T-Plus 2

The creaking grew more frantic as the cacophonic sounds weaved together like a horrific cinematic symphony. The soft rattle crescendoed into a clamor of squeaks and groans. The shaking ensued, the quiet, dark room making the noise all the more apparent.

Oliver flicked his light on, keeping it angled toward the floor. He brandished the beam, locating the fire extinguisher from before. It was surrounded by some of the scattered pen holders and documents from their barricade building earlier. Toast was already making his way for it, crawling one hand or knee at a time.

The closer Toast got, the slower he moved. Oliver could see the scientist's head constantly eyeing the door and window, freezing every time something shifted. He was finally close enough to pick up the extinguisher after a long game of "green light, red light."

Toast pointed the nozzle at the barricade, his fingers fumbling at the pin near the handle. As if sensing all the danger that a clumsy scientist with an extinguisher could pose, the barricade's shaking stopped. Toast stopped; Oliver stopped. Both humans stared at the door, the light beam illuminating the bottom corner of it.

After a moment of hesitation, Toast edged closer to the barricade. The swish of his pants sweeping the floor, catching or moving papers, as he walked in a low crouch and the intermittent clacks of his flashlight shifting in his pocket were now the loudest sounds in the room. The scientist lugged the extinguisher with him, cradling it within his arms as if the burden made him braver.

As he stepped within touching range of the barricade, it resumed its previous fervor. Toast jumped back, sprinting and sliding back to his original position beside Oliver. He skidded, slipping on some nearby papers, and landed on his butt, emitting a nice and audible thud cracking above the irregular rattling.

"Holy shit," the scientist hissed, hugging his new toy.

He fumbled with the pin on the handle, not quite pulling it right each attempt. Oliver rolled his eyes, gesturing for it.

"Hand it over."

They switched tools. Oliver got the canister after trading his flashlight over. He glanced at the problem pin Toast had been messing with. The extinguisher was the standard issue one they kept in the labs. It was easy to operate and handy when an explosion set fire to nearby work stations. Everyone, especially lab leaders, were told how to work one. Obviously, that lecture was one Toast opted not to attend.

With a simple pull, his free hand on the nozzle already, the pin popped out of its slot with a click. Oliver gestured at the door again, and began to run toward it, keeping his head low. Toast ran on the other side of the conference table, only a step behind.

The rattling intensified the closer they got. Oliver waited, his fingers holding onto the clutch to spray whatever got in. This close to the barricade, they could see the legs of stools clacking together as the entire construction shook. Some of the odd, smaller boxes they had set on top had already fallen, their contents emptied out around and under their feet. The shaking was now at its loudest, and even the heavy filing cabinets they shoved in were wobbling in place, leaning to and fro and loosening up everything else.

Toast furrowed his brows, stepping back a few steps. He flicked the light sideways, flashing it out the window and even holding it in place for a bit. Oliver bit his lip, edging away from both the window and Toast.

"Hey, let's try something. Let's go back over there."

This time taking unhurried steps, Toast led the way back to the other end of the office. Oliver raised the nozzle at him. Why the hell was he so calm?

"Come on!" the scientist shouted, raising his voice.

Oliver did as bid, wanting nothing to do with Toast's maniacal tendencies. Toast was standing by the window, pointing the light out through the cracks in the blinds. The aliens were still out there, their bodies covering most flat surfaces, including the ceilings and the tops of tables. Their original barricade had been split into two, tipped over and shoved aside. There were none on the window itself, the closest being the one that sat on the nearest lab table. The light itself pointed at each of them, confirming their existence. None of them moved toward it.

Even the rattling, that was so intense earlier, had quieted to a standstill. Toast shooed Oliver away from the window, sitting down on the edge of the conference table.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"They're still like the ones from Floor A," Toast observed. "They have eye sockets, but can't see light."

"If they're similar to the ones downstairs, then they shouldn't be able to hear either, right?" Oliver concluded, remembering his and Toast's tests from one of their previous escapades.

"Yeah, and to make sure, I just tested it too," Toast agreed. "I still don't know how they can sense us, but the rattling stops when we're all the way over here."

"So like before, they can sense us when we're in their vicinity."

"Yeah, but their range has extended a good bit," Toast said, waving at how far they had to stand. "But we should be fine in this corner for now."

Oliver set the extinguisher down on the table beside Toast. He plopped on the ground across from him, leaning against the wall with his head back. The tension left his body, and was replaced by more exhaustion and pain, his constant companions. He untied his bootstraps, ripping them apart before tugging his boots off between bouts of manageable pain. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pulled his pant legs up to his knees. It felt as if he was ripping off his own skin, the resistance making it a process. The bandages Emerson had wrapped around his legs had become soaked, a stinging mix of blood and sweat.

"Woah, are you okay?" Toast asked, cutting his speculations short.

He crouched beside Oliver, setting the light pointing upwards. The other flashlight was set up the same way on the other side, lighting up their corner. Now the full extent of Oliver's legs was revealed. The blood was seeping out to the floor, staining the ground where his legs rested a dark red. This was the worst it'd been. Toast helped pull apart the soaked gauzes, revealing the miserable mess that were Oliver's legs. The scientist took in a cold breath as the technician hissed when his legs were once again exposed to the biting air.

"Shit, did those things eat your legs?" Toast muttered as he shoved the pile of dirty bandages out of the way.

The missing skin hadn't regrown. A thin layer of scabs covered where it was missing instead, connecting what had remained. The rough transition up the stairs and the pressure of heavy-lifting had opened what had been healing for the third time now. The pain ate at him more than the blood could worry him.

"What do we do?" Toast asked, taking one of the lights and searching around the room.

"Bandage," Oliver spat through gritted teeth. "Medicine."

"Bandage, okay. What medicine?"

"I don't know."

"Shit, we'll have to improv this."

Oliver watched as Toast scrambled to search the wall cabinets. He opened all of them, slamming them shut before opening the next one.

"Where does Soup keep the first-aid kit?"

Toast turned his light toward the barricade, wavering over the filing cabinets hidden behind stools and chairs and smaller shelves.

"Fuck."

He discarded that idea, running his light across the room again. Oliver followed the beam as he clenched his thighs, concentrating on the centralized pain. The light passed over the clothes rack where they hung extra lab coats. Toast also stopped, rushing over to them and pulling them off their hangers.

Crouching beside Oliver, Toast began to rip the sleeves off. Once the sleeves were off, he proceeded to shred the rest of the coat into shreds. He had a pile of uneven strips beside him, the new form of the three coats he had massacred. He wrapped Oliver's legs with them as tight as possible, tying his masterpieces with a clumsy bow.

"It should be okay now?"

"Hurts like hell," Oliver said, grunting in pain.

"Can you stand?"

Oliver pressed his hand against the wall, putting a gradual weight on his legs. They radiated with pain, intensifying the more he straightened. He shook his head, sitting back down. The pressure lessened, although it was still a biting pain.

"What are we supposed to do?" Toast fretted.

"There are painkillers and stuff in the clinic," Oliver said.

"Okay, so now we... I need to make it out of here."

"Sorry," Oliver groaned, grimacing as he switched the position of his legs. "I can't help you."

Toast waved his words away, searching the cabinets and walls with his flashlight again. He paused on the fire extinguisher. The scientist moved it beside Oliver, setting it within arm's reach.

"Just in case they get in after I leave."

"How are you going to leave?" Oliver asked, pulling the extinguisher closer to him.

The scientist pointed the light beside Oliver's legs. A vent, about the size of the one he and Soup had crawled through some days ago, was still intact. The grate was already off half of its hinges, and dust covered it.

"Do you know where that leads?"

"Nope, but it leads out of here. You got a better idea?"

"No."

"Okay, then just stay put. I'll be back."

Toast kicked the grate open, sliding it away from Oliver. With the flashlight in his left hand, the scientist got on all fours and squeezed his shoulders into the vent. A few grunts later, Toast's shoes and thuds of his knees disappeared into the darkness. Oliver dragged the extinguisher closer, and grasped the flashlight in his hand.

He was alone. The barricade rattled lightly.