I fire a test shot at the ceiling just to make sure it’s loaded. Okay, that’s not true. The gun goes off in my hand and freaks me out. I stumble back, point it at Thing 1. His hands go up, his eyes wide.

“Stay back,” I say, stepping backwards even further. I bump into the table. I note a crack in the dividing glass now separating me from the team. The bullet must have ricocheted and hit it. That’s good. Confirms this gun has real bullets.

“Jack,” comes Jim’s voice.

I make my way towards the exit, barrel trained on Thing 1. He’s smiling now, which is freaking creepy.

“Jack, don’t do this,” says Jim.

With my eye on Thing 1, I find the door handle. It opens, and I step out into the hallway, shutting the door behind me. I look left, right, and bolt down to the left. I find a door to the right. It’s open. I burst inside.

It’s freezing in here, dark and very dry. The room is stacked full of computer servers. They are lined in long columns, like isles in a grocery store.

I book it down an aisle. There’s a door at the far end of the room. It’s locked. There’s another door near the corner. This one opens easily.

Behind this door is a semi-circular room, dimly lit, with a low ceiling filled with vertical glass tubes of water. And inside the water are … bubbles. Nothing but bubbles. Kind of a let down, really. You’d think they’d have clones or a monstrous alien or … oh, oh. Wow. What in the name of all that is good and holy is floating around in that tube? I edge closer to it. I’m so confused. Why would they have a—”

“Hey,” comes a voice. “Who are you?”

I spin around to find a pudgy man with a neck beard holding a 44 oz styrofoam soda drink.

I suck in a breath and point the pistol.

“Whoa,” he says, dropping the drink and raising his hands. Coke splashes everywhere.

“Your badge, toss it over here,” I say.

“Yep,” he says, fumbling, hands shaking. He plucks it off his collar and underhands it to me. It lands and slides. I stop it with my foot.

“How do I get outta here?” I say, as I pick it up.

I look at the badge. His name is Bill Rolls.

“Uh,” says the man.

“How?”

“Up,” he says, “Elevator.”

“Where, Bill?”

He holds up a finger to consider, then reaches for his pocket.

“Whoa, whoa,” I say.

“It’s an interior map I made,” he says, tossing that over as well. “This place is like a rat maze. I’m just a tech, please don’t shoot me.”

I pick up the map. It indeed looks like a rat maze. From the first glance, I get the impression this place is massive.

It’s hand drawn, but I can make out where we are. At least, where I think we are. There’s a prominent rectangular room labeled servers next to a semicircle room he calls “freakshow”. There are long hallways labeled sleep quarters with a number of small squares. I assume they are rooms. Mine has to be one of those. I trace the map with a finger, from my room, to here, through a number of rooms to where the big penciled-in star is next to the word elevator. Then I pocket the map. There is a nice big pouch right on the front of my jumpsuit. Very handy.

I look around, no door besides the one I came through. “Is there any other way out of here, other than through there?” I motion to the server room.

“Uh,” says the man.

I tighten my lips and shake the gun.

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His forehead sweat glistens from the eerie blue light of the tanks.

“If you go out here, and around the corner, there’s a—”

“Take me.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, buddy,” he says, his hands still raised and trembling. He crabwalks sideways towards the exit, and opens it wide.

“A little faster, Bill,”

He turns and hustles along the back wall of the server room. I follow, gun at the ready. As we approach a door I see light from the hallway appear all the way down at the other end of the room. No doubt a pursuant discovered where I’d slipped into.

Bill opens the door without the need of his badge. It’s a lab. Dozens of high-end science-y tables fill the room. Computer monitors are attached to some sort of scaffolding rack mounted to the ceiling, each hanging down in turn. There’s a couple people wearing white lab coats in the corner. One of them is showing the other something funny on their phone. They’re giggling until they see us. Then they freeze.

“Sorry to interupt your cat videos,” I say, as I follow Bill through the room and to another door. “Don’t mind us.”

We enter a storage area. Or, that’s the only way I know how to describe it. It’s full of containers. Most of them plastic and metal of all shapes and sizes. It’s set up with aisles of shelving the same way the server room is, like a grocery store.

“You’re doing good, Bill. How much further?”

He’s panting now. “It’s. Uh. A bit. Uh. Further. This way. Sir.”

Finally, we get through to the other side. Bill stops, puts his hand on the handle, leans forward to catch his breath.

“In a hurry here, Bill.”

“I need my badge … uh … phew .. for, for this one,” he says. “Hallway access. Always need a badge for hallway access.”

I hesitate, then toss the badge at him. He scans a small metal pad by the handle. It responds with a beep.

“Toss it back,” I say.

He complies and opens the door.

I follow him out into the hallway. It hits me how bright the lights are in the hallways compared to in there.

He takes a right turn and the hallway opens up into a lobby area. It looks like any other lobby you’d find in any corporate office building. Only, no windows. There is a screen showing a lovely live beach scene, however, mounted in between two elevators.

“Over there,” he says. “Can I go now? I’d really like to not die today.”

I’m about to say, “sure, Bill, go live a long and fulfilling life,” when Thing 1 stands up.

I didn’t even see him there, on one the dark green couches scattered around the lobby area. Suddenly, people are appearing from everywhere. From this hallway, that hallway. A door bursts open from over there and three people converge on me.

“Drop the gun, Cobb,” Thing 1 says.

I look behind me, to the left, right. They are everywhere now. Most of them are not army personnel, I note. Most are lab coats. And most of them are not armed. But enough of them are.

I drop the gun.

“Kick it away,” he says.

I kick it.

Thing 1 has a pair of rubber gloves and handcuffs with him.

“Nice attempt,” he says, “I’ll give you that.” He’s wearing that creepy smile still.

“Playing cat and mouse turns you on, does it?” I say.

He tosses the gloves and cuffs to me.

I swallow, stare at them on the ground. I can feel people slowly converging on me from behind. I make a quick, rash decision.

I suck in a breath, step behind Bill, then grab the man by the sides of the head.

“Don’t come any closer or I’ll do it,” I say.

Thing 1’s eyes widen.

Bill makes a confused squawking sound and tries to pull my hands off his ears. I pull him to the side, towards the elevators. “Don’t move!” I shout at Thing 1.

He doesn't, just stands there. His smile changes, however, from creepy to something else entirely.

“Stop,” says Thing 1, pointing to a group of army guys, who, apparently, don’t know what I was capable of.

Bill and I scuffle towards the elevators. He’s huffing and puffing. His hands on mine. He’s probably so scared and confused. A part of me feels bad for the guy, but that part is buried deep under a pile of panic and desperation at the moment.

I’m so close I can almost touch the button to the elevator.

“Jack!”

I look over. It’s Jim. He forces himself through a group of people.

“Back off, Jim!” I say. “You’re a liar and a … a bad friend.”

I reach behind me with one hand, finger around for the button, and …

What happens next is not entirely intentional. I’m suddenly floating above the swirling black hole. We both are, Bill and I. I feel bonded to him in a way I’ve never felt before. I can see into his mind. His mother’s name is Nancy. He misses her and wants to tell her he’s sorry for something but can’t because he’s too much of a coward. He’s embarrassed that his pants are soaking wet, and wonders if Susie and Stan, standing over there, will make fun of him for pissing himself under duress—if he survives, that is. His hamster's name is Captain Fuzz Bucket. He just started a new diet and is determined to see it through this time.

I open my eyes and Bill is gone. All of his clothes are on the floor in front of me.

There’s no blood, no lingering limbs.

Bill is entirely gone.

The only thing that remains is the distant smell of Axe Body Spray.