Untitled (9 page)

       "You can't be serious," Flannigan snapped. "They're far too big to be human. I know that much."

       "I said almost human," Megan corrected him. "Where did this happen?"

       "Just outside of Westow." Harrison drew a deep breath. "Near the lake."

       "I want to go out there," Megan said. "Can you arrange it?" She looked at Harrison.

       "No problem. When do you want to go?"

       "As soon as possible."

       "Oh Jesus, oh Jesus," Blondie muttered between aching breaths, unwilling to look over her shoulder. Seeing them once was enough.

       When she'd arrived to relieve the night shift she'd discovered the front gate unlocked and had immediately blamed that arsehole Norman. He just didn't take the job seriously. Sid wasn't much better, strutting around like the cock of the roost because he had a gun. Well, they'd all been issued with firearms, the difference being that Blondie – real name Hannah Stevens – had no qualms about using hers if the need arose. The guys were just pussies.

       Blondie had searched around for the padlock, hoping to present it to the night shift losers. The thought of being able to write up another report against Norman raised a smile. She hadn't forgiven him yet for getting his dick out when they'd been posted together. Why could a man not understand that sometimes a woman can be friendly without wanting sex?

       After a thorough look around she realised the padlock was gone which meant even more paperwork. She'd have to fill out a requisition form in triplicate and fax it to the boss. It'd probably be easier to duck out later and buy one out of her own pocket. That would also mean she would be baling those two wankers out of the shit. Fuck it, she'd fill in the forms and let them take the flack.

       "OK, Norman, unlock and let me in," Blondie spoke into her radio and looked up at the remote camera on the wall, knowing that Norman always followed her approach to the cabin.

       She slipped the radio back onto her belt and marched across the courtyard to the portable security cabin, her home from home for the next twelve hours. She wanted to get settled in and sort the paperwork out before the team arrived. Blondie liked to be prepared, doing a tour of the grounds prior to everyone starting work. She liked to think she gave them the sense of security she was hired for.

       Halfway across she stopped and looked down at her feet, the wet mud underfoot sucking at her boots with each step. Thick clods of dirt clung to the sole of the steel toe-capped work wear.

       
'Funny,' s
he thought. 'I
t didn't rain last night.'

       Blondie walked the rest of the way on her toes; she'd clean the boots after the changeover was complete. She neared the cabin and stopped, turning back to the camera, surprised to notice it hadn't turned to watch her progress. She shook her head in disgust and pulled out the radio once more.

       "You'd better not be sleeping again," she snapped into the mouthpiece. "You're already in deep shit for not securing the place last night." Neither Sid nor Norman answered.

Keeping hold of the radio Blondie increased her pace and rounded the corner of the cabin. The first thing to hit her was the smell, a heady stench of rotten meat and excrement.

       "Fucking hell," she gagged, bending double as morning coffee burned its way up her throat and squirted from between clenched teeth.

       Once her stomach had finished rebelling Blondie spat, sucked air into her lungs through her mouth and looked up at the security cabin. She saw the blood and all thoughts of paperwork were erased. She replaced the radio, unclipped the holster and withdrew the pistol, holding the grip tightly in one hand and supporting it with the other. Her mind worked quickly, taking in every inch of the courtyard in one swift glance. Blondie had been right, it hadn't rained last night and the pulp on her boots wasn't just wet mud.

       She moved towards the metal staircase that ran along the side of the medical centre and up to the security cabin above. The stairs where stained with blood. It was half dried and gave the grilled steps the appearance of having rusted, the illusion ruined by the clumps of meat that were scattered everywhere. The white, outer wall of the medical block was covered in wide splashes of browny-red and Blondie had to look away from what looked like a scalp, the matted hair stuck in place like a bizarre work of art.

       Blondie swallowed, tasting the mix of vomit and recycled coffee. She raised the pistol and ascended the steps, feeling the pulpy softness of the remains under her feet. Her heart began to race, thumping against her rib cage like a tribal drum.

       "Norman?" she called out softly. "Sid?" She didn't expect any kind of reply and she wasn't disappointed.

       The cabin door was hanging ajar at an odd angle, one hinge torn from the frame. The door itself had been destroyed, the plastic coated alloy a mass of dents and parallel runs of long gashes, claw-like tracks that had torn clear through to the inside.

       The smell had intensified and Blondie pulled her woollen jumper up over her face, but it did little to mask the aroma. She kept the pistol raised in one hand and pushed at the door with the other. It grated against the floor, but swung wide enough for Blondie to step inside.

       The lights were out; the room left in a murky half-light as the morning sun pushed its way in through the tinted windows and revealed the destruction of the office. Nothing had been left untouched. Filing cabinets had been thrown on their sides, the contents scattered around the one room structure. The control centre no longer existed, the computer, phone and camera system nothing more than a shattered husk of plastic and wires. And then there was the blood, even more than outside. It was like someone had redecorated a slaughter house.

       Blondie felt her mind spin, a light-headed rush that threatened to envelope her in unconsciousness. She needed to leave, to turn and run away from the living nightmare she found herself standing in. Her vision began to blur and she would have keeled over if it hadn't been for the noise, a wet slurping that gave her something to focus on. She needed a purpose and held onto the sickening whisperlike sound of clotted milk being sucked through a damaged straw.

       She raised the pistol and pointed it towards the source of the noise on the far side of the overturned desk and cautiously stepped forward. She saw Norman first, his empty eye sockets staring sightlessly at the ceiling. For a moment she couldn't look at anything else, fixated on the dark hollows where his eyes should have been. The madness pushed at her, wanting to take charge and Blondie had to fight to keep control, to stay conscious. She leaned over the edge of the table, forcing herself to see what had been done to the rest of Norman. She also discovered what had done it.

       It didn't look up, oblivious to Blondie's presence in the room. It was too busy feeding from the open cavity of Norman's stomach, moving its head backwards and forwards as it drank greedily.

       Blondie moved the barrel of the pistol until is was in line with the back of the things head and, with her thumb, pulled back on the hammer. As it clicked into place the creature stopped eating. It snapped its head around to face her, thrashing out with a taloned hand and throwing her across the room. For a brief second Blondie felt as if she was lighter than air, the sensation lost as she came down hard on the edge of one of the filing cabinets. She wanted to scream, but the blow left her fighting for air as a searing pain flooded her lower back.

It stood up and faced Blondie, a lecherous grin spreading across the blood slicked face. Blondie saw it fully and her sanity finally exploded as she recognised the creature for what it was.

       "Sid?" she stammered.

       
'How could the half naked beast be Sid?'
A tiny part of her mind questioned the crazy logic.