tenth instalment

Night Terrors

A loud blast rent the distilled air as the lock mechanism for the door was blown into the far wall, and as a shaft of light streamed through the dusty haze the door was kicked in. Johansson swept the room with his SPAS as he crouched and Grayson counter-swept it with his UMP45 and Johansson rapidly entered the room and gave the all clear. The three of them assembled in the center of the room and assessed the situation. The room they stood in was the first room at the bottom of the basement stairs; it was empty except for a few desks, a haphazard office for a few unlucky paper pushers. Two doors split from the room; one solid steel with reinforced hinges, the other a smaller door with a safety glass window. Saunders nodded to the safety glass door and Grayson and Johansson moved towards the door as Saunders knelt behind one of the desks, covering both the door they came through and the vault-like doors on the far wall with his M4.
The room on the other side of the lesser doorway was silent and dark. Dead generators stood frozen in place, their shadowy forms blocking most of the room. Johansson scanned the room and went left, Grayson did the same and went left, and keeping in eyesight they moved towards the corners on the wall with the door to look down. Their two vantage points let them see down the room behind all the generators. Johansson looked at Grayson and shook his head slightly; Grayson toggled his throat mic and whispered hoarsely “I’ve got a light source at the end of this run.” Johansson nodded and loped back to the center aisle and shadowed Grayson as he crept along the wall towards the halo of light. Grayson crept to a few feet past the edge of illumination; Johansson crouched and brought his shotgun up as Grayson reacted to a quick-moving shadow on the far wall. He had taken off his night vision to give him a better view of the area in the light instead of the green wash he was getting from the area.
The quick shadow was a hand moving across a bright camping lantern. A squat man, no taller than five foot six had pulled himself into the far corner of the generator room. He was balding, but a few short hairs along the side of his head showed he kept it shaved instead of going with a comb over, a gray beard of stubble gave his face a ragged look that wasn’t helped much by the wrinkled face and bloodshot eyes that screamed the fact he had been awake for far too long. Grayson’s hand shot up in the hold sign, hoping Johansson would see it and wait; he dropped to a crouch and quietly watched the man. He appeared to be muttering to himself, to soft for Grayson to hear. Grayson took the barrel of his gun and tapped it lightly once on the side of the generator, making a metallic clinking noise. The man by the light reacted quickly with his eyes, but his body was sluggish, he pressed himself up more against the wall but in doing so tilted to the left, sliding his back along the wall and revealing a deep red stain along the wall. As he looked closer, Grayson noticed a deep wound in the man’s side, about at his kidney. “Who’s there? Who the hell is that?” the man shouted, his voice was loud and betrayed a fear kept barely in check. Grayson said softly “Friends. Don’t shoot.” The man tensed at knowing there was actually someone out there, but lowered his gun a touch. Grayson took a step into the light, his UMP45 hanging from its sling but his right hand tickling the grip of his MK23 just in case. “Name’s Grayson, I’m with the local SWAT team. Are you ok?” The man looked up at him, hollow eyes betraying the edge of madness. “They took them… in the dark they came… in the dark… the screaming… echoes from the vault… won’t let them take me too…” “Sir? It’s ok, just tell us what happened.” “Us? Us?!” the man looked around frantically as Johansson stepped into the light. The man seemed to shrink back into the wall more, if it was even possible. “No! No! You can’t take me!” he half screamed and half begged. “We don’t mean you any harm, I’ve got some medical stuff in my pack if you just calm down, I can patch you up and we’ll get you out of here.” “No! No! I won’t let them take me! It’s a trick! You aren’t real! They’re just hungry again!” Before Grayson or Johansson could stop him, the man brought his gun up and fired off a shot, instinctively they both dove sideways. Barely had the sound of the impact come from behind where Johansson had been then the barrel of the pistol was in the man’s mouth, the echo of the bullet imbedding itself in the concrete wall rang in their ears, but was soon replaced by the sickening sound of brains seeping down a concrete wall.
Saunders ran to the door to the generator room and shouted to them, his back to the side of the wall next to the door, his body still facing the vault-like door. An all clear echoed through the dark room as the sound of their footsteps padded lightly towards the door. “What was that gunshot, Johansson?” “Sir, there’s a civilian casualty; poor bastard was off his rocker.” “So he’s dead?” “Yes sir, self-inflicted FUBAR of the brain. What’s the situation here, sir?” “Once you guys left, I heard some footsteps upstairs, and then there was a tapping from the other door. The footsteps stopped at the sound of the gunshot and I haven’t heard them since, but I think the taping might still be there.” Johansson nodded “Ok, so what’s the plan then?” “Grayson and I open the safe, you keep the stairway covered, and don’t worry about silence, if anybody was going to hear us, that last gunshot would have done it; and besides, it’s about to get noisy anyway.”
Grayson tailed Saunders to the steel door where they attached a few breaching charges to the bolts so they would blow the pins out and drop the door to the ground. They took cover as they blew the hinges, the four six inch long steel bolts were forced from the hinges and the door slowly fell outward. The room behind had dim green lights illuminating the area, glow strips imbedded in the ceiling, walls, and floor, backlighting the rows of pill containers since the power died. The taping had been coming from a halogen light fixture that was broken and hanging from the ceiling in such a way that it had been taping the door while it swayed. Grayson stepped cautiously into the controlled substance room and searched for useful medicines, ultimately filling a small messenger bag with various bottles of pills. As he left the room, the radio crackled white noise with the hint of a female voice behind it, nothing intelligible though. Saunders and Johansson both looked up, all three of their faces reacting. “Upstairs. Now. The concrete’s blocking the signal.” They all broke into a run at Saunders words and sprinted up the stairs and made their way to the lobby.