring contest in the lobby, you caught me off guard.¡± The man with shaggy hair laughed out loud. ¡°Dude, it¡¯s no biggie. Call me Dan,¡± he extended a hand and Mark shook it. It was wet. ¡°Must get hot in those clean-suits.¡± Laughing again, Dan wiped his hand on his sweaty shirt, probably making it worse, ¡°Bro, I am so sorry! Those things are totally killer! I swear I sweat out a bajillion calories every night. It¡¯s why I get the munchies.¡± Of course it was. Dan was back to focusing on one of the vending machines, a particularly junk-food filled one. ¡°How long have you worked here?¡± ¡°Feels like a lifetime, bro, but I guess,¡± he punched some buttons and swiped a card, ¡°Oh, I guess about three years.¡± Mark suddenly felt old. This kid didn¡¯t look like he could have been working anywhere for three years unless he dropped out of high school. ¡°You like it?¡± ¡°Hell yeah, man! It¡¯s the best job.¡± Mark felt himself turning before he even registered the sound of the door, only barely keeping himself from reaching for the gun on his hip. ¡°Again, Daniel?¡± The lady was incredulous. ¡°Break time is in two hours, can¡¯t you wait?¡± ¡°No way. I was about to pass out.¡± ¡°You¡¯re such a wimp. Get back in there, or I¡¯ll have to write you up.¡± Laughing, Dan passed the woman, saying in an endearing tone, ¡°Darling, you are such a bitch.¡± ¡°Only to assholes,¡± she returned with a sarcastically flirtatious tone. The age difference made the scene that much more entertaining, but Mark didn¡¯t find himself amused. He was still on edge. She looked at him and he nodded in return. ¡°Sorry, they¡¯re not supposed to leave the lab until break time.¡± ¡°Troublemaker?¡± Mark asked honestly. ¡°No, he does good work, when he¡¯s not stoned.¡± ¡°You let him in the lab like that?¡± She took a moment now to look Mark up and down. She was around forty, about his age, but she had likely never been very attractive. Being married made the look she gave him that much more awkward. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± she continued slowly, then seemed to remember Mark¡¯s question, ¡°he is a genius.¡± She rolled her eyes as if she only half believed it. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m Wanda, head of neuro.¡± She extended a hand. It didn¡¯t look slimy. ¡°Mark,¡± he responded, shaking her hand. In fact, she didn¡¯t seem sweaty at all. ¡°I¡¯d better follow the golden child back in, we can talk some more at break time.¡± She turned and let the door close behind her. A second after it closed Mark found himself jumping to the banshee scream once again as she reopened it. ¡°You coming to let us in?¡± She looked at him curiously. Was it obvious he had been surprised? ¡°Right, sorry.¡± He followed her back to the lab entrance. Dan was waiting by the door, dumping the rest of his Skittles into his mouth. The light on the metal detector went green as Wanda passed through. Mark stopped short of it. ¡°Sorry, Dan. It¡¯s my first real day, mind stepping back through the detector?¡± The boy¡¯s jaw actually dropped, a skittle falling out. ¡°Are you..¡± he rolled his eyes, dropped the empty wrapper where he was and pranced, actually pranced, back to the metal detector, and made a big show of going in and out of it a few times, even twirling. The light was green the whole time. ¡°Happy now?¡± His rainbow grin was unbearable. Wanda had buried her face in her hands. Mark stared at Dan, arms down. The punk just stared right back, not even blinking. He was such a hotshot. He screamed like a little girl and fell to his knees, covering his head. Mark held the pistol in his hand casually, pulling back the slide to check the chamber, then dropping the clip, inspecting it, before making a show of slamming it back into place, and holstering the weapon. ¡°Dude! What is wrong with you?!¡± Dan¡¯s voice was high pitched. Wanda was covering her mouth now, though her laughter was still visible. ¡°Just double checking to make sure it¡¯s operational. Never know when you might need to use it.¡± ¡°What kinda wild-ass western quick-draw action was that?!¡± He was still covering his head but was now smiling at Mark. He knew he¡¯d been beaten and was being a rather good sport about it. The metal detector beeped loudly and a red light poured down on him as Mark walked through, stepped over the kneeling Dan, and made his way to the door. The smaller beep of the key fob and Mark pulled the door open. Wanda was grinning and still chuckling as she winked at him and passed through. Dan finally got up and turned around. He had a sly smile on his face, and gave Mark a friendly punch to the shoulder, ¡°You¡¯re alright, bro.¡± Mark watched them walk down the corridor and go through the next door into the room where they¡¯d put on their clean suits. The silence was suddenly overbearing. The door snicked shut, the metal detector beeped loudly, shoes clack-clacked, then he was back in the Security Office, looking at the monitors. There were Wanda and Dan, putting on their clean suits. The monitor switched to one of the lab rooms. It was fourteen on the patrol route, ¡°Respiratory¡±. Two lab technicians were visible in their clean suits. A chill ran up his spine and he swallowed hard. The screen had gone black, suddenly, too quickly. Grabbing a pen and a sticky-note pad he wrote: 14-black 22:04:32, midstream.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. The monitor was showing a different room now, twenty-one. Who had set these up? Mark watched intently. There was the changing room again. Wanda and Dan, mostly dressed, seemed to be talking. Dan was nodding. Fourteen popped back on screen. It wasn¡¯t black, but his unease worsened. Where were the technicians? There had been two of them, hadn¡¯t there? Scanning the other monitors he saw room fifteen, what was it called? Well, there were the technicians, at least he assumed so. There were four in this room, and they were all gathered together chatting about something. They had certainly left their lab in a hurry. Mark only thought for a second before acting. He opened the door to the security corridor and ran down it, bursting into the changing room. Wanda and Dan were just about to exit. ¡°Wait!¡± They turned. ¡°Could you help me out real quick? I need to get this suit on fast.¡± ¡°Something wrong?¡± asked Wanda, at the same time Dan jumped into action, helping Mark get the blue security suit out of its locker. Maybe the kid wasn¡¯t totally useless after all. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, but I need to check on a camera.¡± ¡°Dude, did one go black again?¡± ¡°Yeah, midstream, I saw it turn black.¡± ¡°No shit, man, that¡¯s awesome!¡± Wanda was helping Mark with the arms, and Dan was putting the helmet over his head. This was much faster with two people helping. Mark wasn¡¯t really doing anything at this point. ¡°Oh wait!¡± he had almost forgotten to move the pistol to the outer holster of the suit. Pulling a hand back out, he quickly made the transfer, then put the arm back in the suit. Could he even fire the pistol with these gloves on? He heard the zip and felt a pat on his back. ¡°Go get ¡®em, Captain America!¡± ¡°You¡¯re so weird, Dan,¡± was Wanda blushing in that helmet? Mark didn¡¯t take any time to look closer but headed for the door. ¡°Thanks, guys, really appreciate it.¡± He jogged into the ¡°Nexus¡±, a fairly large room, almost as big as the lobby, that acted as a hub for all the labs. There were various hallways and airlocks that connected the labs in other ways that Mark didn¡¯t understand at all, but from here it was a fairly straight shot to fourteen. Taking the third door from the left, he practically leapt across the small chamber and remembered just in time to slow down and let the chemicals in the air do their job. He forced himself to count to twenty before opening the next door. He could feel the pressure change when it opened, and he moved quickly into the next room. Containers and pods filled the room, along with mobile trays with various instruments on them. Mark tried not to pay much attention to anything, but walking as fast as he was still attracted the attention of the technician in this room. ¡°Something wrong?¡± came a muffled question, with a bit of static. The comms in the suit worked on a proximity basis, automatically connecting with nearby suits to assist in not having to yell through the helmets at each other. The quality was not amazing, but it worked well enough. ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡± Mark paused a moment and looked at the two doors at the back of this room. He started to try and go through the route Jeremy had taken him on but thought better and asked, ¡°Which way to fourteen?¡± There was something along the lines of an ¡°uuuh¡± and Mark realized his mistake, ¡°Respiratory, sorry.¡± ¡°Take the right.¡± Giving the tech a marshmallowy thumbs-up Mark jogged to the right door and went through it. The hallway was barely navigable for all the pipes and conduit going through it, so he made slower progress to the next door, only a couple dozen feet away. He came out into a round room with low plastic-shielded tables, heavy robotic arms extending down to them from the ceiling. Cables ran all over the place in here, overhead and underfoot, though the latter were carefully placed and well covered. Again, he tried not to look too closely at anything. The two techs in this room didn¡¯t notice him, each at a different table using the giant arms to manipulate whatever was inside those plastic shells. There was only one door at the back of this room, and Mark made his way quickly to it. Upon opening the door, however, he found a short hallway that went to the left and right, a door at each end. This place was ridiculous. He was going to ask for a map first thing in the morning. ¡°Which way to Respiratory?¡± Both techs looked up and around the room, surprised. They seemed to notice him at the same time. ¡°Som--ing --ong?¡± ¡°--at are --oking ---¡± The responses came on top of each other and got garbled in the comms. Mark tried again. ¡°Which way to Respiratory?¡± They both pointed right. He waved, and entered the hall, taking the right path. Before he even opened the next door he heard staticky whispers. Pausing only a moment to see if he could understand anything being said, he decided it wouldn¡¯t be worth the effort and pulled the door open. Four techs turned to him as one, going silent. They had moved here, to Respiratory. For at least a full ten seconds they all stood, staring at each other. ¡°Don¡¯t let me interrupt,¡± Mark prompted. The four looked at each other, then back at Mark. ¡°New guy?¡± asked one of them with a rather deep, yet feminine voice. ¡°Mark,¡± he offered with a little wave. No one waved back. ¡°What do you want, Mark?¡± This voice came from the one on the right, short, and nasally. The man was short too. ¡°Just coming to check on things. I saw the camera in here go black.¡± Again, they looked at each other, but then the one on the left made a dismissive hand gesture, ¡°Oh, that. It¡¯s nothing. IT says it¡¯s just a bug in the software.¡± The man was utterly unconvincing, and the response had come too late, practiced but not remembered quick enough to be effective. He seemed to know it as he glanced back at the other techs. Two of them shook their heads and turned, walking to a door at the back of the room. They exited silently. The deep-voiced woman said, ¡°We should get back to work, but let us know if you need anything.¡± She turned to walk away, but then turned back to slap the man lightly on the arm, getting his attention, and pointing to a tube of.. Mark looked away. They moved together back to a mobile tray and began their work. It took him a minute to find the camera. It blended well into the tubes and cables running across the ceiling. He suddenly felt a bit sheepish as he realized there was nothing more he could do. There wasn¡¯t a ladder handy to climb up and get a close look at the thing, and supposedly the IT team had already done so. Then again, the camera seemed a lot less interesting now that he had seen the behavior of the lab technicians. A quick glance showed them involved in their work. The woman was talking again, but it was all directions. ¡°There, that one. Uh huh¡­ good. Now the scalpel. Yes, just like that, nice cut. Do you know what¡¯s next?¡± He must be a new guy. Or maybe just new to this particular task. Looking at the door in the back he considered, then thought better. That nasally man was not going to say a word. Should he question these two? What would he ask? Did a camera going black for a few seconds matter? Then another thought: Had the camera gone black or just the monitor? He turned and made his way back through the maze of rooms. After a few minutes of fighting with the suit, he was back in the Security Office. He pulled up the monitoring software on the PC screen and navigated to the time and camera where it had gone black. The recording was intact. This made a tingling splash in his chest which spread in a wave out through his arms. He watched as the two technicians suddenly paused, looked up in the direction of the camera, then quickly shuffled out of the room towards fifteen. The tingling got worse. He counted. Thirty-three seconds later the four of them entered the room again, two of them pointing at the camera. Then they were talking, arms gesturing angrily. One was making calming gestures to the others. It was the short one. That surprised Mark. Maybe the nasally man would be the right person to talk to after all? They had stopped suddenly, looking at what must be Mark in the doorway. He continued watching another minute after he left the room, but the techs were still working. He switched to fifteen, rewound, and watched the scene play out in there. The two techs from fourteen rushing in, talking for a few seconds with the other two, then they all rushed out together. He sped up the recording until the two returned. They didn¡¯t seem to talk at all, going back to their work. Sitting back, closing his eyes, forcing himself to relax, he replayed the reactions of the lab techs in his mind. It was weird. It didn¡¯t make any sense to him. There was something strange going on here, and every fiber of his body was uncomfortable with it. He would have to chat with Jeremy about it. Certainly, the man knew more than he had let on so far. Mark didn¡¯t think this kind of behavior would have been missed by him. Sighing he rubbed his face. This was ridiculous. Was he going mad? Had he imagined the black screen? The recording didn¡¯t show it, but there was the reactions of the techs at just the same moment, and then their odd behavior when he mentioned it to them. He stood up, picked up the patrol wand, and left the office to make his first official round. Doing his job would have to be enough for now, and he had not been hired to be a detective. There was a number of points throughout the building that had button-like activators that he touched with the wand, which then lit up a small LED to show it had made contact. This would be how they would track that he was making the rounds regularly throughout his shift. Proof that he wasn¡¯t napping in the office. As if that would be possible now. As his shoes echoed through the lobby, the elevator caught his eye. When Jeremy had first told him that the upper floors were off limits for them, it had seemed odd, but he¡¯d brushed it off. The execs and computer nerds didn¡¯t want people poking around up there, and all the really expensive equipment was on this floor. He got it. Now it seemed even more strange to him. Holding up the patrol wand to the small button above the break-room door, he watched the light on the wand flicker on and off. He put his hand on the handle of the door, glanced back at the elevators, pulled the door-SCREEEEE! He heard himself cry out involuntarily as he jumped back. Breathing hard and fast, his heart racing, he found himself holding the gun out at the door. Mark made an angry sound and kicked the door. ¡°Piece of shit!¡± Taking a deep breath he holstered the pistol and reached out and yanked the door open. This was getting out of hand. He had to stop scaring himself. It was buggy software, awkward nerds, execs who liked their privacy, and a door in need of some fucking oil. Nothing more. For the rest of his shift, he forced himself to think about movies, books, games, his family, anything at all except the stupid black monitor. ¡°How did it go?¡± she asked after she had finished hugging and kissing him. ¡°It was¡­ different than I expected.¡± ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Mark nodded. ¡°I¡¯m exhausted.¡± ¡°Well, kids are at school, I reminded them to be silent when they got home, and I¡¯m headed to the office, so you get some sleep.¡± ¡°Thanks, babe, have a good one.¡± He kissed her again and she headed out the door. He climbed the stairs, peeled off his uniform, got in bed, closed his eyes. It was just buggy software. He hadn¡¯t even mentioned it to Jeremy. Day 3, Evening Before Work [Reader Poll] It was raining. Of course it was raining. And the gate wasn¡¯t opening. Of course it wasn¡¯t. Even if Jeremy was watching, the rain probably made it difficult to positively identify his vehicle. Mark wasn¡¯t bothered by rain, it just all seemed so ominous. He really needed to change his frame of mind. What was it with this facility that had him so on edge? He shook his head and opened the truck door. What wasn¡¯t there to put him on edge? He took a step down out of the truck and punched in a code on the sheltered numpad. It had been placed low for convenience. Just not his convenience. There was a buzzing sound and the gate began rolling back. He quickly stepped back up into the truck and shut the door. It was really starting to come down out there. As he rolled through the parking lot slower tonight, he found himself counting the cars out of habit. It wasn¡¯t a perfect count, they were hard to see, but there were at least fifty, probably another dozen he¡¯d missed. Why did that seem like too many? Stop. Just stop. He parked and walked quickly to the doors, which opened before him. Dan stepped out into the downpour, eating a Snickers. ¡°Dude! This rain is amazing!¡± Rolling his eyes, Mark brushed past him and into the warm lobby. He took off his jacket and shook it off over the rugs that were placed in front of the doors, then clack-clacked his way to the office. Beep went the keyfob, snick went the lock, and ¡°Yo, officer, guy, dude!¡± ¡°It¡¯s Mark¡± he called back over his shoulder and quickly entered then shut the office door behind him. His shift didn¡¯t officially start for another five minutes, Dan was still Jeremy¡¯s problem, but Jeremy wasn¡¯t in the office. Throwing his jacket into the corner by the lockers, he turned to go back into the lobby, when a pink piece of paper caught his eye. It was a sticky note, and it was posted to a monitor. It was posted to the monitor. He didn¡¯t have to look any closer to tell it was the one he had written on the night before. He opened the door and he reached up instinctively, catching the wrist of a hand that was coming at him, his other hand grabbed a shoulder and twisted, all before he realized it was Dan, and that the boy had been about to knock on the Security Office door. He let the kid go with a gentle push before he could finish the maneuver. Dan stumbled a bit but laughed at the same time. ¡°Duuuude! You¡¯re like Jason Bourne or some shit!¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Dan?¡± ¡°Nothing, bro, just saying ¡®hi¡¯. Why you so jumpy?¡± ¡°You know where Jeremy is?¡± ¡°Who?¡± He thought a second, ¡°Hatfield, the other security guard.¡± ¡°His name is Jeremy? I always thought it¡¯d be something like.. I dunno, Frank?¡± Mark changed his mind: the kid was useless. Then something else caught his eye. It was another pink sticky note, but this time it was on the reception desk near the door. He started to walk over and heard Dan, ¡°Oh, yeah, that¡¯s what I was going to tell you. Frank needs your help with something, left that note there and told me to tell you. Duh, sorry, man.¡± Clack, clack, clack. Mark picked up the note. Mark, 7-FUBAR 10-78 Ten seventy-eight was a request for assistance. ¡°I need your help again, Dan, come on.¡± Walking towards the metal detector, he motioned for Dan to go ahead. The kid jogged in front, sneakers squeaking across the lobby. Green light. Mark clacked his way through, a loud beep echoed through the lobby and a red light shown on him. Another beep and they were moving down the corridor to the changing room. Dan was once again very helpful getting the security clean suit on. OK, so the kid wasn¡¯t totally useless. ¡°Thanks, Dan, now you better get back to Neuro before Wanda finds you missing.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± came the nonchalant reply. ¡°Oh, what¡¯s the quickest way to--¡± Mark stopped. Which room was seven? Cardio? He shook his head, ¡°Nevermind.¡± He entered the Nexus. Seven wasn¡¯t too far into the route, and he didn¡¯t know those back passageways enough to be sure he wouldn¡¯t get lost, so he would just have to hurry through the route. Why hadn¡¯t Jeremy put the name of the room on the note instead of the route number? Was this a test? Closing his eyes he imagined the route in his mind, mapping out the turns. It had to be through one of the doors on the right. Probably through the second from the right. He entered the door, counted to twenty, then continued through to a room that was fairly benign compared to most of the others. A few computers were set up with several mobile trays covered in Petri dishes, microscopes, and other random tools. He recognized the room as five. That probably saved him a couple minutes. He continued to a door back and to the right, which led to a hallway shaped, he always thought, like a puzzle piece. Six was around a corner, but from there he would have taken a left, so seven was probably this one. He opened a door and stepped inside. The floor was sticky. ¡°Mark! Glad you could make it,¡± came Jeremy¡¯s gravelly voice over the comms. ¡°Yay, backup,¡± and a few unidentified chuckles came through as well. He looked around the room. Five technicians in their white cleanroom suits scattered around the space holding glass jars filled with¡­ somethings. The gloves and boots of the white suits were stained a dark pink, almost red. Broken glass littered half the floor, along with a reddish liquid that Jeremy was in the process of mopping up. Blood didn¡¯t bother Mark, neither did gore. He¡¯d seen the worst wounds that could be inflicted on a person. He had been the cause of many of those wounds. What set his spine tingling, and caused him to glance away from the jars, was the knowledge that he had remembered right, this was the room called ¡°Cardio¡±, but those things were not hearts. They didn¡¯t look like anything you could find inside a human body. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there,¡± he caught the mop as it flew through the air. He began mopping right around where he stood, making a bit of a path towards Jeremy, where the bucket still sat. ¡°Ah! Another one!¡± Instinctively glancing towards the man who was moving into a crouch, Mark watched him reach behind a large pipe that was protruding from the wall. He lifted another one of the things from behind it and placed it in his jar that was already quite full. Mark felt an involuntary shudder go down his back. Had it wriggled? He glanced at Jeremy, but the man was using a set of large tweezers to pick up glass shards and place them on a tray. Getting a hold of himself, Mark asked, ¡°What happened in here?¡± One of the techs who hadn¡¯t moved at all and was hugging his jar looked at Mark. ¡°I¡¯m so screwed,¡± the voice was one of emotionless acceptance. ¡°Stop worrying about it, this kind of stuff happens sometimes,¡± came a soothing female voice, but Mark couldn¡¯t tell which of the other techs had said it. ¡°I know but,¡± the one who had obviously been the cause held up his jar, ¡°look at them.¡± Then he said it again, and there was a hint of a sob in his voice. ¡°Look at them. We can¡¯t just grow these thin--¡± A loud male voice cut him off, ¡°Shut up, Zack.¡± The tone sounded like a threat. It was all Mark could do to concentrate on the mopping. ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± came the female voice again, ¡°accidents happen. You¡¯re not the first person to trip in the labs.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t trip!¡± Zack was yelling, and sounding very emotional now. ¡°Everyone, just calm down,¡± Jeremy¡¯s very reasonable sounding voice broke the tension immediately. ¡°We¡¯ll get this cleaned up, you lot get those things wherever they need to go and take a break. We¡¯ll let you know when we¡¯re done in here.¡± The five lab technicians looked at each other, then turned as one to look at Mark. He pretended not to notice. They began moving together towards a door. Once they were gone, Mark silently counted to thirty before speaking. ¡°So, what did happen in here?¡± He had reached the bucket and was rinsing the mop. It wasn¡¯t very productive.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°Who knows. I¡¯m sure the kid just tripped. Trays got knocked over and the organs ended up all over the floor. Happened just a few minutes before you showed up. I was looking out for you on the cameras, but I noticed the mess and those techs just standing around sucking their thumbs.¡± Mark splashed the mop back down and kept wiping. ¡°So do I get paid a janitor¡¯s salary on top of the security guard, or..?¡± Chuckling, Jeremy shrugged. ¡°Well, usually there¡¯s a janitor on duty twenty-four seven as well. They do all the upstairs cleaning at night, and the occasional mess here in the labs, but the night shift quit a few days ago.¡± A new opportunity occurred to Mark. ¡°Do they need someone emptying the garbages upstairs? I mean as long as I¡¯m mopping up blood and guts, I might as well take care of the upper floors as well.¡± The other man was silent for too long. Mark wasn¡¯t fooling anyone in this room. ¡°I¡¯ll ask Sherman tomorrow, see if they want to give you access.¡± That was not the response he had expected. As long as Jeremy was on to him and not hostile, he might as well go further. ¡°Do you have access?¡± The older man stopped picking up the glass and looked at Mark, a sly smile on his face. ¡°Officially?¡± Mark laughed. ¡°You were wasted in the engineers.¡± ¡°Probably was,¡± and he was back to picking up glass. A few minutes of silent cleaning later he spoke again, ¡°I found your note.¡± ¡°I saw.¡± ¡°Smart idea. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to me to try tracking the blackouts. Of course, I haven¡¯t ever actually seen one.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Well,¡± he started, and groaned a little as he stood up from the floor, ¡°I have seniority here, so I avoid the night shifts as much as possible. I have to admit, until I saw your note, I was partial to IT¡¯s explanation.¡± ¡°Buggy software?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Mark paused and looked at him. ¡°Look, Mark, every officer that comes through here is either a young brat or an old geezer. Closer to permanent retirement than myself by a decade or more. The shifts are long, and, well, it¡¯s an odd environment.¡± Mark nodded to that. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it. IT has never seen it. The recordings never show it. They¡¯ve replaced every piece of hardware, checked cables, and while the reports are consistent, all of the concrete factors aren¡¯t. There¡¯s no reason for it to be happening, so while the official story is ¡®buggy software¡¯, what we¡¯ve really believed is hallucination.¡± ¡°Hallucination? Seriously?¡± The man shrugged again. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of chemicals in here, and the shifts are long and boring, and, well, there¡¯s other signs. Does seem strange for you to be affected your first night, though. I¡¯m not sure I buy that story anymore.¡± Hallucinations. Other signs. Consistent reports. Not sure, but not unconvinced either. Mark thought back to the recording, and the behavior of the scientists. He could play it safe, give it more time, see if anything else happened. Maybe it was just buggy software, though he didn¡¯t believe that at all. He could question the nasally lab tech, maybe he knew something. No, Jeremy was being forthcoming, and it was only fair to return the trust. ¡°Jeremy,¡± Mark started hesitantly, but then he became suddenly confident. ¡°I can prove it¡¯s not a hallucination.¡± The other guard tilted his head. ¡°Really?¡± Mark smiled and nodded. ¡°You didn¡¯t watch it, did you?¡± ¡°No, it never shows up in the recordings, so I didn¡¯t see any reason to.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯ve been looking for the wrong thing.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Mark motioned, ¡°Follow me, I¡¯ll show you.¡± They made their way back through the lab to the changing room, mop, bucket, and jar of glass shards in hand. ¡°Just leave them in here for the janitors, I¡¯ll let them know what happened tomorrow. You go pull up that recording, and I¡¯ll let the others know the room¡¯s as clean as it¡¯s going to get tonight.¡± The older man was quicker at removing the clean suits than Mark, having had much more practice. After Jeremy left through the main doors, Mark took the side Security door to the office. Jeremy came in right as he was pulling up the time and camera in the recording program. ¡°Like you said, I¡¯m the first that thought to track the times, which I¡¯m betting means that all you or IT have been looking for is blackouts in the recordings, which don¡¯t show up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Well, the blackouts might not show up, but something else does.¡± He pointed to the time stamp on the screen to show it was just a few seconds before the time he had written down, then pointed to where one of the techs was standing. ¡°Watch this,¡± Mark hit play. The clock ticked away the seconds, and then it turned over to 22:04:32, and a chill went down Mark¡¯s spine. The lab tech in fourteen was working. They were both working. Five more seconds passed. ¡°What am I watching for?¡± Mark was frozen. His brain refused to process it. He clicked on the controls, rewound, played it again. Nothing happened. The techs never looked at the camera, never left the room. He sped up the recording. Mark never showed up in the room. ¡°This...this isn¡¯t right,¡± he heard himself mumbling. He clicked again, rewound it, changed the camera to room fifteen. He hit play. He watched as the tech in the room worked normally. The others never showed up. ¡°I...I¡­¡± he shook his head. Suddenly Mark was very conscious of the fact that he had never felt this way before. He had never frozen like this before. He had never felt so helpless. He had never known a time when there wasn¡¯t something that he could do. Always when he heard of people freezing up, feeling ¡°clammy¡±, or disoriented in combat situations, he didn¡¯t understand it. It had never happened to him. There was always some damn thing you could do. ¡°You OK, Mark?¡± Jeremy¡¯s voice showed real concern. Almost he left. Almost he stood up and walked right out of that room and never looked back. Almost. Then his attitude change. Almost he grabbed the older man by the neck and forced him to spill out everything he knew. To tell Mark why he¡¯d messed with the recordings. Why was he pretending to be so nice? What was going on in this place? Almost. ¡°You know what, Jeremy? Maybe you and IT aren¡¯t wrong.¡± If Jeremy had messed with the recordings, Mark wouldn¡¯t get anywhere talking to him. If he hadn¡¯t, what could Mark do to convince him of what had happened? ¡°Maybe I just imagined it.¡± He laughed nervously. ¡°Weird, though. Well, I¡¯ll keep writing down the times, in case that helps anything.¡± Jeremy nodded and patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it. If you want my advice, just enjoy the job. It¡¯s no secret at this point that the turn-over here is high. It¡¯s because the others focus too much on the things they don¡¯t understand, and not enough on the people. They¡¯re good people here. Make some friends, enjoy the exercise, and you¡¯ll find this to be a pretty easy going job, with just the right amount of excitement, and nothing trying to kill you.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Thanks, that sounds like great advice.¡± It did. For only his third day in the building, and only one full shift, this job was causing way too much stress already. Maybe he actually had imagined it. ¡°Have a good night, Mark.¡± ¡°You too.¡± The door snicked shut. Mark was alone. Suddenly he sat up straight and looked around, expecting something to jump out at him. It didn¡¯t. He made himself look back at the main screen. The tech in the recording of room fifteen was still working. The tech. One tech. He looked at the live monitor and waited for it to flip over to the current view of room fifteen. There were two lab technicians in the room. Mark reached for the patrol wand, then stood up. Going down that rabbit hole would drive him crazy. Time to focus on his job. He opened the door. Clacks echoed through the lobby. The wand¡¯s light lit up green as he pressed it to the first button. The break room door screamed, but Mark barely noticed. He weaved through the chairs and tables. Green light on the wand again, this time the button between the men¡¯s and lady¡¯s restrooms. Back through the chairs. Banshee door. Echoing clacks. Green light poured down as he passed through the metal detector. Zip went the retracting keyring. Beep went the lock pad. Snick went the lock. Zip went the keyring again. Mark glanced over at his reflection in the one-way glass as he walked down the hallway. That clean-shaven face still seemed unrecognizable to him, like he wasn¡¯t looking at a reflection at all. He opened the next door, walked across the room, and held up the wand to the button on the Security lockers, where the security cleanroom suits were stored. The light on the wand turned green. Green. The light had been green. His hand went instinctively to his holster. The pistol was there. Not five seconds later, he was standing in front of the metal detector. He watched it closely as he stepped in. A loud but low beep echoed through the lobby and a red light shone down on him. Had he imagined this too? He was certain that the light had been green the first time he¡¯d gone through. There hadn¡¯t been a beep. The cameras. They would prove it, they-- Mark looked up at the ceiling. Stepping out into the center of the lobby his eyes followed the corners. It was a high lobby, a good forty feet, but he could see no cameras. Why had it not occurred to him before? All of the cameras were inside the lab. He turned back to the metal detector. Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, boop. He held up the wand in his hand and stared at it. Don¡¯t focus on the things you don¡¯t understand. Focus on the people. Had it really been advice? Or had it been a clue? It was time to get to work. ¡°Don¡¯t forget Tina¡¯s date tonight. James is picking her up at six.¡± Mark smiled, ¡°I¡¯ll be sure and get up in time to put on a good impression.¡± She kissed him. ¡°You seem to be in a good mood, things going well at the lab?¡± ¡°Yeah, made some friends during break time last night.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. Maybe we should bake some cookies tonight for you to take in.¡± He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea.¡± Then he headed upstairs to get some sleep. Day Three It was raining. Of course it was raining. And the gate wasn¡¯t opening. Of course it wasn¡¯t. Even if Jeremy was watching, the rain probably made it difficult to positively identify his vehicle. Mark wasn¡¯t bothered by rain, it just all seemed so ominous. He really needed to change his frame of mind. What was it with this facility that had him so on edge? He shook his head and opened the truck door. What wasn¡¯t there to put him on edge? He took a step down out of the truck and punched in a code on the sheltered numpad. It had been placed low for convenience. Just not his convenience. There was a buzzing sound and the gate began rolling back. He quickly stepped back up into the truck and shut the door. It was really starting to come down out there. As he rolled through the parking lot slower tonight, he found himself counting the cars out of habit. It wasn¡¯t a perfect count, they were hard to see, but there were at least fifty, probably another dozen he¡¯d missed. Why did that seem like too many? Stop. Just stop. He parked and walked quickly to the doors, which opened before him. Dan stepped out into the downpour, eating a Snickers. ¡°Dude! This rain is amazing!¡± Rolling his eyes, Mark brushed past him and into the warm lobby. He took off his jacket and shook it off over the rugs that were placed in front of the doors, then clack-clacked his way to the office. Beep went the keyfob, snick went the lock, and ¡°Yo, officer, guy, dude!¡± ¡°It¡¯s Mark¡± he called back over his shoulder and quickly entered then shut the office door behind him. His shift didn¡¯t officially start for another five minutes, Dan was still Jeremy¡¯s problem. Jeremy wasn¡¯t in the office. Throwing his jacket into the corner by the lockers, he turned to go back into the lobby, but a pink piece of paper caught his eye. It was a sticky note, and it was posted to a monitor. It was posted to the monitor. He didn¡¯t have to look any closer to tell it was the one he had written on the night before. He opened the door and his hand reached up instinctively, catching the wrist of a hand that was coming at him, his other hand grabbed a shoulder and twisted, all before he realized it was Dan, and that the boy had been about to knock on the Security Office door. He let the kid go with a gentle push before he could finish the maneuver. Dan stumbled a bit but laughed at the same time. ¡°Duuuude! You¡¯re like Jason Bourne or some shit!¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Dan?¡± ¡°Nothing, bro, just saying ¡®hi¡¯. Why you so jumpy?¡± ¡°You know where Jeremy is?¡± ¡°Who?¡± He thought a second, ¡°Hatfield, the other security guard.¡± ¡°His name is Jeremy? I always thought it¡¯d be something like.. I dunno, Frank?¡± Mark changed his mind, the kid was useless. Then something else caught his eye. It was another pink sticky note, but this time it was on the reception desk near the door. He started to walk over and heard Dan, ¡°Oh, yeah, that¡¯s what I was going to tell you. Frank needs your help with something, left that note there and told me to tell you. Duh, sorry, man.¡± Clack, clack, clack, Mark picked up the note. Mark, 7-FUBAR 10-78 Ten seventy-eight was a request for assistance. ¡°I need your help again, Dan, come on.¡± Walking towards the motion detector, he motioned for Dan to go ahead. The kid jogged in front, sneakers squeaking across the lobby. Green light. Mark clacked his way through, a loud beep echoed through the lobby and a red light shown on him. Another beep, and they were moving down the corridor to the changing room. Dan was once again very helpful getting the security clean suit on. OK, so the kid wasn¡¯t totally useless. ¡°Thanks, Dan, now you better get back to Neuro before Wanda finds you missing.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± came the nonchalant reply. ¡°Oh, what¡¯s the quickest way to--¡± Mark stopped. Which room was seven? Cardio? He shook his head, ¡°Nevermind.¡± He entered the Nexus. Seven wasn¡¯t too far into the route, and he didn¡¯t know those back passageways enough to be sure he wouldn¡¯t get lost, so he would just have to hurry through the route. Why hadn¡¯t Jeremy put the name of the room on the note instead of the route number? Was this a test? Closing his eyes he imagined the route in his mind, mapping out the turns. It had to be through one of the doors on the right. Probably through the second from the right. He entered the door, counted to twenty, then continued through to a room that was fairly benign compared to most of the others. A few computers were set up around the room, with several mobile trays covered in petri dishes, microscopes, and other random tools. He recognized the room as five. That probably saved him a couple minutes. He continued to a door back and to the right, which lead to a hallway shaped, he always thought, like a puzzle piece. Six was around a corner, but from there he would have taken a left, so seven was probably this one. He opened a door and stepped inside. The floor was sticky. ¡°Mark! Glad you could make it,¡± came Jeremy¡¯s gravelly voice over the comms. ¡°Yay, backup,¡± and a few unidentified chuckles came through as well. He looked around the room. Five technicians in their white cleanroom suits scattered around the space holding glass jars filled with¡­ something. The gloves and boots of the white suits were stained a dark pink, almost red. Broken glass littered half the floor, along with a reddish liquid that Jeremy was in the process of mopping up. Blood didn¡¯t bother, Mark, neither did gore. He¡¯d seen the worst wounds that could be inflicted on a person. He had been the cause of many of those wounds. What set his spine tingling and caused him to glance away from the jars was the knowledge that he had remembered right, this was the room called ¡°Cardio¡±, but those things were not hearts. They didn¡¯t look like anything you could find inside a human body. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there,¡± he caught the mop as it flew through the air. He began mopping right around where he stood, making a bit of a path towards Jeremy, where the bucket still sat. ¡°Ah! Another one!¡± Instinctively glancing towards the man who was moving into a crouch, Mark watched him reach behind a large pipe that was protruding from the wall. He lifted another one of the things from behind it and placed it in his jar that was already quite full. Mark felt an involuntary shudder go down his back. Had it wriggled? He glanced at Jeremy, but the man was using a set of large tweezers to pick up glass shards and place them on a tray. Getting a hold of himself, Mark asked, ¡°What happened in here?¡± One of the techs who hadn¡¯t moved at all and was hugging his jar looked at Mark. ¡°I¡¯m so screwed,¡± the voice was one of emotionless acceptance. ¡°Stop worrying about it, this kind of stuff happens sometimes,¡± came a soothing female voice, but Mark couldn¡¯t tell which of the other techs had said it. ¡°I know but,¡± the one who had obviously been the cause held up his jar, ¡°look at them.¡± Then he said it again, and there was a hint of a sob in his voice. ¡°Look at them. We can¡¯t just grow these thin--¡± A loud male voice cut him off, ¡°Shut up, Zack.¡± The tone sounded like a threat. It was all Mark could do to concentrate on the mopping. ¡°It¡¯s OK,¡± came the female voice again, ¡°accidents happen. You¡¯re not the first person to trip in the labs.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t trip!¡± Zack was yelling, and sounding very emotional. ¡°Everyone just calm down,¡± Jeremy¡¯s very reasonable sounding voice broke the tension immediately. ¡°We¡¯ll get this cleaned up, you lot get those things wherever they need to go, and take a break. We¡¯ll let you know when we¡¯re done in here.¡± The five lab technicians looked at each other, then turned as one to look at Mark. He pretended not to notice. They began moving together towards a door. Once they were gone, Mark silently counted to thirty before speaking. ¡°So, what did happen in here?¡± He had reached the bucket and was rinsing the mop. It wasn¡¯t very productive. ¡°Who knows. I¡¯m sure the kid just tripped. Trays got knocked over and the organs ended up all over the floor. Happened just a few minutes before you showed up. I was looking out for you on the cameras, but I noticed the mess and those techs just standing around sucking their thumbs.¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Mark splashed the mop back down and kept wiping. ¡°So do I get paid a janitor¡¯s salary on top of the security guard, or..?¡± Chuckling, Jeremy shrugged. ¡°Well, usually there¡¯s a janitor on duty twenty-four seven as well. They do all the upstairs cleaning at night, and the occasional mess here in the labs, but the night shift quit a few days ago.¡± A new opportunity occurred to Mark. ¡°Do they need someone emptying the garbages upstairs? I mean as long as I¡¯m mopping up blood and guts, I might as well take care of the upper floors as well.¡± The other man was silent for too long. Mark wasn¡¯t fooling anyone in this room. ¡°I¡¯ll ask Sherman tomorrow, see if they want to give you access.¡± That was not the response he had expected. As long as Jeremy was on to him and not hostile, he might as well go further. ¡°Do you have access?¡± The older man stopped picking up glass and looked up at Mark, a sly smile on his face. ¡°Officially?¡± Mark laughed. ¡°You were wasted in the engineers.¡± ¡°Probably was,¡± and he was back to picking up glass. A few minutes of silent cleaning later he spoke again, ¡°I found your note.¡± ¡°I saw.¡± ¡°Smart idea. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to me to try tracking the blackouts. Of course I haven¡¯t ever actually seen one.¡± ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Well,¡± he started, and groaned a little as he stood up from the floor, ¡°I have seniority here, so I avoid the night shifts as much as possible. I have to admit, until I saw your note, I was partial to IT¡¯s explanation.¡± ¡°Buggy software?¡± ¡°Nope.¡± Mark paused and looked at him. ¡°Look, Mark, every officer that comes through here is either a young brat or an old geezer. Closer to permanent retirement than myself by a decade or more. The shifts are long, and, well, it¡¯s an odd environment.¡± Mark nodded to that. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen it. IT has never seen it. The recordings never show it. They¡¯ve replaced every piece of hardware, checked cables, and while the reports are consistent, all of the concrete factors aren¡¯t. There¡¯s no reason for it to be happening, so while the official story is ¡®buggy software¡¯, what we¡¯ve really believed is hallucination.¡± ¡°Hallucination? Seriously?¡± The man shrugged again. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of chemicals in here, and the shifts are long and boring, and, well, there¡¯s other signs. Does seem strange for you to be affected your first night, though. I¡¯m not sure I buy that story anymore.¡± Hallucinations. Other signs. Consistent reports. Not sure, but not unconvinced either. Mark thought back to the recording, and the behavior of the scientists. He could play it safe, give it more time, see if anything else happened. Maybe it was just buggy software, though he didn¡¯t believe that at all. He could question the nasally lab tech, maybe he knew something. No, Jeremy was being forthcoming, and it was only fair to return the trust. ¡°Jeremy,¡± Mark started hesitantly, but then he became suddenly confident. ¡°I can prove it¡¯s not a hallucination.¡± The other guard tilted his head. ¡°Really?¡± Mark smiled and nodded. ¡°You didn¡¯t watch it, did you?¡± ¡°No, it never shows up in the recordings, so I didn¡¯t see any reason to.¡± ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯ve been looking for the wrong thing.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Mark motioned, ¡°Follow me, I¡¯ll show you.¡± They made their way back through the lab to the changing room, mop, bucket, and jar of glass shards in hand. ¡°Just leave them in here for the janitors, I¡¯ll let them know what happened tomorrow. You go pull up that recording, and I¡¯ll let the others know the room¡¯s as clean as it¡¯s going to get tonight.¡± The older man was quicker at removing the clean suits than Mark, having had much more practice. After Jeremy left through the main doors, Mark took the side Security door to the office. Jeremy came in right as he was pulling up the time and camera in the recording program. ¡°Like you said, I¡¯m the first that thought to track the times, which I¡¯m betting means that all you or IT have been looking for is blackouts in the recordings, which don¡¯t show up.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± ¡°Well, the blackouts might not show up, but something else does.¡± He pointed to the time stamp on the screen to show it was just a few seconds before the time he had written down, then pointed to where one of the techs was standing. ¡°Watch this,¡± Mark hit play. The clock ticked away the seconds, and then it turned over to 22:04:32, and a chill went down Mark¡¯s spine. The lab tech in fourteen was working. They were both working. Five more seconds passed. ¡°What am I watching for?¡± Mark was frozen. His brain refused to process it. He clicked on the controls, rewound, played it again. Nothing happened. The techs never looked at the camera, never left the room. He sped up the recording. Mark never showed up in the room. ¡°This...this isn¡¯t right,¡± he heard himself mumbling. He clicked again, rewound it, changed the camera to room fifteen. He hit play. He watched as the tech in the room worked normally. The others never showed up. ¡°I...I¡­¡± he shook his head. Suddenly Mark was very conscious of the fact that he had never felt this way before. He had never frozen like this before. He had never felt so helpless. He had never known a time when there wasn¡¯t something that he could do. Always when he heard of people freezing up, feeling ¡°clammy¡±, or disoriented in combat situations, he didn¡¯t understand it. It had never happened to him. There was always some damn thing you could do. ¡°You OK, Mark?¡± Jeremy¡¯s voice showed real concern. Almost he left. Almost he stood up and walked right out of that room and never looked back. Almost. Then his attitude change. Almost he grabbed the older man by the neck and forced him to spill out everything he knew. To tell Mark why he¡¯d messed with the recordings. Why was he pretending to be so nice? What was going on in this place? Almost. ¡°You know what, Jeremy? Maybe you and IT aren¡¯t wrong.¡± If Jeremy had messed with the recordings, Mark wouldn¡¯t get anywhere talking to him. If he hadn¡¯t, what could Mark do to convince him of what had happened? ¡°Maybe I just imagined it.¡± He laughed nervously. ¡°Weird, though. Well, I¡¯ll keep writing down the times, in case that helps anything.¡± Jeremy nodded and patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t worry too much about it. If you want my advice, just enjoy the job. It¡¯s no secret at this point that the turn-over here is high. It¡¯s because the others focus too much on the things they don¡¯t understand, and not enough on the people. They¡¯re good people here. Make some friends, enjoy the exercise, and you¡¯ll find this to be a pretty easy going job, with just the right amount of excitement, and nothing trying to kill you.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Thanks, that sounds like great advice.¡± It did. For only his third day in the building, and only one full shift, this job was causing way too much stress already. Maybe he actually had imagined it. ¡°Have a good night, Mark.¡± ¡°You too.¡± The door snicked shut. Mark was alone. Suddenly he sat up straight and looked around, expecting something to jump out at him. It didn¡¯t. He made himself look back at the main screen. The tech in the recording of room fifteen was still working. The tech. One tech. He looked at the live monitor and waited for it to flip over to the current view of room fifteen. There were two lab technicians in the room. Mark reached for the patrol wand, then stood up. Going down that rabbit hole would drive him crazy. Time to focus on his job. He opened the door. Clacks echoed through the lobby. The wand¡¯s light lit up green as he pressed it to the first button. The break room door screamed, but Mark barely noticed. He weaved through the chairs and tables. Green light on the wand again, this time the button between the men¡¯s and lady¡¯s restrooms. Back through the chairs. Banshee door. Echoing clacks. Green light poured down as he passed through the metal detector. Zip went the retracting keyring. Beep went the lockpad. Snick went the lock. Zip went the keyring again. Mark glanced over at his reflection in the one-way glass as he walked down the hallway. That clean-shaven face still seemed unrecognizable to him, like he wasn¡¯t looking at a reflection at all. He opened the next door, walked across the room, and held up the wand to the button on the Security lockers, where the security cleanroom suits were stored. The light on the wand turned green. Green. The light had been green. His hand went instinctively to his holster. The pistol was there. Not five seconds later, he was standing in front of the metal detector. He watched it closely as he stepped in. A loud but low beep echoed through the lobby and a red light shone down on him. Had he imagined this too? He was certain that the light had been green the first time he¡¯d gone through. There hadn¡¯t been a beep. The cameras. They would prove it, they-- Mark looked up at the ceiling. Stepping out into the center of the lobby his eyes followed the corners. It was a high lobby, a good forty feet, but he could see no cameras. Why had it not occurred to him before? All of the cameras were inside the lab. He turned back to the metal detectors. Clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, clack, boop. He held up the wand in his hand and stared at it. Don¡¯t focus on the things you don¡¯t understand. Focus on the people. Had it really been advice? Or had it been a clue? It was time to get to work. ¡°Don¡¯t forget Tina¡¯s date tonight. James is picking her up at six.¡± Mark smiled, ¡°I¡¯ll be sure and get up in time to put on a good impression.¡± She kissed him. ¡°You seem to be in a good mood, things going well at the lab?¡± ¡°Yeah, made some friends during break time last night.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. Maybe we should bake some cookies tonight for you to take in.¡± He nodded. ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea.¡± Then he headed upstairs to get some sleep. Day 4, Evening Before Work [Reader Poll] He opened the door. ¡°Hello, Mr. Emerson.¡± ¡°How are you James?¡± The boy smiled nervously and shrugged. ¡°Good, I guess.¡± Mark raised an eyebrow. ¡°You¡¯re taking my daughter to Homecoming tonight.¡± He nodded, then his eyes went wide, ¡°Right! Yes, I¡¯m doing awesome. Best day of my life, sir.¡± ¡°That¡¯s more like it. Well, come on in then.¡± Mark stood aside and let the kid in. ¡°Make yourself comfortable, she¡¯ll probably be a few minutes.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± James had always been respectful to him. Whether it was James¡¯ way, or it was just Mark who got this treatment, he didn¡¯t know.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. Mark was wondering how the kid could stand wearing such a painfully baby-blue tuxedo, when Tina appeared on the landing. ¡°Is he here?¡± She was looking down at him, wearing the same baby-blue in dress form. The dad in him wanted to say something about her dress being indecent, and the joker in him wanted to say something about James maybe not being all here, but he repressed both responses. ¡°He¡¯s right here waiting for you.¡± James stood and turned to look up at her. ¡°You are gorgeous, Tin.¡± She smiled. ¡°Thank you, James, I love that tux!¡± She made her way down, going straight for Mark and giving him a hug. ¡°Have a good night at work, Daddy!¡± ¡°Hey, hey, you¡¯re not going anywhere yet.¡± He held up his phone. ¡°Your mother will kill me if I don¡¯t get a picture of you two.¡± They each put an arm around the other. He took a picture. ¡°All right, get out of here, and have way too much fun.¡± They both laughed, said some thanks, and were gone. His stomach growled. Time for ¡°breakfast¡±. And then, he¡¯d make some cookies. Day Four, Part One It wasn¡¯t raining this time. Mark had a plate of cookies on the chair next to him, and was whistling along with the music in the truck. Every time an image of the monitor or a memory of the labs popped into his mind, he quickly thought of something else. Whatever was going on, if something was going on, Jeremy had certainly been right. There was no sense in uselessly wondering about things he couldn¡¯t explain, and confusing or stressing himself out about them was the least helpful thing he could do. He had to focus on something productive: the people who did know. The gate opened as he pulled up. That was a good start to the shift. He didn¡¯t even let himself focus on the other cars, but just pulled right into the stall closest to the door, picked up the plate, and made his way inside. This time as he crossed the lobby, it was silent. He had worn his rubber-soled boots tonight. They weren¡¯t what he had been asked to wear with the uniform, but he guessed that it was unlikely anyone would even notice. ¡°Nice boots.¡± Except Jeremy, of course. The older man was in the center of the lobby. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have,¡± he said looking at the cookies with a smile. ¡°Haha, nice try. You¡¯re welcome to have one, I guess, but the rest are for Zack. Figured the kid could do with some cheering up after the spill yesterday.¡± ¡°That¡¯s real nice of you, Mark.¡± He seemed genuinely impressed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry to say that Sherman wasn¡¯t too keen on the guard-as-janitor idea.¡± ¡°Ah, well, their loss.¡± ¡°No doubt.¡± The two men locked eyes, and Jeremy¡¯s face got serious. ¡°Sherman did tell me, however, that he has started paying the regular janitor extra to come in a couple hours early. So you should expect him to show up at 4 AM.¡± Mark nodded, ¡°Good to know.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget it.¡± Nodding again, Mark got a sense that there was more to this conversation than he was aware of. ¡°Well, since you¡¯re here, and everything¡¯s quiet, you mind if I duck out a few minutes early?¡± ¡°Not at all.¡± With a single nod, Jeremy passed him, shoes tap-tapping across the floor, then out the door. There was a beep, and a snick, and Mark opened the door to the Security Office. He pulled up the single outdoor camera on the main screen and watched a few seconds before the parking lot gate opened, then a couple seconds later Jeremy¡¯s SUV passed through and onto the visible road, the gate closing behind it. Setting down the cookies, Mark turned and went back out into the lobby, crossed silently towards the main doors. About halfway across he heard a light ¡°click¡± sound from behind him. He turned, forcing himself to not overreact. The Security Office door was closed. It was the same sound he had heard several times from the other side. That must have been it. For the first time he didn¡¯t have noisy shoes hiding the sound of the door closing from this side. He turned and continued out to his truck. Opening the passenger door he retrieved a duffle bag and brought it back inside to the Security Office. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a Kel-Tec KSG tactical shotgun. It was on a sling. He opened his locker, lifted the heavy jacket he had in it, and hung the shotgun, then replaced the coat over the weapon. He still hadn¡¯t bought a padlock for the locker, not feeling any need to do so, and he wasn¡¯t going to add one now. It would just look suspicious. Besides, he reminded himself, he hadn¡¯t brought the shotgun because he was paranoid. He had brought it just to be ready for anything. Precious seconds wasted opening a padlock may be the difference between the gun being useful and useless. As proof to himself that he wasn¡¯t paranoid, he hadn¡¯t brought any extra shells. The gun could hold twelve in its double ammo tubes, plus one in the chamber. Which there was. Plenty for any critical situation this lab might offer. Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a small canister. He exited the Security Office and crossed the lobby in silence, except for the small click of the door closing behind him. Flicking open a tube on the conister, he pointed it right at the hinges on the break room door and pulled the trigger, applying a liberal coating of WD-40 to all three of them. Gripping the handle, he tested the door. It made a slight screech at first, but with a few swings it was silent as the grave. Or at least, as silent as something else that was quiet and not so ominous. Smiling, Mark returned to the office, put the can back in the duffle, then returned the duffle to his truck. Back in the Security Office again, he reached for the patrol wand, then stopped. Being the same color as the desk, the card underneath the wand had gone unnoticed until now. Mark picked up the wand, then the card. It was credit-card sized, and plastic, but had an oblong hole in one side. A security badge of some sort? But there were no markings on it, it was blank. ¡°Janitor... 4AM¡­ Don¡¯t forget it.¡± Mark remembered Jeremy¡¯s words, and the hidden message was suddenly clear. Unless he had completely misread the old soldier, this badge would unlock the elevator. Jeremy wanted to be sure Mark didn¡¯t get caught on the upper floors by the early janitor. Another thought occured to Mark. He left the office and glanced towards the lab door, then around the lobby. He was alone. Following the wall he passed the elevator, there was the click, and came up to the HR office. He looked at the reader on the door frame. It was a risk. The only person who ever accessed this room was Sherman, and he was on a pretty regular routine, in at nine every morning. If the badge didn¡¯t work, it would be obvious to anyone that might be monitoring the lock¡¯s logs, and the badge would probably be traced down and deactivated. But if it worked, the type of information Mark would have access to in that office could come in handy. If there was a reason. He decided to wait. He¡¯d check the upper floors after the break, and see if there was any reason to go poking around further. That lead Mark to wonder why Jeremy had even left him the badge. There could really only be two answers. Either Jeremy knew something nefarious was going on in this place, and wanted Mark to find out about it, counting on the younger man¡¯s skills to be helpful in exposing whatever that might be; or Jeremy could tell Mark was suspicious, and he hoped that giving him access to the entire building would help assuage his concerns. Mark truly hoped it was the latter. Slipping the badge into his pocket, Mark started his first patrol. Things were going well, several of the lab technicians even greeted him, he asked how they were doing. For the first time, he almost felt like he was just a security guard at a typical lab. If only the items in the tanks, jars, and other containers didn¡¯t creep him out so much. Once again his mind was wandering to try and figure out what exactly was going on in this place, and he had to stop it. The people. You can understand the people. They can help you understand the rest. A few minutes into the patrol he entered Cardio, the seventh lab room on the route. The place looked clean, and a single tech was sitting at a white desk, entering some data into some unrecognizable software on the computer there. All of the mobile trays in the room were empty, not even a jar was present. ¡°Zack?¡± Mark asked, not sure if it was the same tech as the night before. The tech turned and looked at Mark, then went back to typing. It was Zack.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Sorry to interrupt if you¡¯re busy, I was--¡± ¡°I am busy.¡± Came a curt reply, then a his fingers stopped. ¡°But, I¡¯m sorry, it¡¯s OK. What can I do for you? Mark wasn¡¯t it?¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Yeah, I can talk later if it¡¯s a problem.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine. I owe you, I suppose. Thanks for the help yesterday.¡± Making a dismissive wave, Mark continued, ¡°Not a problem. Glad to see you¡¯re still here.¡± He wanted to ask about the things in the jars. He wanted to ask about the cameras, and about a dozen other things, but he was patient. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you, but I wanted to let you know that I brought you something. I¡¯ll give it to you at break time.¡± The man¡¯s eyes stared blankly back at him from behind thick plastic and large glasses. ¡°You brought me something?¡± The question was formed awkwardly. ¡°It¡¯s nothing special, just some cookies. You seemed so worried yesterday, just wanted to help you feel better.¡± This got a surprising response, as the man¡¯s eyes widened and he cocked his head, asking almost eagerly, ¡°They aren¡¯t gluten free, are they?¡± Pausing, Mark thought a moment. He hoped this hadn¡¯t been a waste of time. ¡°Umn, no, they¡¯re not. Sorry if-¡± ¡°Oh, thank god.¡± The man actually laughed. ¡°My wife has been keeping us both on this gluten free diet. It¡¯s absolutely miserable.¡± Smiling, Mark passed by Zack, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I got you the good stuff. See you at break time.¡± Zack made a small wave and went back to his work. Mark swiped the wand against the button on the next door frame. A little light glowed green and he went through the door, continuing his patrol. Two hours later, Mark was standing by the metal detectors as lab techs streamed through. Their mood was the same it always was, but for the first time Mark was calm enough to really notice. They were, it seemed, happy. They chatted excitedly to each other about TV shows and video games. The first one through was Dan, and he had attempted to give Mark a high-five, not relenting until Mark obliged, which started the trend. The rest of them were high-fiving Mark as they passed. Dan then cried out. ¡°Duuude! You¡¯re the best!¡± He was standing at the break room door, swinging it open and closed. Several of the techs started clapping. It was such a cheery scene, that Mark almost missed it. Without years of experience dealing with dangerous people, and recognizing the body language, the facial signs, he probably would have. They were all faking it. The smiles, the laughs, the friendly chatter and banter, it was all surface. They were trying to convince themselves and each other that everything was fine. Then came some that weren¡¯t even bothering to try, which really broke the facade. The high-fives stopped, and the chatter of the stream of scientists died to murmurs, only sometimes interspersed with more friendly tones. Zack nodded to Mark as he passed by, ¡°I¡¯ll grab a seat by the door.¡± Mark nodded in response. After everyone had passed through the metal detectors, green light the whole time, and into the break room, Mark returned to the Security Office, grabbed the cookies and made his way across the silent lobby. He reached for the door, but paused. His mind raced. Something was missing. What was he expecting? Not the screeching door, he¡¯d solved that. Spinning on his heel he glanced around the lobby. Nothing seemed out of place. He took a deep breath, then opened the break room door. The noise of dozens of people talking and eating filled the air. He entered the room. Microwaves were buzzing and beeping; vending machines clunking; chairs shuffling; utensils poking and cutting; all the noises of a cafeteria. There was Zack, with a lunch bag retrieved from a fridge, a paltry, no doubt gluten-free meal in front of him. Outside of the suit, he looked older than Mark had expected, probably in his mid-thirties, maybe even pushing forty. He sat down across from the man and set down the plate between them. ¡°Dig in.¡± With a slim grin the pencil-thin scientist removed the plastic wrap and picked up a chocolate chip cookie. ¡°Thanks again, Mark, I can¡¯t believe how excited I am to eat a cookie.¡± ¡°Looks like you could use it,¡± Mark said with a smile. He chuckled between bites then said, ¡°No, the diet isn¡¯t that bad. I¡¯ve always had an overactive metabolism.¡± Mark was pretty sure he could crush the other man¡¯s upper arm with a single hand. That didn¡¯t seem normal. As he looked around the cafeteria he noticed that Zack wasn¡¯t in the minority. It seemed that a good three-fourths of the room either suffered from malnourishment or obesity. It was stress. He could see it in the faces, hear it in the voices, he could even smell it in the sweaty atmosphere. ¡°So tell, me, Zack, how long have you been working here?¡± He munched a few more bites of a cookie, looking thoughtful. ¡°Oh, I guess, going on two years? Yes, I suppose it has been that long.¡± This seemed to surprise Zack, though because it was too long or too short, Mark couldn¡¯t tell. ¡°Given the hours and the environment, you must either really enjoy it or it must pay extremely well.¡± ¡°Well,¡± he started, then thought a moment, ¡°At first, I really enjoyed it. We¡¯re working with cutting edge stuff here. I wouldn¡¯t get to work with this kind of stuff anywhere else. But in the long run, I suppose it¡¯s the pay that keeps me here. They do pay extremely well.¡± This point had been brought up enough times that Mark was curious. ¡°Mind if I ask how well?¡± he said in a quieter voice that he was pretty sure, given the noise in the room, only Zack could here. Zack seemed a bit nervous and glanced around. Mark was about to shrug and tell him not to worry about it, not wanting to get off on the wrong foot, but just then Zack put his elbow up on the table, leaning a bit to cover his other hand, which he had brought up near his chest and using his fingers made a three, then a five, then a zero. Three hundred fifty? ¡°K?¡± Mark asked, meaning kilo, or thousand. Zack got it, and nodded. Mark kept a poker face, but his mind was reeling. That wasn¡¯t good pay. That was bribery. Like blackmail, but in reverse, a way of keeping people silent with a really, really big carrot. And that was with only two years. How much was Wanda making? Suddenly, he thought that Zack had been the right person to pick. The stress of losing that kind of income, if the lab tech was still worried about his job, just might give Mark the opening he needed, and no one else was likely to say a peep for fear of losing their paycheck. He felt a little bad about it, but he knew now what he had to do. He had to stoke Zack¡¯s fear of being fired. First a few more questions to keep him from getting suspicious. ¡°So, how long have you been married?¡± ¡°Three years this next January. You?¡± He had noticed Mark¡¯s ring. ¡°Twenty three years.¡± ¡°Wow, that¡¯s amazing. Any kids?¡± ¡°Yeah, three. Boy in college, girl in highschool, and another girl just getting into middle-school.¡± ¡°We¡¯re still waiting.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Well, I better get back to the lobby. Thanks for the little chat, Zack, it was nice to get to know you. Shame about that accident yesterday, but hope the cookies helped.¡± The man¡¯s smile faded a little bit. ¡°Yeah, thanks again.¡± Mark got up and left the room. As the door closed behind him the silence returned, with only a low murmur of activity making it through into the lobby. This door did an impressive job of blocking out all that noise. About thirty minutes later Mark was closing the door behind the last scientist. He double checked the break room and the bathrooms, then was back in the lobby staring at the elevator. It was time to see what secrets the upper floors contained. He held the white keycard up to the reader, it beeped and a green light lit up. The elevator doors opened. He quickly passed through the opening, spun and hit the button with two triangles pointed at each other. Before the door was even all the way open, it was closing again. Now he paused, looking at the set of floor buttons. The were arranged vertically, but did not have numbers on them. From top to bottom they read: E M L B. Surely the ¡°L¡± stood for lobby, as the LED screen currently showed that letter. So there were two upper floors, and a basement. Now the only question was where to start. Day 4, Where to Start? [Reader Poll] It suddenly occurred to Mark, as his finger reached out to push a button on the elevator panel, that he should be bringing his shotgun with him. The thought made him uncomfortable. He was trying to remind himself that he was looking for nothing, and hoping to find it. If he took the shotgun, it would require some explaining if he was discovered. Who knew if everyone had even gone home up there, after all. It was really late, but maybe some exec or IT man usually stayed late. It was possible. They may have even left while he was out on patrol on previous nights. There was also, as unlikely as it already was, the increased chance of him being discovered by some tech that had left the lab.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. No, he had nothing to fear, and just having the more powerful weapon with him was likely to make him more jumpy, not less. A shotgun blast to a squeaky door would be impossible to satisfactorily explain. Taking a deep breath, Mark reached out and pressed a button. Day Four, Part Two The button lit up and the elevator started moving. At least Mark assumed it was moving. The ride was very smooth and quiet, but after a few seconds the LCD screen changed from ¡°L¡± to ¡°M¡±. There was a ding and the door opened. Mark stepped out into a dimly lit office hallway that stretched left and right. The lights were all off except for a single security light near the end of the hall to his left, maybe thirty feet away. That end appeared to fork off in both directions in a T intersection. To the right the hallway was longer and ended in a metal door. Pulling the small flashlight from his belt he pushed a button and a circle of light lit up the hallway a little more. He forced himself to keep his hand off the pistol. Even from this distance and in the dark he could see the badge reader on the metal door. Left first, then. As he walked down the carpeted floor he took in the silence. It wasn¡¯t complete; there was a definite background hum of machinery and the slight buzzing of the security light. As he approached the corner, passing under the security light, he slowed a little. The light was significantly less down each side of the fork. He fought down instincts that were screaming at him to stay in cover and stepped out into the cross of the T intersection. He glanced left first, seeing the hallway end only fifteen feet away, a bathroom sign next to a door on the left. He assumed it was a single-user restroom. Glancing right he saw more light coming from another turn at the end of the hall, likely another security light down that hallway. Between this section and that turn were two doors on the right. He let his training win out this time, and moved left first to check the bathroom and start to clear the floor in a methodical manner. Gripping the handle he paused. Would it squeak like the break room had? The pause gave him the moment he needed to notice something else. Above the handle there was another metal circle used for the deadbolt on the door. This side showed a rotating message to display whether or not the door was locked. The message was red, and showed the word ¡°Occupied¡±. Chills sweeping down his back Mark slowly, quietly, let go of the handle. Once he removed his hand, his eyes scanned the door frame. No light appeared to be coming from the edges, but the door might be sealed well enough to close off light. His head spun. He nervously checked over his shoulder down the hallway. Nothing there. Someone was in there. It was a deadbolt, it couldn¡¯t be accidentally left locked. Unless there was another way out? That didn¡¯t make any sense. He stayed there, risking discovery should someone leave the bathroom, so that he could listen. No sound came through the door. Mark realized his hand was on the pistol grip. Counting two more minutes out, he mentally shook himself out of the paralyzation. There must be another explanation. The bathroom was out of order. The sign on the lock was broken. Someone had stayed late and then fallen asleep reading a magazine on the toilet. Letting go of the pistol he raised his right hand to the door in a fist and knocked. It was stupid. It was ridiculous. It was the only action he could take to keep himself sane. Preparing to make a quick dash around the corner if he heard any human sounds, he put his ear to the door. Let whoever was in there think they were hearing things. If anyone was in there. The quiet hum of machinery was oppressing in its solitude. No sound came from the other side. He reached for the handle again and tried it. Locked. Locked? Rage exploded inside him and it was all he could do to contain himself. He knew the response. It was the same response he¡¯d felt in the Security Office in response to the terror rising within when the camera recording had betrayed him. He had a natural desire to lash out to fix the problem. He could break down the door. Where would that get him? What if there was someone in there, now sitting terrified on a toilet seat because they were certain they were alone on this floor that no one else in the building should have access to? A few deep breaths later, he turned his back on the bathroom and shone the light towards the other doors. He stepped quietly as he stepped sideways down the wall, regularly checking on the bathroom. The first door was wooden and had no apparently lock on it. He put his ear to the door and listened. The humming was slightly louder here. The door also felt a bit cool. He reached out and slowly turned the handle. A sliver of light appeared through the crack as the door opened. Mark paused with just that small sliver. The air coming through the crack was noticeably cool. This must be a server room. That would explain the light as well. Ten seconds went by with no sound, so he opened the door slowly. The room was thin, but deep, and he guessed it to be the source of most of the humming. Tall, black metal boxes ran down the middle of the room, a few feet on either side of them. Cabling of various colors ran along the ceiling and walls before disappearing into conduit that poked out from every surface. He closed the door behind him, almost regrettably. He badly wanted to watch that bathroom door, but at the same time, what would he say if someone emerged from it? He had no excuses for his presence. The room was plenty bright enough that he turned off the flashlight and secured it to his belt. As Mark made his way around the server racks in the center of the room, he considered the size and use of the room. He was no techie, but he¡¯d seen enough rooms like this in his career that the sheer size of this one impressed him. It must run the greater length of the first hallway, and while the cages on the racks were closed, and the few he tried locked, it was clear that they were all full. Either the executive floor had a lot more going on up there than he expected, or the lab technicians were using a lot of processing power for whatever work they were doing. Or was it simply storage? Were all of the camera¡¯s recording history on these drives? Rounding the end of the row and coming back down the other side was uneventful. Other than the actual entrance door, the place had been locked up tight, and though there were a few mobile carts with monitors, mice, and keyboards, there was nothing to plug them into. Mark closed one eye as he finished the last half of the walkway. The cool air in the room was starting to make bumps appear on his arms. He kept a mental note of the size of the server room, thirty racks in all, grouped in two sets of six, with a single cage separated from the others at the end. He reached for the handle, and thought again of the bathroom. From experience, he knew that if he was found, it was best to look like he belonged. He opened the door and strode casually into the hallway, opening his eye as he did so. The darkness was deeper than it had been before, his one eye used to the bright light in the server room, but his other eye had been ready for that darkness, and Mark could clearly see that the hallway was empty. Gripping his flashlight once again, he flashed it towards the lock on the bathroom. From here he could barely make out that it was still red. He turned and moved towards the next door. This one also had no lock on it. A slow turn and the door opened. No light, no moving air. Opening the door more, he flashed the immediate wall, saw a switch but left it off. The beam of light scanned the room as he finished opening the door. Walls were lined with desks, which in turn were filled with cables, various hardware and electronic parts, random tools, but no people in sight. A couple of the desks had monitors that were on, lazy lines of a screen saver bouncing around them. This was undoubtedly the IT Office. Mark entered and closed the door behind him. Navigating the room carefully, he approached the first computer and hit spacebar on the keyboard. The monitor lit up and showed a login screen. Grimacing, he turned, took a few steps, and hit another key. The same image appeared on the other monitor. It was what he¡¯d expected, but not what he hoped for. He left the room, glancing once again towards the bathroom. Still closed. He stepped towards it until he could see the red sign in the deadbolt, then turned towards the lit hallway behind him. Walking confidently, he rounded the corner, only to find a hallway just like the first, same metal door at the end. This one had one more door near the end, on the right. Approaching quietly, he tried the lockless door. It opened and revealed a large closet full of various cleaning supplies and shelves with various tool kits; boxes of various pipe fittings; and even some gas masks hanging near the door. He glanced to his left at the locked metal door. Pulling the keycard from his pocket, he reached over and tried it on the reader. A beep and small green light, but Mark didn¡¯t open the door, instead glancing back into the maintenance closet at the gas masks on the shelves. They were a bit beat up. Well used. He entered the room and looked behind the door, finding exactly what he expected. Hazmat suits. He picked up one of the gas masks, but didn¡¯t put it on. Closing the door, he turned back to the metal one, beeped the card, and opened it. The sound of machinery exploded into the relative silence. There was light within, but not a lot, just enough to see the maze of pipes, conduit, cables, machinery and vents, lit inconsistently by small, dull, maintenance lights placed at seemingly random, casting shadows in every direction. It felt like the space went on forever, no back wall visible in the darkness. Mark sniffed a few times, but didn¡¯t smell anything. Certainly the suits and masks were for when something broke, more a safety precaution than a necessity, or else there would be an airlock here. He set the mask down in the door jam to prop it open, and went through, letting the door close gently on the mask. His flashlight swept across the area, revealing nothing, but he could feel a tingling on the back of his neck, his nerves disliking the idea of exploring this dark cave of pipes and almost painfully loud machinery. Visibility was just about nill, and he wouldn¡¯t be able to hear a thing. Besides, what was he expecting to find here? Shaking his head he turned around. Suddenly that mess of pipes behind him felt like the perfect hiding place, and he even felt himself take a step back. Breathing stopped, the pistol fumbled out of its holster into his hand and raised in front of him. The dark black eyes of the gasmask stared at him from where it hung on the door handle. An involuntary gulp and he started breathing again. The door was close. He scanned the area around him quickly, gun and flashlight held out in front of him. There was nothing here. The bathroom. With two strides he reached out and opened the door, pistol pointed down the hallway, light rising to illuminate it.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. The storage room door was closed, hallway empty. Taking the mask off the handle, he closed the metal door behind him. He quickly turned the handle on the storage closet and threw the door open. He flicked the light switch as the door banged loudly against the wall. He scanned the small room down the pistol sight. Empty. Looking over his shoulder and back down the hallway he called out, ¡°Hello?¡± No response. Not a sound. He turned off the light, closed the door, then jogged to the corner. Leaning out with flashlight and pistol he peaked around. All three doors were closed and the hallway empty. This was insane. He had set down the gasmask, right? Who had played this trick on him? He quickly moved down the hallway towards the bathroom, stopping when the beam of light caught a flash of green. There had been someone in the bathroom. Who? Who had snuck up and moved the gasmask? The noise in the maintenance area would have made it easy enough. But who? And why? Wouldn¡¯t they at least want to ask him what he was doing here, or introduce themselves before playing a prank on him? Calm. Mark stood in the middle of the half lit hallway, not moving. Brain running in circles, but muscles frozen. He knew that he had to look in that bathroom, but he also knew that he wouldn¡¯t find anything. He was already certain of it. A quick look over his shoulder showed an empty hall behind him. Taking a few steps backwards, he reached over and opened the door to the IT Office, then flicked on the light. A quick glancing search told him it was empty. Flick light, close door, move forward, turn handle. The server room light and cool air poured out. ¡°Anyone here?¡± He called into the room above the hum of the servers. Risking a quick glance down either isle of the room, he stepped back into the hallway. He wouldn¡¯t be able to check between the server groups or the back wall without losing sight of the bathroom for a significant period. But he could keep an eye on this door. Then he remembered the second metal door. The hallways were in a U shape, both ends of the U entering into the maintenance area. Whoever had done this to him, if they were clever, would have already run around and back into that area, disappearing in the dark maze of pipes and ductwork. Mark cursed at himself for being such a jumpy fool. He¡¯d gone soft quickly. No, it was this place. It had him completely out of sorts. Sighing he holstered the pistol, then walked to the T intersection. He glanced down the hallway as he passed, it was empty, as expected. Reaching towards the bathroom he knocked on the door. No response. Handle turned, door opened to darkness. He reached in, felt the wall, and flipped the switch. It was a small, simple bathroom, exactly what he expected. The only thing that surprised him was the message ¡°Hi Mark¡± written in what appeared to be blood on the mirror above the sink. Something in his brain clicked. It all came together at once, and he actually started laughing. He smiled, nodded, flipped off the light and closed the door. He finally knew what was going on. Attaching the flashlight to the belt, Mark smiled, shook his head, and moved towards the elevator, feeling better than he had in days. It all made sense now. The mask on the door was a prank, but it was only part of the larger prank. It was all a setup. He wondered where all the camera¡¯s were hidden. Beep went the elevator. He stepped inside and hit the button marked ¡°L¡±. Would they be waiting for him in the lobby? Maybe they didn¡¯t know he¡¯d figured it out yet, so probably not. Was it Japanese? Their game shows and reality TV had started infiltrating the USA, getting big ratings online. He didn¡¯t blame them. They¡¯d done a good job. It would be absolutely hilarious to anyone on the other side of the cameras to see the big tough Marine so scared out of his mind. Mark almost felt bad that he was going to ruin it all. The doors opened to an empty lobby. A few silent steps, a beep, and Mark entered the Security Office. One of the monitors was completely black. He rolled his eyes, not even bothering to check which one. Jeremy had put on quite the performance. Very convincing. He crossed the small office and opened the door on the opposite side. Continuing down the small corridor he opened the door into the changing room. Short minutes later he was in the lab, making his way to Cardio. Some of the scientists noticed him and waved or said hello, he responded with generic greetings. The door to cardio opened and Mark stepped in. There was Zack, at the computer again. ¡°Hey, Zack, how¡¯re you doing, buddy?¡± He was overly chipper, Zack noticed. ¡°What¡¯s with you?¡± Approaching the man, Mark stopped just short of the desk. ¡°I figured it out, Zack, you don¡¯t have to pretend any more.¡± The pretend lab tech raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn¡¯t respond. ¡°Look, I know you¡¯re just part of the crew, but be straight with me now, I know it¡¯s all a scam.¡± The man¡¯s eyes widened and he looked around the room. At the hidden cameras and microphones maybe? Mark was about to say something when the scientist stood and put a single finger up to the glass of his helmet in a shushing gesture. Then he pointed to the latch on his helmet, held up two fingers and shook them. What was he doing? Zack unlatched the helmet, then motioned for Mark to do the same, which he did. The helmets came off together. There was a surprising amount of noise in the lab, the hum of the machinery above and around them. Zack leaned in close and spoke, ¡°We have about two minutes, it won¡¯t hurt to have the helmets off that long, and then we can be sure no one is listening through the coms.¡± He looked expectantly at Mark, who was suddenly feeling a little foolish. ¡°I was just saying, I already know it¡¯s a big joke, Zack. Why don¡¯t you just tell me everything you know and we can end this damn charade?¡± A very concerned look came over the other man. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you already know but¡­¡± he trailed off and looked around the upper corners of the room. Mark tried to follow his gaze, but all he could see were pipes and cables. Zack¡¯s face scrunched up in the manner a man¡¯s face does when he¡¯s trying very hard not to lose it. His eyes were turning red and glistening with tears. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die, Mark, but I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± Heat started to well up in Mark, and he felt the anger about to break loose. ¡°Look, Zack, I¡¯ve had enough of this bullshit. It may have been funny for a day or two, but I¡¯m done, OK? You¡¯re a great actor, you¡¯re all great actors, but come on, this is getting ridiculous. No one makes three-fifty as a lab technician. Monitors don¡¯t just go black. Recordings don¡¯t just change on their own. Squeaky doors, the mask and the mirror, the silly things in all the tanks and jars. Seriously, how long did they expect it to last?¡± He had been gesturing and even chuckling a little bit here and there, angrily, but he noticed now that Zack¡¯s composure and completely changed. He looked¡­ curious? ¡°What are you talking about, Mark? What do you think is happening here? Who is ¡®they¡¯?¡± ¡°The show, the producers, whoever. This has to be some kind of reality TV show or something. Just give it up.¡± Zack¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Well, now, that¡¯s a new one. Better than the hallucinations excuse.¡± His eyes seemed to melt as his whole countenance fell into despair. ¡°I hope to god you¡¯re right, but,¡± shaking his head he mumbled something that Mark had a hard time hearing, then reached for his helmet. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? You¡¯re just going to keep pretending?¡± ¡°This isn¡¯t pretend, Mark. This is as real as it gets.¡± Zack attempted to place the helmet on, but Mark put a hand on it. The Marine wanted to be angry, but he wasn¡¯t. He wanted to shake the man, smack him, scream out, but something else was inside of him. It was fear. Fear he was wrong. ¡°If it makes you feel better,¡± came the emotion filled voice, sounding like it had the day before, ¡°I don¡¯t believe the hallucination theory either.¡± ¡°Then what are you hiding? What¡¯s in those jars? Why are you afraid? Why is everyone afraid? What the hell is going on here, if it¡¯s not just a big fucking prank?¡± Zack was shaking his head. ¡°What, Zack? I can¡¯t help you if I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on.¡± Tears began streaming out of his eyes as he glanced around the upper corners of the room again. ¡°I can¡¯t, I can¡¯t! It¡¯s watching, it¡¯s always watching! Please, just go! Get out of here!¡± He pulled the helmet out from under Mark¡¯s hand and quickly put it back on, latching it, then slumping into the chair, putting the face plate into his palms. His body shook. Replacing the helmet and latching it, Mark could here the man¡¯s sobs. This was too much. It wasn¡¯t right. He wasn¡¯t right. Or if he was, they were really trying to sell it. Would such a project involve more than one ¡°victim¡±? ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Zack. I guess I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on, but if I can, I¡¯ll help you. And if I¡¯m right, and you¡¯re faking this, I¡¯ll kick the shit out of you later.¡± Was that a laugh through the tears? ¡°Deal,¡± came the choked sound of Zack¡¯s reply. All of Mark¡¯s elation at having ¡°figured things out¡± was gone. The silence inside the suit seemed complete to him as he wandered back through the lab. The objects of the scientist¡¯s work seemed more grotesque and alien than ever before. The mirror and the mask loomed in his mind. Well, maybe there wasn¡¯t some overall prank being pulled here, but that didn¡¯t mean those things weren¡¯t still a prank pulled on him. Had Jeremy snuck back into the lab while he was sure Mark would be out on his first patrol? After changing, he left through the Security hall. Back in the office he noticed that all of the monitors were working fine again. He watched the one that had gone black. Nothing weird seemed to be going on in any of the rooms as the view rotated through. If only he had stopped for the brief seconds it would have taken to figure out which camera and write down the time. Closing his eyes, he tried to remember what the cameras around had been showing, to see if he could match the rotation. He hadn¡¯t paid close enough attention. Damnit! Why had he let his hair-brained theory cloud his judgement? Grabbing the pad of sticky notes he wrote down which monitor, and an estimation of the timeframe when the blackout had occured. He¡¯d have to look back through the recordings later. Maybe without his posting the time out in the open the recording wouldn¡¯t be tampered with? He¡¯d likely never know either way. Sticking the note in his pocket he moved to the door and exited the office. He walked quickly towards the elevator. Time was running out for him to search the other two floors, and he wanted to get another look at that mirror. The small click of the Security Office door closing behind him sounded. The elevator keypad beeped, and the door opened. He quickly stepped in and punched the button marked ¡°M¡±. He unholstered his pistol and the flashlight. If whoever had done this got a rubber bullet to the chest, Mark wouldn¡¯t even feel bad about it. Ding. Doors opened. He swept the light from the right, clear, turned left, clear. Proceeding down the hallway he kept an eye on the corners ahead. He kept to the right wall, then performed the sweep in reverse at the T intersection. Clear. A few steps and he reached for the handle of the bathroom door. The lock showed ¡°Occupied¡±, the red background gleaming in the beam of light. Bad mistake. Whoever was playing games with him was going to find Mark to be a very poor sport. Beyond caring if someone was sitting on the toilet, Mark took a step back then kicked forward, hitting the plate that showed the message square on. A loud pop boomed through the hall as the frame broke and the hinges wrenched free. The door exploded open, torn from its hinges it made a loud bang against the wall behind it then toppled to the side. The light was off, but his flashlight showed him everything he needed to see. The small room was empty. The mirror was clean. Day 4, The Next Step [Reader Poll] Staring at his own reflection in the dark mirror, Mark fumed. This wasn¡¯t funny anymore, and he refused to accept that it was more than some game to a deranged lab employee. Maybe Mark wasn¡¯t the only target, maybe the whole lab was some sort of stress testing facility. Well, they were about to find out how he performed under this kind of stress. But first, he had to decide exactly how he would perform. Mark considered his options. He didn¡¯t have to take this, he was a decorated vet. He¡¯d pursued armed and dangerous combatants through war zones, he could pursue a punk through a lab. Or he could just beat some answers out of one of the lab techs, literally if necessary.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. And there was always the "nuclear" option. Mark didn''t need this job. He was only here to pass the time, maybe make some friends and some money. He hadn¡¯t signed up to be an experiment, he had signed up to protect the experiments. He could simply walk away, and leave them with one less target to taunt. Day Four, Part Three Someone had been in there, and Mark wasn¡¯t going to let them get away. Flipping the switch on, Mark holstered the pistol and flashlight, grabbed the door and pulled it into the hall. He turned back to the bathroom. Ceiling tiles. Perfect. Standing on the toilet, he brought back up the flashlight, popped out a tile, and stood on tippy-toes to get a better view into the dark space. The beam of light flashed around, revealing pipes, pillars and reflecting off wire trays. For the most part the space was empty, and while dark, he could make out the four walls. One was directly to his right, another a few feet behind him, the other two far to the left, and further forward. There was no access through here to the larger maintenance area ahead. He neither saw nor heard signs of movement. Inspecting the tiles around him, he realized that there was a decent layer of dust and grime covering everything. No one could have gone through here without disturbing that mess. The light flashed around the tiles as he searched for evidence of passage. A tile two away from the one he had popped out showed exactly what he was looking for. It had been moved, recently. Trails were carved out of the dust, and while not anything resembling marks feet or hands would make, his prankster had shown themselves very clever thus far, so he wasn¡¯t surprised they left little evidence. The beam followed the trail of disturbed dust as far as it could, about ten feet, disappearing and reappearing at random, but in the general direction of--That was it! Mark ducked back into the bathroom and ran out and back around the corner. There had been too much duct work between his vantage point and the elevator, but he was certain that was where the trail had been moving towards. He pressed the call button and the doors opened. Stepping in, he reached up and pushed against the panels on the roof of the elevator car, until the disguised maintenance hatch popped up. Putting the flashlight in his teeth, Mark reached up with both hands to either side, and hoisted himself straight up into the shaft, sitting down on the roof, legs hanging down into the car. A quick glance around showed plenty of signs of disruption. Either this car required a lot of maintenance, or someone had been using this space regularly. And there was a hatch that lead into the space above the ceiling tiles. A small hatch. A very small hatch. Mark paused. When he had seen the blood on the mirror, the one thing that was too cliche, too ridiculous for him to believe, he had completely switched gears. There was a person behind all of these shenanigans, and he was going to find them. Now, as he looked at that small hatch, and the marks in the dust leading towards or away from it, a chill went down his spine, as a primal horror gripped him. No human could fit through that grate, as it was a grate, not a hatch. The two screws that should have held the bottom fast were gone. He reached over slowly and pulled at the bottom lip of the grate. It pulled away from the wall only an inch before meeting resistance. It was barely bigger than his hand. He let go and it snapped shut. Mark sat motionless. His mind was blank. A numbness had creeped through him and consumed him. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. He closed his eyes. What was he doing? What was he chasing? ¡°How do you know if you¡¯ve gone insane?¡± The words came out of his mouth, and the thought gave him a weird tickling, itching sensation around his head. Opening his eyes, he scanned the inside of the elevator shaft with the flashlight. Marks in the dust. That¡¯s all they were. No person had been up here. No animal or creature had made these marks, they were just lines and smudges made by currents of air. There was a grate missing a couple screws. So what? Had there ever even been any blood on the mirror? Had the door ever been locked? What if he had been hallucinating? The mask, the door, the mirror, the monitor, all of it. How could he even know what was real and what wasn¡¯t? He sat there for a couple more minutes, then looked up the shaft. There was another floor, and there was still the basement, but all desire had left him to go searching. ¡°Shit,¡± he said out loud, when he remembered the broken door. How would he explain that? Sighing, he flicked off the flashlight, put it back in his belt, and lowered himself into the elevator car. Reaching up he replaced the maintenance panel. He pressed the button showing two triangles pointed away from each other, and the doors opened. The half-light of the hall no longer felt eerie, it was depressing. Numbly wandering down the hallway, he turned the corner to check on the damage he¡¯d done to the door, and halted. He felt himself sway a little, then staggered to his knees, head falling into his open palms. Tears came to his eyes unbidden, and he felt a wimper leave his lips. Then, ¡°No. No, no, no. No¡­¡± He was sinking into a black hole of despair. This couldn¡¯t be happening! Forcing himself to look up he saw the door, sitting on its hinges, open, undamaged. The door frame was also whole. Swallowing hard, wiping away tears, Mark stood, shakily. A mask could be moved. Blood could be wiped away. Video tapes could be tampered with. Software could be buggy. Scientists could have high salaries, stressful jobs, and secrets to keep. But a broken door and splintered door frame could not be repaired or replaced in the few minutes he had spent in the elevator. Some things were not possible. His being crazy, was not one of those things. Almost Mark turned away and left the building for good. He had almost done it before, and he seriously wanted to do so now, but the black maw of the bathroom almost seemed to call to him. The complete darkness of that room standing open just a few feet from him was calling to him. He could hear it, not with his ears, but on the edge of consciousness, rasping out, ¡°Maaark¡­. Maaark¡­.¡± A foot staggered forward. A hand reached out to the wall for support. Another foot shuffled. He gripped the edge of the door frame. No splinters. Why weren¡¯t there splinters? He turned into the room. Blackness surrounded him. How was it possible for a room to be so dark with a light so close by, even if it was around a corner? His hand felt around the wall for the switch. Flick. The reflection of a teary-eyed Marine stared back at him in the mirror. The words, ¡°help me¡± written across his forehead. Mark stepped closer to the mirror, abject terror seized him. He felt and saw his eyes go wide, the message on his forehead, written in what appeared to be grease, scrunched a little. Reaching up he wiped a finger across the first letter. The letter smudged and his finger came away black. The first instinct was to rub at it, wash it off. He had a sink and paper towels here. After one rub, he stopped. Wait. If he removed the grease he would never know if he was imagining it. He clung to the thought, held on to it like he would a life preserver on stormy seas. Mark ran to the elevator, hit the call button, then slipped inside as soon as the doors began to open. He quickly pressed the ¡°L¡± and the triangles pointed towards each other.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Come on, come on, come on,¡± he repeated out loud as the elevator hummed. Then it dinged and the door opened. He ran across the lobby and opened the door to the break room. Leaping over tables and chairs he was at the bathroom in seconds. He checked the mirror in there. The light was much brighter here, and the message, though badly smudged by his first attempt to remove it, was visible. Pointing at the grease he said, ¡°Don¡¯t you dare disappear on me!¡± As he ran out of the bathroom and back through the cafeteria, Mark found himself wishing he had his phone. Company policy didn¡¯t allow mobile devices in the labs, they couldn¡¯t risk anyone taking pictures or video. Given the number of rules he was breaking, it suddenly seemed silly that he hadn¡¯t bothered to break this one. It wasn¡¯t like he was going to be selling industry secrets. Still, the risk had not seemed worth it before now. While bringing bullets and the shotgun could get him fired, having his cell phone here could get him sued. And probably for a lot of money. His sanity would have been worth the price. The door opened and he turned for the metal detector. He ran through it, green light flashing down on him, and he reached for the door to the labs. The color of light registered, but he found himself not caring. Maybe the metal detector was buggy too, but he had to find out if there was grease on his forehead or not. Sprinting down the hallway, he opened the door to the changing room. ¡°Yes!¡± He cried out. Dan was there, climbing out of his cleanroom suit. ¡°Whoa, what¡¯s up Rambo?¡± ¡°Dan! Is there grease on my forehead?¡± The kid seemed dumbstruck and blinked a few times, but then frowned and nodded, ¡°Yeah, man, there is. What happened?¡± ¡°What does it say?¡± ¡°Uh, say? It doesn¡¯t look like it says anything, bro, just a smudge of grease.¡± The mirror, ¡°It¡¯s written backwards. Like, all the letters are flipped. Can you read it?¡± Raising an eyebrow, Dan shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t see any letters. Are you OK?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m great. I smudged it a bit, but it did say something before. But you can see the grease, right?¡± Dan was starting to seem very hesitant, ¡°Yeah, bro, I see the grease.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re not high right now?¡± ¡°Whoa now!¡± Dan got defensive for a second, but the look Mark gave him cut it short. ¡°Nah, man, I¡¯m not high tonight. Just need to pee real bad.¡± Mark sighed and closed his eyes. ¡°What¡¯s your deal?¡± ¡°I just, I¡­¡± Opening his eyes Mark looked at Dan. ¡°Dan, have you experienced any hallucinations in the lab? And I don¡¯t mean from your drugs.¡± The boy suddenly got very serious. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about.¡± Mark took a couple steps closer, but Dan didn¡¯t seem intimidated. ¡°Don¡¯t mess with me, Dan. I¡¯ve seen a lot of crazy shit tonight, and I¡¯m not in the mood. Tell me what you know.¡± ¡°You think you scare me? You have no clue what fear is.¡± Mark raised an eyebrow, and Dan sighed. ¡°Look, Mark, there¡¯s a reason I come in to work wasted every night, OK? I don¡¯t want to talk about it. How¡¯d you even get grease all over yourself? What¡¯ve you been up to?¡± Mark knew he had a great poker face, but Dan had him cornered. He didn¡¯t respond, and Dan nodded. ¡°We all got our secrets. So you saw some things. Join the club.¡± Kicking off the last leg of his suit, Dan passed him and opened the door, exiting the room. Grease all over? Looking down at himself he realized Dan was right. There were smudges of grease on his shirt and pants. His hands were smudged all over. He had climbed into an elevator shaft. He had put his head in his grease-covered hands. Was it just a smudge? Were the words only in his imagination? Following Dan, Mark opened the door and started down the hallway. Dan had just reached the other end and opened that door. Jogging to catch up, Mark opened the door to hear Dan¡¯s squeaky sneakers crossing the lobby. He followed Dan into the bathroom. The boy peed while Mark washed his hands, scrubbing at the grease. Looking at himself in the mirror, he was grateful for Jeremy¡¯s suggestion to keep a clean uniform in his locker. A toilet flushed, and Mark saw Dan through the mirror as he turned and approached. The sink next to him turned on as the kid began washing his hands. Their eyes met in the mirror. ¡°So, what did it say?¡± Dan asked. Mark took a good look at the smudge on his forehead. There was no real indication that it had said anything anymore. Had he messed it up that much? He thought he could maybe make out the remains of a couple of the letters. Looking back at Dan, he answered, ¡°Help me.¡± Was that a smirk? ¡°I gotta get back before Wanda thinks I¡¯m napping or snacking. Just¡­¡± His face had changed back into a serious expression. It didn¡¯t suit him. ¡°Don¡¯t quit, Mark. Please.¡± ¡°Give me a good reason not to.¡± ¡°Because¡­ Well, because you¡¯re probably the only one who¡­ can.¡± Mark raised an eyebrow, but Dan broke eye contact and turned to leave. Can? Can? Can what? Can quit? I can quit so I shouldn¡¯t? The boy was gone now. Looking back in the mirror, for just a moment, he remembered the message and it seemed clear to him on his forehead again, but then it was just a smudge. Help me. The only one who can. Grabbing some paper towels he began scrubbing his forehead with them. Help who? ¡°When exactly do you get a day off?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°Whenever they hire another night guard. Then I might get a night or two off.¡± ¡°I hope that happens soon. You seem more tired every day.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve had worse.¡± Laughing she hugged him, ¡°That¡¯s true. Well, hero, go get some sleep. I¡¯m taking everyone to my sister¡¯s so we don¡¯t keep you up.¡± ¡°Thanks, babe. Love you.¡± She kissed him. ¡°I hope they hire someone soon.¡± Nodding, he climbed the stairs. The house was quiet, but Mark couldn¡¯t sleep. Rolling over, he picked up the TV remote from the nightstand and turned it on. He browsed some options then decided on an old sitcom he¡¯d heard of but never watched. Leaving it on just loud enough to hear, but not understand, he closed his eyes again and finally drifted out of consciousness. Day 5, Evening Before Work [Reader Poll] While he slept, Mark dreamt. He was in the lab, and there was a voice calling out to him, ¡°Help me!¡± It repeated over and over as he ran from room to room. Every door screamed as he opened it, and all the lab techs were always standing in his way. They were blocking him from getting to the one that needed help. He could hear the voice calling out to him, it was angry now, demanding his help, but the lab technicians in their blood-red clean-room suits just stood there, not letting him pass. He pushed through them and opened another door that cried out. More of the techs stood in his way.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. When Mark woke he was sweating badly. This whole thing was clearly getting to him, and it was no wonder. He had seen some unbelievable things last night. How much of it was brought on by his own paranoia? Should he just calm down and stop worrying so much? It was, after all, just a lab, right? But then there was still the floor marked ¡°E¡±, and the basement. What if the answers he was looking for were there? Could he just let it all go without finding out what was happening? Day Five As Mark got into his truck rain started to fall. A flash lit up the dark sky to the East. Thunderstorm coming in. Fantastic. The truck made its way up the canyon, headlights revealing a dismal world of dying trees beyond a curtain of rain. Now and again a flash would light up the forest as a cracking boom sounded overhead. Turning off the main road, Mark made it another half mile through the rain before the wind began picking up, buffeting the truck as he drove further up the mountain. Somehow the weather fit the Marine¡¯s mood perfectly. He was determined to find out what was hiding on the top floor, and he was always more comfortable working covert ops in inclimate weather. He knew that, logically, the weather wouldn¡¯t make a difference in this case, but it still calmed him, and he held onto that calm, embraced it, as the lights of the lab appeared around the next bend in the road. Pulling up to the gate, he got out of the truck and punched in the code. The gate began to open. Climbing back in, he made his slow way through the gate, the parking lot, then pulled into the space reserved for him. Looking at the muted light of the lobby, Mark got the feeling that it was some other world, unaffected and unable to affect the one where it was now raining. Shaking the chills out of him, he climbed out of the truck. Mark was wearing a big coat, another bonus of the bad weather, as it hid what was in his pockets. He preferred not to have to make extra trips to the truck, since he couldn¡¯t be certain that there wasn¡¯t additional cameras he couldn¡¯t access watching the entrance. Approaching the building he could see Jeremy standing in the center of the lobby again. That was going to be regular, now, he assumed. It was how the old security guard could claim plausible deniability. If Jeremy never saw Mark unload what was in his pockets to his locker, he could claim he didn¡¯t know Mark had brought anything he shouldn¡¯t have. If he was never in the office with Mark to explain the existence of the security badge, that Mark had left where he¡¯d found it for his own claim of plausible deniability, then they could both claim to have not noticed it, and have no knowledge of where it came from. For just a moment Mark wondered if the card would still be there. It could have been a legitimate accident, after all, but the fact that Jeremy had stayed in the lobby and made a quick exit that night was indicative that he was avoiding a conversation about the card¡¯s existence. It would be there, Mark was certain. Not for the first time it occured to Mark that Jeremy was hiding many secrets. The old soldier was far too clever to be as ignorant as he passed himself off to be. He had been helping Mark, though, in his own way, so Mark determined not to outright ask him for any more information. If he wasn¡¯t telling Mark what he knew, he certainly must have good reasons. A beep, and then a warm draft greeted Mark as he opened the door. Jeremy looked at his watch and smiled. ¡°Right on time.¡± Mark read the unspoken meaning in his eyes: ¡°Thanks for not putting me in a position where I have to make up an excuse to leave early.¡± ¡°The wife¡¯s wondering when we¡¯ll get another night guard.¡± Jeremy nodded, ¡°Actually, Sherman was doing some interviews today for just that. I told him to focus on the night shift first, I don¡¯t mind working every day for another week if necessary.¡± ¡°I appreciate it. Well, don¡¯t let me keep you.¡± A curious look came over Jeremy¡¯s face, ¡°You holding up OK?¡± Nodding, Mark answered, ¡°The nights get a bit long and boring, but I¡¯m managing to keep myself sane. Even making a couple friends, like you suggested, which is harder than you made it sound. Most of the techs are a bit introverted.¡± ¡°Just a bit?¡± Jeremy responded with a chuckle. ¡°Sounds like the place is in good hands. I¡¯ll leave you to it.¡± Mark nodded and Jeremy passed by. Tap, tap, tap went the older guard¡¯s shoes on the lobby floor. Then they stopped. Mark turned at the same time Jeremy did. ¡°One more thing,¡± his face had that serious look on it again, the one that said there was more to his words than the words would tell, ¡°I noticed the break room door wasn¡¯t working quite right, so I fixed it. Have a good night, Mark.¡± He turned and tap-tapped his way to the exit and opened the door. The sound of the rain poured through until it closed again. Glancing at the door to the cafeteria Mark got a strange feeling in his gut. Not working quite right? He moved silently to the door and reached for the handle. A shrill scream broke the silence of the lobby as he pulled. Mark didn¡¯t even know what Jeremy would have done to make the door squeal like a banshee again, but the man had made it obvious that this was the preferred function. Mark peered inside the room and looked around. Empty. He closed the door and stood in the lobby, listening to the silence while scanning the room. What was the reason for the squeaking door? There were six doors in the room. The entrance. When locked it could only be opened from the outside with the security keyfob or a keycard. There was also a distinct and obvious pressure difference in the lobby when the outside door opened, as well as the introduction of outside noise. The HR Office. Sherman¡¯s office. Mark had yet to try going in, but presumably it could only be opened with a keycard, which would make a beeping sound. The elevator. It too could only be opened with the keycard, which would make the distinctive beep. When it reached this floor from another it would open, of course, but then it would make a ding. Besides, the door, while fairly quiet, still made noise in and of itself when it opened and closed. The Security Office. Keyfob access, with the beep, and when it closed there was the click. A click that was distinct. It sounded so similar to his old shoes that Mark hadn¡¯t noticed it until he¡¯d changed to his boots. Jeremy had shoes that made a very different sound on the hard lobby floor. The door to the labs. Once again, security keyfob access only, with the same distinct beeping sound. There was the metal detector too, which would, or should, make a loud, deep, booping sound if metal passed through. Finally, the break room door. It squeaked. It squealed. Until Mark had used the WD-40 on it. Then it had been silent. If you weren¡¯t looking at it you¡¯d never know if it were opening and closing. Jeremy had ¡°fixed¡± that problem. Why? Light flashed outside, and a second later a muffled boom was heard. Mark crossed the lobby silently. A beep, and he opened the Security Office. The first thing he noticed was the keycard still on the desk where he¡¯d left it, as expected. The metallic sound of the locker opening seemed louder than usual, but Mark knew it was only because his senses were heightened at the moment. He was paying attention to every sound with great detail. Brushing aside the thick winter coat inside the locker revealed the tactical shotgun still hanging in place behind it. He removed it and checked the chamber. Still loaded. He opened the left shell tube and unloaded the six rounds, storing them all in the right pocket of the coat that hung in the locker. Then he pulled back the pump action and the red shell in the chamber ejected into the air. Mark caught it, placing it in the pocket with the others. Reaching into the pockets of the coat he wore he took out shells with a bright orange casing and loaded them into the tube. Additional rounds went into the left pocket of the hanging coat. A final bright orange shell went into the chamber of the gun. After hanging the shotgun up, covering it, and closing the locker, Mark picked up the patrol wand and keycard, sticking the card in his pocket. He glanced at the monitors. Everything looked normal. After the incident with the bathroom he¡¯d checked the recording to see if anything had happened in the room where that monitor had gone black. He had scrubbed through the time frame several times, but hadn¡¯t found anything unusual. Mark started on his patrol. As he passed silently through the lobby he felt a calm confidence that he recognized. It was the kind of feeling he got just before a mission when he was sure of the outcome. When all of the pieces were known, accounted for. When contingency plans were in place, yet unnecessary. It wasn¡¯t how he always felt pre-mission, in fact it was more rare than other types of feelings, yet it had never failed him. When he felt like this, he was on his A-game, he was in the zone, he was unstoppable. Tonight he would hit the top floor. He would find out what was going on around here. Listening for it he heard the click of the office door closing behind him. His senses seemed heightened, as they always did when he was like this. The squealing door didn¡¯t catch him off guard, and he flowed smoothly through the chairs and tables of the cafeteria. He watched for the metal detector to go green or red when he passed through, prepared for either. It went red and booped loudly. A beep and he opened the lab entrance. As he walked down the hallway he glanced at his reflection in the one-way glass. The lack of beard was finally looking normal. In the changing room he had the clean suit on in record time. He moved through the lab with distinct purpose, feeling his ultimate goal getting closer with each room he passed through. He was silent and quick, so most of the lab technicians didn¡¯t notice him, but the few who did seemed to recognize that he had a purpose. Quick and quiet nods were all that passed between them. The first hitch in his mood came when he reached cardio. Tables were back in the room, with the glass jars once again full for the first time since the accident. Zack was bent over a table, using some kind of instruments. Mark didn¡¯t look at the things in the jars, they weren¡¯t his problem now. He thought about saying something to Zack, but continued in silence. Just before he reached for the next door a little squeak was heard through the comms. ¡°Oh, sorry, you kind of scared me.¡± The voice was feminine, and one Mark had never heard. This tech was a bit shorter than Zack, but since she had been bent over the tray he hadn¡¯t noticed. A small crack broke through his calm. Where was Zack? Had he been fired? Quit? Just his day off? ¡°Sorry,¡± he said in response to the woman, ¡°Just on patrol. Everything OK in here?¡± A slight nod and a nervous laugh, ¡°Yeah, fine. Sorry, I¡¯m so jumpy.¡± She was using her hands a lot as she spoke, and he could hear the embarrassment in her voice. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± he said with a dismissive wave. ¡°Zack¡¯s day off?¡± She was quiet a moment, and a glare on the glass of her helmet kept him from having a good look at her face. ¡°Zack?¡± It was definitely a question. The following silence got uncomfortable very quickly and she continued, ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s my first day. Well, actually, it¡¯s not my first day, it¡¯s my first night. They switched my shifts.¡± Mark¡¯s brain switched gears. He felt a bit guilty that he was seeing this as an opportunity when he still didn¡¯t know the fate of Zack, but he recognized the logical necessity of taking advantage of the situation and there was nothing he could do for Zack at the moment. ¡°Welcome to the night shift. I¡¯m Mark.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°I¡¯m Shareena, but everyone calls me Reena.¡± She started shaking her hands to her side. ¡°Sorry, sorry! I¡¯m so nervous!.¡± ¡°Why¡¯s that?¡± ¡°It¡¯s just, well, you¡¯re the one that lets us in the lab every morning right?¡± He nodded. ¡°So you work the entire night?¡± ¡°Ten to ten.¡± ¡°Is it as creepy as they say? It¡¯s just that there¡¯s so many rumors about the night shift, I¡¯m kind of freaking out in here by myself, I gotta be honest.¡± He froze. How could he respond? The scientists that came in the morning had always seemed different, but he had assumed that it was because it was the start of their shift, it was morning, the sun was shining through the lobby windows. The world was bright. The monitors only went black at night. Jeremy avoided the night shift, using his seniority to do so. Now here was someone used to the day shift, where they had rumors about the creepy night shift. That affirmed it. He had already been sure, but now there could be no doubt. They weren¡¯t hallucinations. It wasn¡¯t chemicals in the air. But how to answer her? The silence had drug on a bit too long. It was probably his current mood, but Mark found himself being very brave. ¡°Reena, why did you take the night shift if it has such a bad rep?¡± ¡°Well, they offered me a raise. It was, well, I couldn¡¯t refuse it.¡± ¡°How much?¡± ¡°Like, a hundred thousand.¡± ¡°A hundred thousand dollar raise?¡± She nodded. ¡°And that doesn¡¯t seem strange to you?¡± Her hands were shaking back and forth at her side again. ¡°It¡¯s ridiculous, I know, but I guess the night shift has such a bad rep they need to offer a lot to get people to work it?¡± She hadn¡¯t fully convinced herself of that yet. Mark shook his head, and her hands stopped shaking. Now she had frozen. ¡°I don¡¯t want to alarm, you, Reena, but my job here is to protect the people in this building. As far as I know, you¡¯re physically safe, but things happen here at night. Weird things.¡± She was shrinking into her suit, he could tell he¡¯d put her off guard, as she brought her arms up in front of her, balling her fists and holding them against her chest. ¡°Look, Reena, the reason I¡¯m being so straightforward with you is because I need your help.¡± ¡°My help?¡± It was barely a whisper. He nodded. ¡°None of the other scientists will talk to me. They¡¯re all keeping secrets. Some kind of silent agreement between them all to not talk about what they¡¯ve seen or heard. I want to help them, but they¡¯re all afraid.¡± He was using her own superstition and fear against her, he knew it, but he couldn¡¯t pass up this opportunity to make an ally. He had worked on Zack, but Zack was gone now. Reena would have to take his place in his plans just as she had taken his shift. ¡°But what can I do? I don¡¯t know any of them. I¡¯m just a lab techie.¡± Her pitch was rising, she was getting too emotional. ¡°It¡¯s fine, it¡¯s not a big deal. It¡¯ll be easy. All I need is for you to talk to me.¡± He took a couple steps closer to her, but was still a good ten feet away. ¡°I just need someone who¡¯s willing to tell me what they see. To let me know when something strange--¡± he paused. The step he¡¯d taken had been enough to remove the problem of the glare, and he could now see Reena¡¯s face. She did look scared, but just then, while he was talking, he had heard a sniff. It hadn¡¯t been him, and now that he could see her clearly, he knew that it wasn¡¯t her. Someone was listening in on their conversation. They must be just behind one of the doors. ¡°You know, Reena,¡± he said, making hand motions to tell her to stay put, as he walked first towards the door he had entered the room through. It seemed most likely that someone from that direction would know he had come in here, and they might want to listen in case the new girl talked. He continued talking to Shareena as he walked, ¡°There¡¯s nothing you need to be afraid of.¡± He was speaking to the listener as much as the new technician. ¡°I¡¯m a professional soldier, I¡¯ve been in a lot of hairy situations.¡± He opened the door as quickly as it could open. No one there. ¡°And while this place,¡± he kept on as he moved to the next door, ¡°definitely has it¡¯s oddities, I¡¯m determined to do my best to keep everyone here safe.¡± The next door opened. No one there either. Only one door left. ¡°So, while I¡¯m not going to lie to you, this place is definitely spooky at night, I want you to know that it¡¯s safe to tell me anything.¡± Mark passed Reena as he said this last thing, and their eyes met. Her look had changed from one of fear to one of puzzlement. She hadn¡¯t figured out why he was opening the doors, but at least his words had seemed to calm her. ¡°I promise,¡± he said, looking her right in the eyes as he passed, ¡°I won¡¯t think you¡¯re crazy.¡± A few more steps, and he opened the last door, but he was already prepared for the empty passage that stood before him. He had to be prepared for anything. She finally spoke, ¡°What are you doing?¡± ¡°Someone was listening to us. I¡¯m not surprised. The night group is a rather suspicious bunch, and I don¡¯t blame them. Whoever it was gave themselves away with a sniff, but probably realized it and left before they could be found.¡± ¡°Listening in on us? I don¡¯t understand, why would they do that?¡± He approached her again, ¡°Reena, I have to get back to my patrol, but I need you to promise me that you will tell me everything you see or hear, no matter how strange or crazy it might be. No matter what the other lab techies say. Can you promise me that?¡± ¡°I¡­sure, I guess. You¡¯re really kind of freaking me out, though.¡± Shrugging, he responded, ¡°I know, and I¡¯m sorry. I could lie to you, I suppose, and tell you that the night shift is no different than the day, but that wouldn¡¯t be doing you any favors. I want you to know you can trust me. Can I trust you?¡± She nodded. ¡°OK. Good luck with the shift, I¡¯ll see you at the break.¡± He turned and moved towards the door. Was that a whisper he heard? Was it Reena or someone else? ¡°What was that?¡± That was Reena. Then who had whispered? ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything,¡± he reached for the door, but looked back at the girl. She was staring up at the corner where the camera would be. Following her gaze he saw the small black dome cover. There also appeared to be some sort of spider web there, though it was too far away to say for sure. That didn¡¯t make any sense, though. No spider would live in this environment, let alone anything it might eat surviving in here. There was the whisper again. This time Mark realized it hadn¡¯t come through his comms, he had heard it through the suit. He spun, looking around him, while Reena just stared at the corner. There was no one else in the room. He heard a squeak come through the comms and Reena stepped back, pointing at the camera. Mark looked again. What had surprised her? He didn¡¯t see anything. The shiver that went down his spine was the worst one he¡¯d had yet, and his mood of steely resolve slipped. The web, or whatever it was, had disappeared. An image appeared in his mind of the lab techs in the room where the camera had gone black. After he had gone back and looked at the video they had been staring up at the camera. Had they seen the same thing? Heard the same thing? Reena was staring at him. ¡°Like I said, weird things happen. I¡¯ll see you at the break,¡± he said as he turned and left the room. He moved quickly through the rest of his patrol, mind racing. Monitors going black; recordings being overwritten; whispered voices; objects moved; messages written; a suddenly repaired door; trails in the dust; webs that came and went. When he listed all of the strange things he¡¯d seen and heard his confidence and determination returned. Unusual was an understatement, to be sure, but they were all solid, real. They could be done in the physical world. He may not know how they were being done, especially the door. That one bothered him the most. He also didn¡¯t know why, but nothing was completely beyond explanation. He just had to find those explanations. Then, he was certain, he could deal with whatever was going on. Mark hated having to wait. He wanted to head up to the top floor right after his patrol, but he knew that wasn¡¯t wise. After the scientists¡¯ break he would have several hours to do a thorough search, rather than needing to hurry back down. And besides, what if Zack or one of the other scientists came out of the lab? They would be expecting to find him near the lobby. So he watched the monitors, hoping to catch one going black again. The time passed slowly, uneventful as it was. While Mark¡¯s serene confidence had returned, he was anxious to get started, so eventually he left the monitors and walked the lobby. He found himself regarding the lobby in a new way. As a potential battlefield it was extremely undesirable. There was practically no cover, only the archway of the metal detector and the small reception desk near the entrance, with a large open space between them. Besides that, half of the exits were dead-ends and most of them required card access, which would be difficult to manage in a fight. A light flashed through the windows outside and a muffled boom followed close behind. Mark shook his head and approached the large glass lobby front. The sound of the rain was barely audible, and between the darkness of the outside and the lobby lights inside, he may as well be staring into a mirror as a window. Only the occasional blink of lightning made it possible to view the outside world in any meaningful way. Flash, cars pummelled by rain, then only his reflection. Rumble. Flash, parking lot drains overflowing with large puddles. His face, staring back at him. Boom, rumble. Flash, the outline of the trees that surrounded the lot, waving in the wind. Something in the reflection was off. His shoulder. There was something on his shoulder. His instincts tried to kick in. He suppressed a shudder, a hand wiping at the thing, turning to look at it. All of these things his body wanted to do, but he held his calm, watching the reflection. Thin, pinkish lines moved so slowly across the dark blue of his uniform, it was barely even visible in the dark glass. Was this the thing he¡¯d seen on the camera in the lab? Mark thought about reaching for it, trying to grab it, but his hands were bare. Would it be slippery? Sticky? Could it sting him? It had a look that reminded him of coral or an anemone of some sort. A deep, internal instinct was certain that it had been plucked from a dark abyss in the pacific ocean. It was probably poisonous. Suddenly he realized that his mind was cloudy. He was so focused on trying to figure out what it was, that he¡¯d failed to consider where it had come from, or how he should react. Light flashed, and for a brief moment he was no longer looking at the thing on his shoulder, but outside, as intense rainfall smothered his truck. Then there again was his shoulder. Just his shoulder. Turning slowly, he watched his reflection, checking his back. Nothing there. He glanced around the room, floor, walls, ceiling, corners. Nothing. He moved around the reception desk. Nothing. To hell with the scientists. They could look for him if they wanted, he wasn¡¯t going to wait for their break to be over to get to the bottom of this. He moved swiftly across the lobby, scanned his keyfob, and entered the security office. A few swift motions and he was opening the door back to the lobby, now with the shotgun slung on his shoulder. As he approached the elevator he checked the safety. On. The tube switch. Still on the left tube. Pulled back the pump slightly to check the chamber. Loaded. He pressed his pocket with the keycard against the reader and there was a beep. The door opened. He was in full tactical mode, now, moving like a cat stalking prey. Sweeping into the elevator, he punched the button marked ¡°E¡±. The doors closed. As the elevator moved upwards Mark removed the flashlight from his belt and snapped it into a clip on the bottom of the shotgun¡¯s barrel. He turned on the light then shouldered the weapon. The doors opened. It poured. Lightning flashed. Thunder boomed. The noise of the drops hitting the cars, splashing into the puddles, pelting the trees, drowned out all thought. Was that a pun? Mark let that thought go as well. He just stood in the rain. A red SUV slowly made its way through the parking lot, barely splashing through the deep puddles. The clouds so thick that even though the sun was undoubtedly up, the world was still dark enough that the headlights were on. Finally pulling up right in front of Mark, the engine turned off. Jeremy met eyes with him from inside the vehicle. What felt like an entire minute passed before the older man finally dimmed the headlights, pulled a hood over his head, opened the door, and stepped out into the rain. The two retired soldiers stared at each other for a while, blank faced. It was Jeremy that finally broke the silence between them. He had to almost shout to be heard through the rain, though. ¡°So, is this it, then?¡± Mark could read through the man¡¯s poker face. He was disappointed. Depressed, even. But not surprised. A thousand conversations had passed through Mark¡¯s mind, but each seemed unnecessary now. The question had been enough to make up his mind. He turned and moved towards his truck. As he stepped off the curb he glanced at Jeremy, who had followed him only with his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll see you at 22.¡± There it was. A smile. It was just the barely turning up of the corner of his mouth, and yet the old man¡¯s face seemed to light up, his shoulders dropping in relief. He gave Mark a good-natured mock salute, then watched as the truck drove away. Day Six ¡°Les, meet Mark. Mark, Les.¡± They shook hands, the Marine¡¯s completely engulfing the woman¡¯s. She was tiny. But she was also wearing the dark blue security uniform. ¡°Les here is training for both the day and night positions. Sherman¡¯s compromise to get us both a chance to have a couple days off every week.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s nice to meet you, Les. I hope you¡¯re not offended when I say this is a really shitty idea. Bouncing back and forth schedules like that every week is going to take a toll.¡± Mark gave Jeremy a meaningful look, but the old man¡¯s poker face said nothing. ¡°It¡¯s just a temporary stop gap. Les spent the last four hours of my shift with me, and now she¡¯s with you for the next six. Tomorrow she¡¯ll do a full twelve, starting at six PM.¡± Mark nodded, looking at the woman. She looked nervous. She should be, though not for the reasons she currently felt, no doubt. In any case, he had to smooth things over a little bit, or this was going to be a long night. Looking her in the eyes he said, ¡°It¡¯s a rough schedule you¡¯ve signed up for, and one that¡¯ll help us both out, so I appreciate it. I admire that kind of commitment.¡± She smiled, and even managed a murmured, ¡°Thanks.¡± What was she, twenty? Not any more than twenty-five, certainly. Her edges were too soft, her face too baby-like. Mark thought she wouldn¡¯t even last through a week of training. The two old soldiers weren¡¯t getting a day off any time soon. A week of training. Mark realized with surprise that he hadn''t even been at the lab for a full week yet. It felt like a month. He had already come so close to leaving multiple times. Guilt for thinking she wouldn''t last a week soured in his stomach. Would he? ¡°Alright, then, I¡¯m off. Les here has run the rounds with me a couple times now. Mark, why don¡¯t you give her a chance to see if she¡¯s got it down, play follow the leader tonight?¡± Both of the newest security officers nodded, and he excused himself. As Mark watched Jeremy leave his eyes caught sight of the elevator. He suppressed a shudder. ¡°So,¡± Les started, doing her best to not look shy, ¡°when is the first night patrol?¡± Green. It would have been cute if this were the job it was supposed to be. Just a patrol in a lab, looking out for a pack of nerdy scientists, nothing more. What was Sherman thinking? And then a thought occurred to Mark for the first time. Did Sherman not know? Could that even be possible? How many raving mad security guards had complained to him? How many reports of strange noises and sightings had he heard? ¡°Right now,¡± Mark responded, trying not to sound cold or angry. This was going to ruin everything. How could he talk to Shareena with Les around? Certainly the card was gone from the desk. No chance Jeremy would risk this girl ending up on the executive floor. There was the shudder again, and this time Mark couldn¡¯t fight it. Les clearly noticed. No poker face on this one. ¡°It¡¯s a bit chilly out there tonight,¡± he said dismissively, then walked past her towards the Security Office. The tap-tapping of her shoes as she followed him made him cringe. He had a shadow. A shadow that would be a liability. A shadow he¡¯d have to look out for. A shadow that would probably scream and jump at every real shadow. A shadow who¡¯s shoes made the wrong noise. Mark opened his locker and hung his lighter jacket next to the heavy one, closing it again with a loud clank. Les was just standing in the doorway, watching him. He raised an eyebrow. She shrunk. He knew he could be intimidating without even trying, but even so, this girl had signed up to be a security guard, certainly she had at least a little moxie. ¡°Following you now, leader,¡± he said, adding a smile to try and soften his demeanor. ¡°Oh, right,¡± she followed up with a little laugh, then took a few steps, picked up the patrol wand, and headed back out the door. ¡°Les,¡± he called, and she turned back around. He pointed to the other door that lead to the security hallway. ¡°We use that one.¡± She blushed, but otherwise didn¡¯t respond as she turned back and went through the other door. Mark followed. She started asking him questions almost immediately, probably trying to bury her embarrassment. Married? Yes. Kids? Yes. What ages? Twenty two, seventeen, thirteen. Always been a security guard? More or less. How long at the lab? Too long. Favorite color? Black. Really black? Yes. Why? It''s useful. He wasn''t trying to be rude, but his short responses made it clear he wasn''t in a talkative mood. They were quiet as they got their blue clean suits on. That was when Mark first realized she didn''t have a gun. A moment of self examination came. How could he have not noticed such a detail? Where was his head? This girl was a wrench, thrown right in the gears of his investigation. These past few days had completely ruined him. He should be handling all of this better. He took a deep breath. ¡°Les, where''s your gun?¡± ¡°Oh, uh,¡± she shrugged. ¡°I didn''t want it.¡± ¡°Make you uncomfortable?¡± She shook her head before putting on the helmet. ¡°I just don''t see the point. I don''t want to get used to it being there, and then not be able to depend on it.¡± The Marine was surprised. Her instincts were in the right place, but she lacked experience. Maybe Sherman did know what he was doing after all. ¡°I get that, but it''s a mistake.¡± She turned to him, suit ready. He put his helmet on, latched it, and stared back at her. She was trying to read him. She was nervous, but why? He got the feeling now that his first impression had been spoiled by his frustration with having his plans ruined. She wasn¡¯t nervous because he was intimidating or it was the first day at a new job. It was because she had been in the lab. Seen the things on the trays, in the jars. They had tried to give her a toy gun. She was nervous for the same reasons he had been wary on his first day. Unfamiliar territory. Unknown entities. Limited defensive options. Was it too soon to trust her? Did Mark have a choice? ¡°Sometimes,¡± he offered, while removing his holster, ¡°the appearance of a thing is as effective as the real thing.¡± He held the pistol and holster out to her. A full count of four went by before she nodded and accepted the weapon, strapping it around her clean suit. She was not unfamiliar, or uncomfortable, with handling the gun. His second assessment of her was far more accurate, no doubt, but she was still inexperienced. She hadn''t noticed the added weight of the bullets. It was probably too soon to really test her, but the feeling of time being a commodity too rare to waste pushed him into it. ¡°I¡¯m going to head straight for Cardio. You know where that is?¡± The helmet moved back and forth. ¡°Well, just do your best to follow the route. If you get lost, ask how to get to Cardio. I''ll see you there.¡± They entered the Nexus together, Mark heading for the second door from the right. He looked back at Les. She was standing there watching him. He stopped at the door and stared back. She seemed to stand a little taller, then moved swiftly to the first door on the right. ¡°Don''t forget the count.¡± He said as she moved through it. No response. Women. Turning he entered the small sanitation room and made his own count to twenty. Continuing through he found the room empty. Once before this room had been empty, but on that day he was hurrying to help clean up a mess, and yet to be suspicious. Today it was a golden opportunity. Or so he hoped. After only a few seconds of staring at the computer monitors in the room, he remembered that he was not a biologist, or any other kind of scientist for that matter. It was clear they were not using any operating system or program the he knew of, but other than that, he learned nothing. He glanced into a few of the microscopes specially designed for use with the helmets, just for good measure, but the strange squirming shapes he saw meant nothing to him. Were they normal? Doing his best to commit them to memory, he decided he¡¯d have to search online later to see if he could find anything that resembled them. Taking just another minute he discovered that there were no actual computers in the room, only the monitors. Cables ran to them from conduit that disappeared into the ceiling where they likely ended up in the server room. He moved on. As he swerved through the puzzle-piece shaped hallway, Mark heard staticy whispers coming through the comms and paused just a moment at the door which lead to Cardio. Was she talking to herself?This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Opening the door he quickly glanced around. Only one technician, presumably Reena, was in the room, carefully holding a jar that contained one of those things in it. Was she talking to it? The whispers were hard to make out, but they sounded like a mother cooing to her child. He was about to speak, when Mark realized that she might drop the jar if he startled her. Quietly he approached from behind. When he was close enough that he felt confident he could grab the jar should she drop, he spoke. ¡°Hey, Reena.¡± She didn¡¯t jump, she whirled. Though her face was seen through both the hard plastic of his own helmet and hers, it seemed to Mark for just a brief moment, that she was angry. But then she was smiling, and responded in her soft feminine voice,¡°Oh, hey. Mark, right?¡± ¡°Yeah. How are you doing tonight?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m peachy. Just admiring my babies.¡± ¡°Babies?¡± Mark said it with a bit of a chuckle, doing his best to not sound creeped out. She held the jar up to him, ¡°Isn¡¯t it amazing?¡± ¡°Reena,¡± he paused a moment, not sure if this was a road he wanted to go down just yet. They didn¡¯t really know each other yet, but she was in such a good mood and being so friendly, he took the chance. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a heart, of course.¡± She said it so simply, turning and placing the jar of something that was most definitely not a heart, down on the table. Her mood was such a change from the previous night that Mark was starting to wonder if she¡¯d met Dan. Maybe he¡¯d given her a little something to help her calm down? ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like a heart.¡± As long as she was so forthcoming, he might as well take the opportunity. ¡°Not yet, no.¡± She sighed as she moved past him to sit at the desk. She began typing. Well, whatever was going on, it wasn¡¯t good for Mark. How could he get her to depend on him, to need his strength, if she wasn¡¯t afraid? Once again he felt a tinge of guilt for even thinking like that. It would definitely be better for her, and everyone else, if there was nothing to be worried about, but using drugs to feel better when the world around you is falling apart doesn¡¯t help anyone, and solves nothing in the long run. She was humming now. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re in a good mood,¡± he meant it. ¡°I guess that means things have been going better than you thought they would.¡± She stopped typing, spinning in the chair. ¡°The lab¡¯s very different at night. Quieter. I¡¯m quite enjoying it.¡± Her tone had changed. There was a distinct ¡°don¡¯t you have something better to do than chat with me¡± vibe to it. He found himself hoping that Les would walk through the door so that this awkward moment could be interrupted, but that wasn¡¯t likely to happen for a couple more minutes. He would have to improvise. If Reena was so intent on pretending everything was fine, then he would play along. ¡°Seen any good movies lately?¡± She was startled for a moment, then took the bait with a grateful smile. ¡°With a twelve hour shift and an hour commute?¡± Mark shrugged. She seemed to be thinking for a moment. ¡°I think the last movie I saw was in July. Some dumb romcom. I don¡¯t even remember what it was called.¡± ¡°It was that bad?¡± ¡°Yeees! Too cliche for me.¡± He chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s a romcom, they¡¯re all cliche. It¡¯s a requirement.¡± It felt weird to talk about the outside world here in the labs. It was as if this place existed in its own space, separated from the normal, where universal laws could be ignored. It felt weird, but it had a certain magic to it, dispelling the gloom and mysteries of the lab. Maybe Reena was onto something. ¡°Are you married?¡± ¡°Depends, are you asking out of personal interest, or curiosity?¡± They both laughed, but he quickly continued with a wave of a hand, ¡°I¡¯m kidding. Yes, I¡¯m very happily married. What about you?¡± ¡°With a twelve hour shift and an hour commute?¡± She repeated her earlier response, and they both laughed again. ¡°Wow, didn¡¯t think you could make a rock laugh.¡± Mark turned to see Les just coming through the door. Her comment made Reena laugh even more, but Les wasn¡¯t even smiling as she glared at him. ¡°Les, this is Shareena. Reena, this is Les, our newest recruit.¡± They waved to each other. ¡°Well, you made it this far on your own, I¡¯ll follow you the rest of the way.¡± ¡°Have fun,¡± Reena waved once more, then turned back to her computer. Mark nodded to Les, and they continued on their way. He reflected on the oddly chipper conversation, which had left him in such a good mood. It was dangerous, he knew, to keep up such a good mood in threatening situations. It could make you do stupid things. It could get you killed. But there wasn¡¯t actually a threat in the lab, was there? Les only needed a few directions as they continued through the rest of the patrol. Most of the scientists kept to themselves, as usual, but a few waved, or offered a greeting. For a while things seemed almost normal. Reena¡¯s attitude carrying with him, convincing him that this was just a regular job in a boring lab. When they were nearing the end of the route they entered nineteen, or ¡°Neuro¡±. This room was a perfect triangle, and one of the largest in the lab. They would enter near one point of the long side, walk along that wall, which was devoid of desks or other instruments, to the center. There was a door there and a button for the patrol wand. This door was different than all the other doors in the lab, however, because it had a keypad lock on it. Les connected the wand to the button, and the little green light lit up. Then she did something Mark had never done. ¡°What¡¯s through here?¡± she asked. There were currently six lab technicians in the room all busy at various tasks, ignoring the two security guards until Les spoke. Before Mark could answer that he had no clue, instinctual alarm bells went off inside of him. It took immense amounts of self control to not react, his body desiring to dive and get out of the line of fire. All six of the white-suited techs suddenly, quickly, turned to them, and said, simultaneously, ¡°Nothing.¡± There was something forceful in their tone. It was over the top. It was too much. A line from Shakespeare popped into his mind. Les visibly shuddered in the ensuing silence, and it was a full count of three before the techs started looking at each other, as if surprised by their reactions, then went back to their tasks with a new intensity and focus. The two security guards locked wide eyes. She mouthed ¡°Whaaaat?¡± and Mark made an almost imperceptible shrug. He nodded towards the exit, and she turned, he following. Just as Mark was passing the door, it slid open. ¡°Whoa! Am I seeing double?¡± He caught a glimpse of a long, empty hallway that ended in another door as he moved aside to let Dan exit, the door closing automatically behind him. ¡°Nah,¡± Dan continued, ¡°one of the doubles is too short.¡± The boy laughed then. ¡°Dan, this is Les,¡± ¡°We¡¯ve met,¡± she said, her voice a little off. She was still shaken up, and Mark didn¡¯t blame her. ¡°Right! New girl. Totally forgot, sorry dude. Dudette,¡± he corrected himself. The young man looked around the room, finally noticing the odd tension in the air. The other techs were very intentionally focused, ignoring the trio completely. Dan gave Mark a questioning look. ¡°Well, see you at the break,¡± was all the Marine said, then turned. The two guards left the room quietly. Not a word was spoken until they were both back in the Security Office. ¡°What was that?¡± Les asked, incredulous. ¡°No clue. They¡¯re an odd bunch, but that was especially odd.¡± ¡°It was creepy.¡± She shuddered involuntarily. ¡°Ugh.¡± It had never occured to Mark to ask what was behind that door. He always assumed they kept expensive chemicals or controlled substances in there. Now he didn¡¯t know what to think. Les was just standing there staring at him. ¡°Well,¡± he started slowly, ¡°you¡¯ve probably already realized this, but most of the job is pretty boring. We don¡¯t do anything until midnight, when they go on break. Then we wait for them to go back into the lab. You¡¯re welcome to have a meal at that point too. After that we need to do a perimeter check. That¡¯s kind of whenever you want to do it, just get it done before two, because then there¡¯s another lab patrol.¡± She was nodding, eyes unfocused. The rest of the night Les was quiet, reserved. Nothing else unusual happened, not even a single monitor went black. With her present and the keycard absent Mark wasn¡¯t able to do any more investigating. It was, well, boring. During the outside perimeter patrol she stayed right on his heels, even tripping him up once, then twice. She mumbled apologies, and the Marine did his best to not get upset on the third time. Despite the relatively uneventful evening, the girl was still spooked. When she left at four in the morning, he wondered if he would ever see her again. ¡°They hired a new guard. Trained her a little last night. Assuming it wasn¡¯t too rough for her, she¡¯ll be training again tonight, and then I can expect a day off sometime this week.¡± ¡°Well that¡¯s good news.¡± Jessica was sorting through the mail. ¡°All junk. As usual. Oh, and you need to remember to turn off your phone when you leave. It was buzzing until almost midnight, when I finally turned it off.¡± ¡°That¡¯s weird.¡± He went to the bedroom and turned on his phone. Mark found several unread texts, part of a group chat. Apparently several of his old Raiders wanted to pay him a visit this week. The Marine found himself wishing he could bring them into the lab with him. Impossible, of course, but difficult not to imagine what he could accomplish if he still had his Dirty Baker¡¯s Dozen. Shaking his head clear of the thought, he shot off a text. He wasn¡¯t sure when he¡¯d be available, but he¡¯d let them know as soon as he had a day off. If that didn¡¯t happen this week, they¡¯d have to meet up in the early evening. All in all, it was a relatively normal night, and Mark fell asleep easily, hoping the normality would last. Day 7, Evening Before Work [Reader Poll] It was already starting to rain outside as Mark was eating dinner. With the temperature this low it was probably snowing up at the facility. It wouldn¡¯t be a very heavy snow, likely wouldn¡¯t start sticking until later in the night, but it would make the perimeter check more interesting. For a moment Mark considered making Les do it alone. Why not? She would have to be doing it alone the next time she went. At that moment he realized that he had a unique opportunity. With Les there tonight, assuming she showed up, he could have her watch the lobby during the break hour, while he could get some alone time in the labs.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. The thought went from a tempting idea to an imperative after just a few minutes consideration. He likely wouldn¡¯t ever get another chance like this. The only question now was what do with the time he had? The break was an hour, but that time could go fast, and not all of the techs always took the whole hour. He¡¯d have to plan something else as well, some kind of additional distraction to get him as much time as possible alone in the lab. Time to bake a whole bunch of cookies. Day Seven, Part One It was snowing. Usually, Mark loved the snow. There was something wondrous, even magical, about the way the whole world got quiet when these puffy white flakes were falling from the clouded skies. Even indoors, sounds were somehow muted. When it was snowing, it seemed the only natural sound left in the universe was the soft crunch of the snow beneath your boots. Of course, that was when there was snow on the ground. Tonight, it was still too warm for the snow to actually stick to the ground. Silence reigned. Usually, Mark loved the silence. It had been critical to his career. Now, it just seemed ominous. He was trying to keep his A-game attitude, but he couldn¡¯t shake a feeling of unease that had been creeping into him. It didn¡¯t help that Les had taken his parking spot tonight. Couldn¡¯t blame the girl for wanting to be close to the building when it was snowing, though. He had pulled the truck into an empty row, behind the furthest parked cars, and was now walking through the deathly silent, not to mention pitch black, parking lot. On a night like this, every sound was painfully obvious. The sound of Mark¡¯s snow jacket swish swishing as he walked, was loud to his ears, which is why the Marine was surprised when he heard the closing of a car door from somewhere out in the darkness. He paused. Who would be out here at this time? He could see the outline of Jeremy and Les¡¯ vehicles against the dull light that escaped the lobby windows ahead, and the noise had come from behind. Instinct pulled at him to crouch, but he maintained his calm, eyes scanning the darkness. There hadn¡¯t been a cab light in any cars when he parked, which meant that whoever was out there had been there before he had left his truck, and they hadn¡¯t opened their car door until he had passed the row they were in. His presence was already known, then, by the mystery person, so hiding was pointless. Should he call out? Even though his eyes had adjusted to the dark already, between the clouds covering all light from the sky, and the falling snow, it was difficult to even make out silhouettes of the parked vehicles. He took the risk. ¡°Hey, how¡¯s it going?¡± ¡°No way!¡± The voice was much closer than Mark expected, and he recognized it immediately. ¡°You are a total ninja, dude! How did you see me?¡± ¡°See you? Dan, I can smell you.¡± The kid laughed, he was closer now, but still hidden in the dark. ¡°What¡¯re you doing out here anyway?¡± ¡°Forgot my lunch in my car. I really hope the ice cream I packed didn¡¯t melt.¡± His voice was only a little over dramatic with concern. Mark could see him now, only a few feet away. He wasn¡¯t even wearing a coat. ¡°I totally thought I¡¯d be able to sneak up and scare you, bro, but you are just too commando for me. Oh, hey, what you go there?¡± ¡°Cookies. Good thing you didn¡¯t scare me. If these had spilled no one would have ever found your body.¡± The kid made a little nervous laugh. ¡°My hands are full, why don¡¯t you open the door for me?¡± ¡°Anything for the cookie man!¡± Dan passed by him, leading the way towards the lobby. ¡°Hey, Dan, quick question,¡± The younger man made an agreeable grunt, and Mark made sure to sound as disinterested as possible, ¡°Just curious what¡¯s down that locked hallway in Neuro.¡± The kid¡¯s chuckle had way too much amusement in it. ¡°Ah, the secret room,¡± he said with as much mystery as he could muster. Then, plainly, ¡°Trust me, it¡¯s nothing special. Just where we keep the alien body.¡± Knowing it was a joke didn¡¯t stop a shiver from going down Mark¡¯s spine. It was a joke, right? He was grateful for the darkness. They were close to the building now, so he played along instead of questioning further. ¡°Eh, I won¡¯t ask for a tour then. After all, if you¡¯ve seen one alien body, you¡¯ve seen them all.¡± It was Dan¡¯s turn to wonder what was and wasn¡¯t a joke. Turning halfway as he approached the door, he gave Mark a questioning look. The Marine gave him a half-smile and winked. The boy shook his head with a knowing smile, then beeped his keyfob and opened the door. It turned out to be very lucky that Dan was there since neither Jeremy or Les were waiting in the lobby. ¡°Where is everyone?¡± ¡°No clue,¡± Dan answered, jogging ahead to open the screeching cafeteria door for him as well. ¡°Thanks, Dan.¡± He took the two trays of cookies to the counter, leaving them there. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone I brought these, yeah?¡± ¡°What¡¯s the occasion?¡± ¡°Well, I figured Les could use a chance to get to know everyone a little better, so I brought them on her behalf.¡± ¡°Damn, bro, you like some kind of Super Man?¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°I mean, you¡¯re like an awesome co-worker, and a commando-ninja, all rolled into one. Like, mild-mannered security guard at night, super crime fighter during the day, or something.¡± Mark rolled his eyes and left the room, wincing at the screaming door, and wondering why Jeremy and Les hadn¡¯t appeared yet. His boots, wet from the melted snow, made little squeaks as he crossed the lobby, his coat swish swishing. Both sounds fed into his ever-growing unease. The keyfob beeped, the lock snicked, and he opened the Security Office door. There was no one in the office. Taking a few steps, he watched the monitors, looking for a sign of the other two guards through the cameras. The feeds rotated. A few seconds later they rotated again. One of the monitors went black. Mark stared at the blank monitor. The feeds switched, but the monitor was still black. A second one went black. Then a third. Tearing off his jacket, he threw it into the corner, then reached for the door to the security hallway. He grabbed at empty space, the door opening away from him. ¡°Oh, hey, Mark.¡± He backed up, Jeremy and Les both entering the small office from the hall. With three in here, it felt smaller than ever before. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Mark asked, glancing towards the monitors, which were all back to normal. Should he say something about it? ¡°Just finished cleaning up another mess in seven.¡± Jeremy¡¯s voice was normal, but his face was, surprisingly, showing some emotion. It looked like concern. ¡°Is Reena OK?¡± The older man nodded, and whatever look was on his face passed. ¡°Well, luckily Les was here this time so, between the three of us, we got it cleaned up pretty quick. Wasn¡¯t as bad as last time, just a couple jars.¡± ¡°Last time?¡± asked Les. ¡°That¡¯s twice in the last week,¡± responded Mark. ¡°Clumsy girl, eh?¡± Les passed between the two men, who looked each other in the eyes, but neither said anything about Zack. ¡°Ugh, I feel like I need a shower. What is that gross stuff in those jars anyway?¡± She opened her locker and began going through her bag, looking for something. ¡°Anything else weird happening tonight?¡± Mark asked it innocently enough, but made a slight motion towards the monitors, giving Jeremy a meaningful look. He glanced at the monitors, then back at Mark, who gave a slight nod. Les missed the whole thing, still digging through her purse. ¡°No,¡± Jeremy responded, ¡°other than the spill, it¡¯s been a quiet evening.¡± Les had finally produced a bottle of hand sanitizer and was squeezing some out onto her palm. She tossed the bottle back into her bag and rubbed the liquid into her hands, the two men staring at her. ¡°What?¡± She noticed them looking at her, then seemed to get embarrassed. ¡°I know it¡¯s silly, we were wearing those suits. But still.¡± She shrugged. Les jumped a little, as the awkward silence was interrupted by a knock on the door. Jeremy just raised an eyebrow. ¡°Dan,¡± Mark said, reaching for the door. ¡°Hey, it¡¯s my favorite people. Rambo, Frank, and, uh, new girl.¡± ¡°Les,¡± all three security guards said in unison.¡± ¡°Yes! Les! I won¡¯t forget again, I promise!¡± Dan shouted through the shrinking opening as Mark closed the door behind himself. The two walked towards the metal detector. ¡°Hey, Mark, in all seriousness, if you wanted to see what¡¯s hidden away in Neuro, just ask Wanda for that tour. I¡¯m sure she wouldn¡¯t mind showing you the room, but it really isn¡¯t worth your time.¡± Green light poured down on both of them as they walked through the detector. Despite his tone, Mark found himself unable to believe the kid. Maybe it wasn¡¯t worth the effort to find a way to sneak into the hallway after all, or maybe Dan was trying to put him off the scent.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Either way, he was a little surprised when Dan stopped and turned. ¡°Wait, shouldn¡¯t that have made a sound or something?¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°It does that sometimes. Not the best detector. One more thing for you to keep to yourself.¡± They reached the door to the lab. ¡°You know, Dan, I keep trusting you with my little secrets. One of these days, you¡¯re going to trust me back.¡± The boy genius frowned and looked away. ¡°I need to get back to work.¡± The keyfob beeped, the lock snicked, and Mark opened the door to the labs. Dan went through. The Marine let the door shut on its own as he approached the metal detector. Someone else had seen it not behaving the way it should. Maybe it was just a faulty detector after all. A minute later Jeremy said his goodbyes, leaving Les and Mark alone in the quiet lobby. ¡°I brought cookies.¡± She turned and looked at him. ¡°For you to give out at the break.¡± ¡°You brought me cookies, to give to other people?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± She stared at him a minute, then said, ¡°I didn¡¯t tell Jeremy about the gun if that¡¯s what you¡¯re worried about.¡± The gun? He glanced at her hip. She had the pistol he had given her the night before. She must have found out it was the real deal, and loaded. He couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°No, it¡¯s not like that. You¡¯re welcome to tell Jeremy about the pistol, it was his idea.¡± She looked confused. ¡°I brought the cookies, for you to give out, because I wish I had done it myself earlier. The geeks here are nice people, just a bit introverted. You tell them you brought some cookies as a greeting gift, they¡¯ll open right up. You¡¯ll make some friends.¡± ¡°Whatever. Thanks, I guess. Sorry, it¡¯s nice of you, and all, it¡¯s just¡­¡± she went silent. ¡°Weird?¡± ¡°Kind of, yeah.¡± Mark nodded. ¡°I know, it¡¯s weird.¡± She was starting to look worried. He had to salvage this. There was not enough trust going around in this place, and he didn¡¯t want to be the source of any mistrust. ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest with you, Les. There are other reasons I brought the cookies.¡± She looked at him. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be doing you any favors to pretend that what¡¯s going on here is normal.¡± ¡°Normal?¡± she interrupted. ¡°This place gives me the creeps!¡± She was whisper shouting. He had definitely hit a nerve, so he waited for her to keep going. ¡°I-I almost didn¡¯t even come back tonight. I can¡¯t even tell you why. I just don¡¯t like it. There¡¯s something wrong with this place.¡± Mark nodded, but kept silent for another few seconds, to make sure she was done. She wasn¡¯t. ¡°Jeremy sure seems to think everything''s normal, but he creeps me out as much as anything else in this place.¡± After a few more seconds and some visible deep breaths, she asked, ¡°And what the hell was in those jars?¡± It was probably a rhetorical question, but Mark took the opportunity to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s why I brought the cookies.¡± Again she looked confused. ¡°Having another guard here tonight gives us a unique opportunity. If you can keep everyone occupied in the cafeteria during the break, it will give me a chance to check out the labs, alone.¡± She was listening but still looked like she needed some convincing. ¡°I get that you probably just want to walk out that door and never look back. Believe me, I¡¯ve been there. I almost did that a few times my first few nights here. But now, I want to find out what¡¯s going on. So if you can stick it out, just one more night, I¡¯d really appreciate it.¡± She was silent. Thinking. He decided to give her a break, ¡°Think about it. For now, I¡¯ll go do the rounds and you can take a break in the office.¡± ¡°Oh, no you don¡¯t. I¡¯d rather go back into the lab then be alone in here.¡± Mark thought of the monitors going black, imagined how she would handle that, and decided it was probably not the best idea. ¡°Hey, I¡¯m not a wimp.¡± The Marine smiled at the girl. ¡°Les, if you were a wimp, we would have never met. And I wouldn¡¯t have given you a gun. Let¡¯s do the rounds.¡± Now that they had been open with each other he was certain all she needed was to see his confidence in her. She would stay. She may even rethink quitting altogether. So Mark followed Les, giving her the baton. When they reached the hallway to Cardio, however, he asked her to wait there for just two minutes, so he could have a chance to ask Shareena about the accident. Les agreed, though reluctantly. Mark entered Cardio. How long since the other two had left her? Fifteen minutes? Not much more than that. The floor still had shiny streaks where the liquid had been mopped up. A broken jar sat on one of the trays, filled with broken shards of another completely shattered jar. ¡°Hey, Reena.¡± She didn¡¯t move from her chair. ¡°Heard about the accident.¡± Just sitting there, hands sandwiched between her thighs. ¡°Thought I¡¯d check in on you.¡± She probably didn¡¯t realize she was getting her thighs red from the liquid on her gloves. ¡°Les isn¡¯t far behind me, but I thought maybe you¡¯d want to talk privately.¡± He took a few steps, slowly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t an accident,¡± she whispered. Even with the comms, it was hard to hear. He got closer. ¡°I didn¡¯t drop them.¡± ¡°You know, about a week ago, something happened in here.¡± He was almost to her, he could see her face now. ¡°Zack. He said the same thing.¡± He heard Zack¡¯s voice in his memory, yelling, ¡°I didn¡¯t trip!¡± Shareena¡¯s face was streaked from tears. It was dry now. ¡°What I¡¯m saying, is that I believe you.¡± She was just staring at the jars. Not the broken ones. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me what happened?¡± ¡°I thought,¡± she started, then paused. Mark crouched down next to her. Should he touch her? She seemed like she could use a reassuring gesture, but Mark wasn¡¯t really the one to know what that might be. Maybe Les should be in here after all. ¡°I heard someone,¡± she continued. He held still and just listened. ¡°Someone was calling for help.¡± Ice crept down Mark¡¯s arms as he remembered his dream of someone in the labs calling for help. ¡°It sounded like it was coming from¡­¡± she trailed off, but lifted a hand and pointed to her left, towards the door that led to eight, never taking her eyes from the jars ahead of her. ¡°So I ran. When I got there, everyone was working. They didn¡¯t see me, so I just left.¡± She started blinking. Her eyes were getting moist again. ¡°When I came back in, I heard it again, but, this time¡­¡± Now she moved her hand, pointing to her right, towards the door that led to the puzzle-piece hallway, connecting to both five and six. ¡°I was so confused but so worried, so I ran towards the door, but then¡­¡± She choked up, tears starting to fall again. Suddenly she jerked, and Mark turned to see what had surprised her. Les was coming through the door. Was that all that had surprised her? ¡°It¡¯s OK, Reena, you can keep going.¡± He gave Les a gesture to hold still, and she stopped. ¡°Well, I...I don¡¯t know what happened. Before I got to the door, I heard the crash. I turned, and the jars were on the floor. The tray hadn¡¯t even-¡± she broke down into quiet sobs. Mark motioned for Les to approach. ¡°It¡¯s OK, Reena. Let¡¯s not worry about it, OK? I guess those hearts are just a bit jumpy, yeah?¡± He stood up. ¡°Why don¡¯t you and Les go take a little break. Get a drink. A clean, uh, clean suit.¡± He looked to his companion. She seemed less than excited, but nodded, handing over the patrol wand. She took Reena¡¯s hand and helped her up. After they left, Mark took a closer look at the jars. A few minutes alone here now would mean a few more minutes for the rest of the lab later. The objects floating in the viscous pink juice weren¡¯t moving. A voice calling for help. Jars leaping from tables on their own. If he hadn¡¯t seen a door that he himself had destroyed back in one piece after just minutes, only a few days ago, he¡¯d never believe Shareena¡¯s tale. Should he touch it? Ice poured through his veins and a shudder shook him. Just the thought of touching something so alien--Dan¡¯s words from the parking lot jumped into his mind. Alien. No, that had been a joke. Then another memory, Zack again, after the previous accident, ¡°We can¡¯t just grow these.¡± No, there was another explanation. They couldn¡¯t be grown here, is what he must have meant. They came from another lab, but were studied here. Before leaving he checked the computer, but learned nothing new. It was all nonsense to him. After finishing the patrol he found the two women in the cafeteria. The door had given away his entrance, so he didn¡¯t know if they had been talking before he entered, but now Reena stood and said, ¡°Thanks, I should really get back to work now.¡± ¡°Take care,¡± Les offered. Mark took her to the lab entrance, the metal detector made the deep booping sound this time. ¡°Let us know if you need anything,¡± Mark said as she went through the door. Once she was gone he returned to the cafeteria. ¡°How¡¯d it go?¡± The young woman shrugged. ¡°We talked about books. I thought it best to get her mind off of the lab for a bit.¡± ¡°Thanks, that was smart. I know this is all still new to you, but Shareena has seen things, and so far she¡¯s the only lab tech that¡¯s been willing to talk about them. Everyone else treats everything like some big secret.¡± ¡°Like the door.¡± ¡°Exactly.¡± She stared at him in silence for another moment before asking, ¡°You don¡¯t believe those jars actually just fell off the table on their own, right?¡± Mark turned, unsure of how to answer. ¡°Come here, I want to show you something.¡± In the lobby, he pointed to the metal detector. ¡°Sometimes, that doesn¡¯t go off when you walk through it, even with a gun on your hip.¡± ¡°Wait, seriously?¡± ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± he said, continuing to the office. Once they were both inside he pointed to the monitors, ¡°Sometimes these will go black. They¡¯re still recording, just the feed goes black.¡± ¡°Why?¡± He shrugged. ¡°Just wanted you to be aware of these things so they don¡¯t freak you out when it happens. If you see anything else weird, let me know. We¡¯ll try and figure this all out together.¡± He looked at her, she stared back. ¡°So, cookies at midnight?¡± She was nodding and had a new look on her face: determination. She was part of the team now. All that was left for Mark to do was figure out where to focus his attention during the limited time he would have in the lab. Day 7, Alone in the Lab [Reader Poll] Les did her job well, greeting everyone in the break room with the trays of cookies, asking them their names, and introducing herself. Mark stood in the security hall, looking through the one-way glass until everyone had left. As far as he could tell. He really hoped he didn¡¯t bump into anyone that decided to stay behind in the labs. Moving down the hall and into the changing room, Mark once again went over his options. He had already decided to call Dan¡¯s bluff and ask Wanda for a tour of the locked room in Neuro, so he didn¡¯t feel a need to try and get in there on his own. Not yet, anyway. However, he still hadn¡¯t decided the best way to tackle the lab as a whole, and now it was go time.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The patrol route went in a roundabout way, but passed through each room. Supposedly. If he followed that order he wouldn¡¯t get lost, and could move faster. If he tried to go in reverse order, he might get a little turned around, but then he¡¯d be seeing each room from a new perspective, possibly catching something he hadn¡¯t seen before. There was another option, however, but it was risky. He could not follow the patrol route at all, and simply go room to room in a more random way. This might take a little longer, giving him less time in each room, but with the maze-like layout of the lab, with so many doors in all the hallways, he had always wondered if it was possible there were rooms the patrol route passed by? Unlikely, but this was the only way to have a chance at finding out. Day Seven, Part Two Vacant, as expected. Mark¡¯s plan was a good one, he knew, but it could have been easily botched by a single tech leaving the lab later than the rest. There was a chance they might not recognize him in his street clothes, but if they did they would have immediately known something was wrong. For now, he had the changing room to himself. Keeping his back to the camera as best he could, he quickly dressed in one of the white clean suits. He had made up his mind. The best option was to enter the labs in a white suit, then wander the labs in a methodical way, checking every door and hallway, but in a way that didn¡¯t correspond to the patrol route. This made it unlikely that anyone who might bother to view the camera footage could figure out it was him. If they did figure it out, he did, of course, have an excuse. He was taking the opportunity of having Les there to watch the door in order to become more acquainted with the layout of the labs. This had the bonus of being both true and something he¡¯d likely have done even if he had no suspicions. After all, if an emergency happened and he needed to get to a specific room, he couldn¡¯t very well run through the patrol route, losing precious time. Why the white suit instead of the blue? He didn¡¯t want to alarm anyone that might have stayed behind in the labs. Again, both true and likely. The best lies were always both true and likely. Entering the Nexus he turned left. There were eight doors in this room. The exit, or entrance, he had just come through, then, moving from right to left, the first door was where his patrol usually started. The second door was one he had only ever been through as a shortcut to Cardio. The third door he would exit out of about halfway through the patrol, and then enter back in through the fourth. The fifth door he had never been through. The sixth was where the patrol ended. The seventh, directly to the left of the Nexus entrance, was where he was headed now. It was another door he had never been through. Mark entered, counted to twenty, as usual, annoyed at the loss of precious time. He had already decided that since he was likely to get lost and need to do some backtracking, he would spend no more than one minute in any room, unless he found something of particular interest. There were twenty-one rooms on the patrol route. One minute each meant about twenty-five minutes, when including travel time between rooms. That was half the available time. If something that needed additional investigation was discovered, this would give him plenty of leeway in studying it. The next door opened to one he only knew as the route number it corresponded to, as was the case with most of the rooms. Room twenty was one of the bigger rooms in the labs. The ceiling in here was unusually low, with bright lights at regular intervals, that shone down on what he could only describe as small operating tables. They were metal and flat, with a control panel for adjusting their height. On closer inspection it looked like the panels could also control the surface temperature of the tables, allowing them to be heated. He played with one panel, discovering the temperature could go as high as ninety degrees Fahrenheit. This room, in particular, had been one that always bothered him. It reminded him of a morgue, but the tables were much too short to fit a human body on them. Now the tables were clear, but during patrols, the techs in this room were usually inspecting various ¡°organs¡± on the tables. Mark glanced around the room then approached one wall which had a long counter. On the counter were various flasks, tubes, and trays covered with instruments, many of which the purpose and function were unknown to him. Below the counter were many cupboards. He opened a few to find sealed organ transport crates. This was where they stored the organs when they weren¡¯t being analyzed, he presumed. He didn¡¯t dare open any, for fear of ruining something. It was time to move on. Other than the door he¡¯d come through, there were two exits from the room. Both were doors he¡¯d normally pass through on his route, so he chose the one on the right. It opened into a hallway which led to room twenty-one, the final room on the patrol. Though a smaller room, twenty-one was crammed with computer stations. A large pipe hung down from the center of the ceiling, through which many cables, ranging from power to ethernet, descended, spreading out to the surrounding standing desks. Along the walls were rolling tables with microscopes. Mark looked into a few of these, but the trays had been emptied for the break. Turning his attention to the computers, he once again found them to be unhelpful. The screens were filled with what appeared to be form reports, which asked questions or called for measurements that were meaningless to him without context. He attempted to see if there was anything else on the machines accessible to him. Good old reliable alt-tab brought up a new window. It was some kind of instant messaging system. Did every computer have this on it? Clicking through some of the tabs, with names of different rooms or projects on them, he found very little conversation that he could follow. Again, without the context of the projects or specific scientific knowledge, it was like reading a foreign language. Checking the time stamps on the messages, it seemed that most days the chat rooms available to this station were devoid of conversation. Hitting alt-tab again, the screen returned to the reporting form. He kept the IM system in mind as he moved on. Three exits from this room. One he had entered, another led to the Nexus. That left just one door he had never been through. From what he knew of the layout, it should lead to nineteen, Neuro. It did. An odd feeling of unease crept into him as he slowly opened the door, peeked in, then, finding the room empty, entered. He was on the opposite side of the room from the locked door. That door filled his mind. He had to get in there. No, he had to look around, see what else he could find in this room. There were computers, and the locked door. But the computers might have something interesting, and the door must contain something interesting. But the door was locked. He moved towards one of the trays, to examine the instruments on it. His finger was reaching for the keypad. What keypad? He was standing in front of the door. Shaking his head he turned. Hadn¡¯t he come in here to find something? Yes, to find out what was behind the door. No? Yes? Wasn¡¯t Wanda going to show him what was behind the door? He needed to see what he could find on the computers. Moving to one of the computers, he pushed a number on the keypad. The keypad. Of the door. The unease within him swelled. The desire to get in the door crushed it. Instinct took over, as it had so many times before in his life, and he ran. Sometime later he came to himself. Where was he? Why was he breathing so hard? Glancing around he recognized room eighteen. Laryngology. He held onto the word. This room was where they, supposedly, worked with replacements for the larynx. What had just happened? He vaguely remembered standing in front of the locked door in Neuro, an overwhelming need to get through the door consuming him. He remembered running for the closest exit. Not more than thirty seconds could have passed from entering and exiting Neuro, yet in his mind, it seemed to have happened so many long years ago. Almost as if it had been a dream. Taking a deep breath, Mark shook his head. The actions of the scientists from the previous night rising to his consciousness. They had moved as one. Spoken as one. They had seemed surprised when they realized it. Creepy, Les had said, and she was right. Now he had moved, against his will, acted, against his own interests. Creepy was not right. It was terrifying. Once again Dan¡¯s words came to his mind, ¡°where we keep the alien body.¡± No. There wasn¡¯t an alien. And he wasn¡¯t insane. This wasn¡¯t happening, it hadn¡¯t happened it was all just¡­ what? What was wrong with him? Closing his eyes tightly he just breathed. He wasn¡¯t crazy. He wasn¡¯t crazy. There was an explanation. His mind raced but could come up with nothing. Instead, he counted. One, two, three, four, five, six¡­ Slowly his heart rate slowed, his breathing became normal. He didn¡¯t have time for this, he had to move on. All he was gathering was more questions without answers. A part of him wanted to return to nineteen, see what was going on, but a deeper part of him repelled the thought. That part of him wanted to run away from the lab altogether, get as far as possible. Mark looked around the room. It held nothing of particular interest to him, and he found himself inclined to follow that primal flight desire just a little more. Moving to the only other exit, he entered a T-shaped hallway. He knew that the door to his right would lead back to Neuro, and straight ahead to seventeen. Conscious of how scared he was, a sensation foreign to him, it was no surprise that he found himself hugging the left wall and moving quickly ahead, practically jumping through the next door. Seventeen. He had made it. For some reason Mark had expected to find himself back in front of the locked door, punching in numbers on the keypad. His whole body convulsed in a quick shudder. Embarrassment flooded into him. Thankfully, he was alone. The Marine had slipped quietly behind enemy lines, surrounded by thousands of armed combatants that would kill him on sight. He had been under intense mortar and sniper fire. More times than he could count he had been immersed in the most dangerous situations, where the slightest mistake would mean instant death, or worse: capture, torture, then execution. Never had he felt fear. This lab, however, had changed that. Closing his eyes he calmed himself, reclaimed his sanity. There were explanations. There had to be explanations. He was tired. Not enough sleep, with long nights in the lab. His imagination and exhaustion were simply overwhelming him. Opening his eyes, Mark refocused on the task at hand. Plastic shelled stations sat in the middle of the room, bright lights from within providing most of the ambient light. Holes in the sides of the shell led to rubber arms for manipulating whatever might be inside. Stepping closer, he saw that there was indeed stuff inside. Grotesque fleshy objects he didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Organs¡±, he assumed. Attached to the sides of these stations were monitors. As usual, they showed nothing of interest to him. These appeared to be touch screens as well, with no keyboards or mice attached. If the IM program were on there, he didn¡¯t know how to switch over to it.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The clock in the corner of the screen caught his eye: 00:28. Shit. He must have taken longer to get a hold of himself than he thought. It¡¯d been more than fifteen minutes since he had entered the labs and he¡¯d only been through five rooms. Time to move. Three doors, other than the one he¡¯d come through. One was the usual entrance, another most likely led back to the Nexus, but he wasn¡¯t sure having never been through it. Quickly he opened the door, recognizing the following hallway immediately as one of the decontamination chambers. He had been right, it would lead back to the Nexus. That left only one more door. Crossing the room, he reached for the handle. Fear of the unknown gripped him. What if something happened again? What if he was caught in some psychotic episode and lost control? Just the thought made him shiver. Turning the handle, he opened the door. What was this? A small closet, full of supplies, with a bare back wall. He took a moment to look through the boxes on the shelves. Jars of chemicals, boxes of syringes, scalpels, and other various tools, even a couple replacement rubber gloves for the stations. Nothing unexpected. He picked up one of the custom microscopes and turned it over. Made in Japan. Heavier than he expected. Setting it back down he took one more inspection of the little room. Was that really a wall? Taking a step he got up close to the back of the closet. A barely visible edge outlined a large rectangular shape. Like a thin door. Gently he put his hand up and pushed against it. The fairly well hidden passage opened, just a little, some force pushing back against him. It shut itself as he let up on the pressure. Pushing again he glanced up. The hydraulic door closer was no different than all the others in the lab, but this one was set to a higher tension, closing quickly, more forcefully. And there was no handle. It was obviously a door, but not obvious that there was a door. Why? The now familiar sense of dread began to spread out from his chest. The Marine¡¯s response was anger. Enough. He didn¡¯t care what was behind this door, or any other door in the lab, for that matter. What was the worst that could happen to him that he hadn¡¯t already put on the line a hundred times before today? He pushed against the door, opening it a full ninety degrees before it stopped. A slim passage, barely enough to walk into without turning sideways, led about eight feet before stopping at a wall. This wall also had a hydraulic door closer attached to it, giving away what otherwise appeared to be a dead-end in the dimly lit corridor. Mark inspected the door he held open. There was no handle on the back either. Could it even be opened from that side? If he entered and this door closed behind him, would he be able to get out of the small hallway? Without the light coming from the closet, it would be pitch black in there. And the door would close quickly. Searching the shelves, he found nothing heavy enough to hold back the pressure of the door, but at least he could keep it from closing all the way by wedging a box in the opening. The hall was quite dark. Memories of a gas mask left in a door jam to keep it from closing sprang to his mind. Someone, or something, had moved that mask, and that door had closed. Luckily that door had been made to open from either side. This door was not. Embracing the anger he felt in response to his growing fear, he left the safety of the propped open door and felt his way along the empty walls to the opposite end. Running his hands across the wall was useless, there was simply no purchase to grip in order to open the door. Perhaps without the marshmallowy gloves of the clean suit, it would be different. This was insane. Who would put a secret passage in a lab, with no light, and no apparent way out? There had to be some trick to it. There was always a trick. Turning he moved back to the supply closet. Searching the boxes of various syringe sizes, he chose the biggest available, then grabbed a scalpel. Carefully he cut through the needle-side of the syringe to open it up. Now there was just the tube and plunger. The cut wasn¡¯t perfect, though. He needed a seal. He kneeled down and opened the box of replacement rubber gloves. Using the syringe tube as a guide, he cut a small circle out of the rubber. It would ruin the gloves, of course, but it was a risk he was willing to take. There were two replacements, it was unlikely they¡¯d need both at the same time. Now that he had a circular piece of rubber, he cut out the center, to make an O shape. Replacing the scalpel and moving back into the corridor, he shuffled his way into the darkness until reaching the far wall. Mark placed the rubber O against the edge of the door, where a handle might normally be, then he pressed the cut end of the syringe tube into the rubber, creating a seal. Pulling on the plunger created a makeshift suction cup out of the syringe. It was just enough to let him pull the door open an inch before the seal broke and the door closed. He tried again. This time, when the door opened, he managed to hook a finger around the edge before the pressure released. It was all he needed. The door opened into another small closet. Quickly grabbing a box from a shelf, he propped open this door. Then he placed the syringe and the jury-rigged O-ring on top of the hydraulic door closer¡¯s box. It would be there if ever needed. Moving back into the newly discovered closet, he opened the door which led to room eleven. Discovering a secret passage between closets was interesting, but in the end, it just created more questions. Why have such a passageway? Was it originally intended as a connecting hall, but then it was decided that storage areas would be more useful? Then why have such dangerous doors, that could lead to people getting trapped? Did the scientists even know about the passage? Where there more of them? A minute later all of the boxes had been put back, the doors closed, and Mark was standing in room twelve. He was running out of time, and twelve was one of the rooms with a door he¡¯d never been through. It opened into a hallway, like so many of the other connecting hallways. The door at its end opened into room nine. Nine was one of the largest rooms. Perhaps the largest. It was hard to say because it was divided into two sections, in an L shape. He was in the long part of the L, on a side of the room he¡¯d never been on. A ways down the wall on his left was where he usually entered the room. He had often wondered where this door had led, now he knew. He also now knew what was on the other side of the shelves that stuck out from the wall to his right. Nothing. It was nice to have some questions, however benign, answered. Passing the shelves he turned to his right. Here was where nine was divided by long, thick sheets of plastic that hung from the ceiling. Pushing his way through the plastic wasn¡¯t difficult, but once on the other side, the temperature dropped significantly, while the ambient noise rose. Two large HVAC systems pumped cold air into this area, creating what as essentially a large fridge. The redundancy made it seem very important that this area remained cold. More shelves were in this room, filled with all kinds of jars, organ transport crates, and even several cases of bottled water. He assumed they weren¡¯t for drinking since he¡¯d never seen them used. There was simply too much for him to go through in this room, and too little time. There were still a few rooms left with doors he had never opened. After his find in room seventeen and eleven, mystery doors were a top priority. So he continued right through the fridged area, and into room ten. As soon as he entered room ten he approached the door on the left, wondering if he¡¯d find another closet, connecting hall, or something new. It appeared to be a connecting hall. Quickly he pressed forward, finding himself in room five. Crossing the room he opened the door to the puzzle-piece hallway, then continued into room six. Across the room was another mystery door, and he wasted no time. It opened into a closet. All three sides of this closet were shelved. He stepped up to the back shelving and move stuff around until he could get a good look at the wall. It didn¡¯t appear to contain any secret door, but just to make sure he checked the other two walls as well. Nothing. Just a closet. Turning to leave he gripped the handle, turned it, and pushed. The door didn¡¯t budge. Mark frowned and pushed harder. ¡°Help me.¡± He twisted, pressing himself against the door and scanning the tiny room. The whisper, it hadn¡¯t come through the comms but sounded like it came from just behind him. It was desperate. There were only shelves. Mark¡¯s heart was racing. His hand wanted to reach for the pistol, but his mind knew it wasn¡¯t there. He had given it to Les and hadn¡¯t yet purchased a new one. The gun Sherman had given him, nothing more than a toy, was back in the Security Office with his uniform. He wanted it now, as he peered through the cartons that lined the shelves. It may not fire, but it could still be used as a weapon. He calmed himself. It hadn¡¯t been a whisper. Just his imagination. Bracing his back against the door, he gripped the handle, turned it, then pushed with both legs. The door didn¡¯t budge. Still gripping the turned handle, he threw himself into the door. It wasn¡¯t there. Tumbling to the floor in surprise, Mark fell flat onto his back, still gripping the door handle. He raised his right hand to look at it. There was no door handle, there was a pistol in his hand. It was the one Sherman had given him. The one he¡¯d left back in his locker. The one he¡¯d so desperately wanted just moments ago. The door to the closet was slowly swinging shut, the entire handle was missing. Mark scrambled backward, out of its way, before finally standing. What the hell had happened? Scanning the room quickly, intensely, he noticed the camera. The camera. It would have caught it all. There was yet one more door he had not opened, in room four, but all desire to investigate it had left him. All Mark wanted was to get out of these labs and find out what that camera had seen. He sprinted towards the door he had come through, it opened before him. No one was there. It had opened on its own. Suppressing the shudders and panic rising within him, the Marine charged through the door. The door to room five opened for him as well, then did the door to the decontamination chamber, followed by the door to the Nexus, each one swinging wide before him, letting him pass through without slowing his pace, each one setting off alarm bells inside his head and increasing the fear rising in his heart. As he reached the exit from the Nexus it didn¡¯t open, and he had to stop. Opening the door he heard one last whisper, as if from a long distance, ¡°We can help each other.¡± Slipping through the opening he pulled the door closed behind him. The changing room was still empty. Mark was breathing hard, his heart pounding. Voices reached his ears. Muffled. They were coming. Quickly unzipping the clean suit, he tore off a glove and reached into his pocket, pulling out the keyfob. Mark leapt across the room to the security door, unlocked it, and opened it just as the main doors to the changing area were opening. Again he slipped through the opening and pulled the door closed. To his left, through the one-way glass, he could see the line of lab techs pouring through the hallway, heading back to work. The time had gone by so fast. Too fast. The door in Neuro, the secret passage, the closet that wouldn¡¯t open and now this. He hefted the pistol in his hand, looking at it closely. It was definitely the same one Sherman had given him, Mark recognized the serial number. Was this what insanity felt like? Day 7, To Tell or Not To Tell [Reader Poll] Never had Mark felt as crazy as he felt at this moment. Was this schizophrenia? Some things he¡¯d seen, others had also seen. Or at least he imagined they had seen them. How to know for sure? Could someone who had gone insane know if they were insane? He had to show the pistol to Les. He needed to know if she could see it. If it appeared to be a pistol to her as well. He could look up the video of the room as well, see what happened to keep him from opening that storage room door. If anything. Would it show the doors opening on their own as he ran from the lab? He had to find out, and he needed to show Les, to make sure he wasn¡¯t crazy.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Day Seven, Part Three Every smiling face that passed by on the other side of that one-way glass deepened Mark¡¯s unease. It was almost as if they were laughing at him. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his ungloved hand. The smiles were a good sign. It meant that things had gone well for Les. Opening his eyes he watched as the door to the lobby closed, the last few scientists making their way to the changing room. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that the last one, Wanda, was staring straight at him. No, it was just an accident. Her eyes darted, looking at the mirror side of the glass as if trying to see through it. But she couldn¡¯t. She wasn¡¯t smiling. Was she upset? He closed his eyes and shook his head. No time to worry about Wanda right now. The door at the end of the security hallway opened. Les looked happy. She was about to speak when Mark put a finger to his lips. He wasn¡¯t sure how much sound would make it through that glass. They stood in silence, staring at each other, her face growing concerned as she studied him. After the door to the labs finally closed behind Wanda, Les said, ¡°Well, you look like hell.¡± The Marine became very conscious of the fact that he was still breathing hard, his heart still beating wildly. He managed a slow nod. Seconds slipped by as the girl waited patiently for him to calm enough to speak. ¡°Les, I need you to make me two promises, and do me one favor.¡± She shifted her weight and cocked her head. ¡°What happened in there?¡± Shaking his head, he repeated, ¡°Two promises and a favor. Then I¡¯ll tell you.¡± Pausing only a few seconds, Les finally shrugged. ¡°Fine.¡± ¡°First, promise that you will never go into those labs alone.¡± He could see her stiffen. ¡°If you ever enter a room and there¡¯s no one else in it, you get out of there A-sap. No looking around. No lingering. Got it?¡± ¡°You¡¯re kind of scaring me.¡± ¡°Good.¡± She jumped a little. It had come out louder than intended, hard, with a dose of the anger that had been boiling inside him as a response to his fear and embarrassment. Closing his eyes, Mark took a deep breath, then continued, softer. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Just promise me.¡± He opened his eyes and she was nodding. ¡°I promise,¡± she whispered. He nodded. ¡°Now, promise me that you are not part of some sick joke.¡± He held up a hand to stop her, ¡°But before you do, understand that I am not a person to be messed with. If you are part of some prank, now is the time to tell me, or this is not going to end well.¡± He lowered his hand. ¡°I promise, Mark. Right now I¡¯m completely freaked out.¡± Even from this distance, he could tell that she was starting to tear up, and it wasn¡¯t just the cracks in her voice. Then that option was closed. Or if it wasn¡¯t, then she was a victim, same as him. ¡°Last thing. In my locker, on the top shelf, is the pistol that Sherman gave me. Get it, and bring it here.¡± She turned and moved back into the office, the door closing automatically behind her. He could hear the muted clang of the locker as she shut it. The door opened again and she approached, holding the pistol like a platter in her hands. ¡°Read the serial numbers on it.¡± As she began reading, he turned away from her, holding the pistol that had appeared in his hands so that she couldn¡¯t see it. Every number and letter she spoke matched. When she finished, he turned and held out the pistol. ¡°It¡¯s a match.¡± ¡°What?¡± He offered her the gun and she took it, comparing the serials. ¡°That¡¯s not possible, is it?¡± Shrugging, he moved past her. ¡°Wait, where did you even get this?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll show you.¡± Beeping his keyfob, Mark opened the door to the Security Office, then moved to the chair, Les close behind him. The cameras showed a crowded changing room, most of the lab rooms still empty, but for a few of the lab techs that had finished changing quickly and were walking around, getting back to work. Focusing on the monitor that included room six in its rotation, he pulled up the controls and started rewinding the footage. The viewing angle wasn¡¯t ideal, but it could see the storage room door, and one of the exits. A few seconds of rewinding and a speedy, white-suited blur came running backward into the frame from the bottom of the screen. The pair watched as the odd experience played in reverse at high speed. Once the white suit returned from where it came, Mark hit play. There was something disturbingly surreal about watching the white clean suit walking onto the scene, knowing that it was him inside, and it had all happened only a few minutes ago. Even though he¡¯d just watched the entire thing move backward at high speed, Mark kept expecting the recording to lie. This time, it didn¡¯t. About thirty seconds after his image entered the closet, the door closing behind him, Mark pointed at the handle. ¡°There. See it?¡± ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know, but I¡¯ve seen something like it before in the labs. I was with Reena at the time, and we both saw it.¡± Something that looked vaguely web-like had reached out from the blank wall and attached to the door handle. The distance from the camera made it hard to discern, but he felt it was similar, if not the same, as the thing he¡¯d seen once on his reflection¡¯s shoulder. The two guards watched the screen intently, waiting for something to happen. Les gasped and even jumped a little. The handle and mysterious web had both disappeared. At the same moment, the door flung wide, white-suited figure falling out onto the floor, gun in hand. It was all there. Mark¡¯s muscles relaxed in relief. ¡°Did you find this gun in that room?¡± ¡°No. The handle became the gun.¡± She looked at him blankly, then back at the screen, the figure running towards and beneath the camera, leaving the room. ¡°What do you mean?¡± It was a lot to take in. He understood her confusion. ¡°I know it sounds crazy, but just before the door opened, I had been trying to open it, but it wouldn¡¯t budge. Then I heard a voice in that little closet with me. But I was alone. Then I wished I had brought the pistol with me. Even if it didn¡¯t work, it could still be used as a threat or even a club. That¡¯s when the handle turned into the pistol.¡± He could tell that she was trying to process everything she had just seen and heard, and it wasn¡¯t processing well. ¡°I don¡¯t want to scare you, Les. I know that all of this is strange. Maybe it¡¯s even frightening you a little bit. But you don¡¯t need to be afraid.¡± Did she? ¡°I¡¯ve had some bizarre experiences this past week, and everyone here seems to be keeping a secret or two, but as far as I know, no one has ever been hurt here. Jeremy has been here for years. Most of the lab technicians have been here for years. The place may be creepy, and have lots of questions to answer,¡± he refused to let memories of the top floor surface, barely able to suppress the shudder that was creeping up his spine, ¡°but it¡¯s safe here. You understand?¡± Did he understand? Wasn¡¯t he terrified just minutes ago? Eventually, she nodded. He thought about looking at the other monitors, seeing what they showed of the doors opening on their own as he fled the lab, or viewing his experience in Neuro. But he had seen enough for now, and Les certainly didn¡¯t need to see any more. She was barely keeping it together as it was, even trying to hide her growing anxiety by folding her arms to calm her shaking hands.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Let¡¯s go do the perimeter check. Get some fresh air.¡± He stood, took the pistols from her, and opened his locker. He placed the pistols on the top shelf then pulled out the heavy coat and started putting it on. Les moved to her locker and began putting her own coat on as well. ¡°If it¡¯ll make you feel any better, I¡¯ll bring this.¡± Removing the shotgun, he slung it around his shoulder. Her eyes went wide, but she was nodding and the hint of a smile finally showed. ¡°Yeah, yeah that probably would make me feel a little better.¡± ¡°Come on then.¡± They left the office together, Les¡¯ shoes tap-tapping as they crossed the lobby. ¡°You should get some quieter shoes.¡± It was still snowing when they exited the lobby into the dark night, a thin layer of the flakes coating the sidewalk. ¡°You want to lead or should I?¡± ¡°You, please.¡± Mark kept the shotgun tight against his chest with his right hand, his left holding the flashlight as they moved down the walkway towards the gravel pathway that ran alongside the chainlink fencing. Turning left onto the path, they would first walk up one side of the parking lot, cross the back, checking the gate on the way, then down the other side, following the fencing all the way around the building back to where they started. It was a significant distance, taking around thirty minutes if he walked fast. Tonight, he took his time. It felt good to be out of the laboratory. Even though it was dark and cold outside, he felt distinctly removed from the nightmares inside. Nightmares he still wasn¡¯t sure how to handle. Whenever he wasn¡¯t in the labs, his experiences there felt surreal, like part of some dream. He wasn¡¯t sure if he really believed them. Once back inside, though, he wouldn¡¯t be able to ignore their reality. For now, he was enjoying the magical silence of the falling snow. They turned onto the path. The sound of gravel crunching beneath boots had been there on previous nights, but with the unusual quiet of the current weather, it seemed so much louder. Crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch. The rhythm of his steps mixed with Les¡¯ to create a strangely hypnotic beat. The soldier in him wanted to switch his gait to match hers, but he resisted the urge. A beam of light swept the parking lot to his left. Les was checking it out. He kept his own flashlight focused on the path ahead as the light behind him moved from the parking lot to the fence and the area which had been cleared around it. About thirty feet of dirt and rocks, with the occasional tuft of weeds, all now covered with a fine white powder, rest between the fence and the forest. A fence with barbed wire was no good if someone could just climb a tree and jump over it, so a dead zone had been created. ¡°It¡¯s warmer than I expected.¡± ¡°Hrm?¡± ¡°I mean, it¡¯s still cold, obviously, but, this is my first time in snow. Just moved here a month ago. I expected it to be colder.¡± ¡°Ah,¡± Mark felt himself starting to relax, and some part of him resisted. You don¡¯t relax in combat situations. He pushed that part aside. This wasn¡¯t a combat situation, and his nerves could use a break. ¡°Well, the air gets warmer while it¡¯s snowing. More the other way around really. It¡¯s snowing because the air near the ground is warmer. That pushes the water in the air upwards, where it¡¯s colder. It freezes then falls back down.¡± ¡°It¡¯s kind of magical.¡± Mark smiled. ¡°I think that every time. Never gets old.¡± Crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch. A few minutes later they reached the gate, both lights flashing off the metal outline as they crossed the road it blocked. Everything looked normal. Mark stepped back onto the gravel path. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch. He glanced behind, unsure if he and Les were now in step, or if she wasn¡¯t following him. As he turned, she called out, ¡°Mark.¡± She was still by the gate, only a few feet away, light shining on the ground. The gravel crunched as he turned, but he didn¡¯t take a step. Les¡¯ flashlight shone off the snow and a slick, pink, web-like, thing. She was starting to kneel and he yelled, ¡°Don¡¯t touch it!¡± The girl started and stood back up, her eyes still locked on the entity. ¡°What is it?¡± The Marine attached his flashlight to the clip under the shotgun¡¯s barrel and pointed it towards the spot. ¡°Step back, Les.¡± She looked up at him, saw the gun pointed at the ground, and quickly moved to the side, then around until she was next to him. ¡°What is it?¡± she repeated. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but it¡¯s the same thing from the camera.¡± The girl moved closer to him. ¡°Are you sure?¡± It was a fair question, and although he was sure, he didn¡¯t know why. It had been hard to really discern from the recording what was on the door, but this was definitely the same thing he¡¯d once seen on his own shoulder, reflected in the glass of the lobby windows, and he felt that¡¯s what they had seen on the door. The same thing he and Reena had seen in the lab, attached to the camera. He took a step. It wasn¡¯t moving, just laying there in the snow, across one of his bootprints. Another step. Mark switched off the safety on the shotgun. To his right, he saw Les stiffen. She had noticed. Feeling the tube switch on the shotgun he flipped it from the left to the right tube. Using a finger he snapped down the action bar lock and slid back the rail quickly. The action made a satisfying chack-chack as an orange shell ejected, clattering on the gravel, and a new shell was chambered. ¡°Les, grab that, please.¡± She didn¡¯t even hesitate, quickly kneeling, grabbing the shell, and pocketing it. Taking a few more steps, he stared down at the pinkish thing. Snow was starting to gather on it. He wanted to shoot it. Or smash it under his heel. The nightmare was following him out of the lab. It was invading his world. ¡°We should probably get one of the techies.¡± In response, Les¡¯ light swept across the parking lot, towards the building. ¡°You want me to go?¡± He nodded. ¡°Alone?¡± Tearing his eyes from the meshy-pinkness, he looked at her. It was too dark to make out her hooded face. ¡°Would you rather stay here with that?¡± he motioned with the shotgun. The beam of light from her flashlight wobbled as she shuddered. ¡°Get Dan. Or if he¡¯s busy, then Reena.¡± ¡°OK. I¡¯ll be back quick.¡± She started to run, and Mark returned his focus to the thing. ¡°Wait!¡± he shouted. What was it doing? He heard her footsteps approaching quickly, her light focused once again on the entity. ¡°What is it?¡± She sounded more worried than curious. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ dissolving?¡± The pink hue had quickly turned white, the glistening strands drying, thinning, and now breaking. The pair of guards shivered, though not from the cold, as they watched the mysterious object disintegrate into the snow over a few seconds. Silence. Falling snow. Two beams of light focused on a bootprint. The moment continued a long time. Was it too cold? Had the thing been riding on his back again, but fallen off because of the cold? It was the only answer Mark could think up. The bootprint was too perfect, so he hadn¡¯t stepped on it, and there were no marks in the snow, so it hadn¡¯t gotten there on its own. It must have fallen to the ground. A sniffle. Was she crying? No, it was probably just the cold. ¡°Les, would you check my back, make sure there¡¯s no more of those things on me?¡± She walked around him, flashing the light up and down. ¡°I don¡¯t see anything. You really think that thing was on you? That¡¯s creepy. Anything on me?¡± He did the same for her but found nothing. ¡°Well, let¡¯s keep moving.¡± Switching back on the safety, he turned back to the gravel path. Les followed. Crunch-unch, crunch-unch. What if that entity had been the cause of everything? If it could turn a door handle into a pistol, complete with serial numbers, then could it fix a busted door? Could it write a message on a mirror and make it disappear minutes later? Was it capable of interrupting or altering the digital communications between camera and monitor? Could it speak? Or, could it make you think you had heard someone speak? If it could do that, could it completely take over a person¡¯s actions, make them say things, or do things? Crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch, crunch-unch. It was dead. It was as if his skin had been coated with iron, which had suddenly melted away. Was it all over? Could he let himself believe that? Hope. It was a powerful emotion. He found that he was smiling. Perhaps it was premature, but until he had reason to doubt, he would cling to that hope. ¡°So, Les, where are you from?¡± he asked cheerfully. ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you in a good mood. Guess your cookie party went well?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Yeah, it had a rough start, but ended up pretty good.¡± She put her arms around him. ¡°And the new girl? When is she working your shift?¡± ¡°I should find out tomorrow. Hopefully sometime this week. I¡¯d really like a chance to meet up with the guys while they¡¯re in town.¡± Pulling him closer she said in a teasing tone, ¡°And what makes you think I¡¯m going to let go of you for one minute on your first day off?¡± Then she kissed him.