Vending Machine Lunch (18 page)

Fighting back
tears, Johnston forced himself into motion down the pitch black
vent towards the vent storage chamber, as the blood curdling
screams of pain erupted from his com-link ear piece. He tried to
block them out and concentrate on getting to the grill that was
preventing Jay from getting out of the vent storage chamber.

“Oh Christ! It’s alive! It’s alive Johnston! It’s
everywhere! It’s fire! It-“

The com-link
cut dead.

Johnston
hurriedly got to the grill and looked inside the storage chamber.
There was no-one there. Blood was smeared everywhere, some of it
had even seeped out of the grill and onto Johnston’s knees. He was
too late.

Grabbing the
grill with both hands, Johnston sobbed. A burning sensation crept
to his palms and with a jolt, Johnston leaped back from the grill,
tears still pouring painfully. The grill was burning hot. Johnston
stared at his burnt hands, tears dripping on them.

“Johnston?”
it
was Josh.

Johnston didn’t
even hear, his head was racing. Why was the grill so hot?

“Johnston!? You there?”

Johnston didn’t
hear again. Ignoring the transmissions received from his ear-piece,
he continued to sob. He had been so close. So damn close! Why had
he stopped when he did? Why had he rested? He was furious with
himself; anger and rage exploding round his body. It had all been
for nothing! He’d failed! And he had also endangered the lives of
everyone else trapped in the facility by delaying the sending of
the emergency transmission.

“Johnston goddammit! Answer me!”

He snapped back
to reality, “What?”

“Oh thank God! I thought you were dead! I didn’t want to
crawl in there and get the transmission card from your
remains.”

“Do ever think
of anyone but yourself? Shut up and wait for me. Don’t you worry,
you’ll be able to see your beloved Jaimie soon, not that she’ll
ever have an interest in you, you flop haired freak. And by the
way, Jay is dead, I was too late. Thanks for asking you heartless
knob.”

Johnston knew
that his comeback sounded pathetic, weak and child-like, but he
didn’t care. It had been a bad day. Crying all the way, Johnston
shuffled his way out of the vent.

He apologized
to Josh when he got out.

“I’m sorry
Josh. I didn’t think. I was just angry. It’s all my fault, I took
too long,” Johnston was still crying.

“It’s okay,
it’s my fault. I guess I forget that we’re all scared here. I’m
sorry for being selfish,” Josh grabbed Johnston’s leather and blood
coated shoulder affectionately, “Thanks for announcing I love
Jaimie over the com-link anyway. I’m gonna get a tonne of abuse for
that.”

He smiled
through tear filled eyes. Johnston followed suit.

“I’m surprised
Jacob didn’t give us a lecture about com-link etiquette,” said
Johnston, chuckling and coughing slightly.

They both stood
there for a minute, an awkward silence as they both recouped their
thoughts. They were all pessimistic.

“Right. The
transmission,” Johnston said.

“Right.”

They entered
the Communications Office. It was a large room, with one control
desk at the centre of it. The room looked unusually clean, as
though it hadn’t been touched by the invasion of the possessed.

Johnston strode
to the control desk and observed its CRT monitors. One was blank,
claiming no input feed was available, the second displaying inane
statistics and figures and the third stating that an emergency
transmission card was required. Johnston grabbed the card from his
jacket pocket.

“Wait.”

It was Josh.
Johnston spun around to see he was holding is emergency weapon at
him.

“J-Josh!? What
are you doing?” exclaimed Johnston.

“I can’t let
you do it Johnston buddy. I just can’t. The Ninety-Nine, they’ll
kill us all.”

Johnston
couldn’t believe it. He had had enough. It had been a hell of a
day, he wanted a tobacco stick and he wanted to go home.

“Get that
weapon out of my face!” he yelled, raising his own weapon, the
emergency transmission card still in his hand, “Are you gonna shoot
me?”

Josh looked
doubtful, “Think about it Johnston! Do you really think the
government will let something as big as this slip into the public?
Think of all the conspiracies that exist today! This will just
become another one!”

“You’re
nuts!”

“I don’t want
to shoot you Johnston, just don’t put the transmission card in the
slot. Think about this! The entire facility will unlock, unleashing
this hell upon everyone! Maybe that was the real aim of this
facility, to clean up everything? Either that, or we’ll have the
Ninety-Nine on our arses. We’ll be evaporated from the land.”

In-between
them, both sweating it out and aiming guns at each other’s necks,
the CRT monitor that once claimed it had no input feed flickered
on. It was Jacob.

“Johnston! What’s keeping you? Put in the card
now!”

“He’s not doing
it Jacob,” said Josh to the CRT monitor.

“He can’t see
or hear you, you know,” said Johnston, feeling pressure rise in his
chest.

“What do you
mean he can’t, of course he can. Some monitors have lenses on
them,” said Josh.

“I can see and hear you Johnston,”
said Jacob, his tone cold and
unfriendly,
“Now this is an order, insert the card into the slot.
Now.”

“Don’t do
it.”

“Ignore him. Obey orders.”

“Ignore him.
Obey common sense.”

“Shut up! Just
shut it both of you for one second!” screamed Johnston. His chest
felt unbearably tight.

Both Josh and
the CRT fell silent. There was a pause, mostly filled with Johnston
wasting time.

“Don’t do it,”
uttered Josh under his breath.

Jacob heard.
“Johnston, you are instructed to obey orders.”

“If I don’t,
what do we do?” Johnston uttered in return to Josh.

“Johnston, might I remind you that disobeying orders under
an emergency situation will result in an immediate dismissal of
your job and your public rights.”

“We run and
hope to God they don’t find us.”

“Not to mention the sanctions received by disobeying orders
of an employee higher in the hierarchy than you-“

“For the last
God damn time!” yelled Johnston, “You are not above me you moron!
Get off your fricking high horse and put them pom-poms down! You
are not above me!”

He shot the CRT
monitor, cracking the lens and screen. There was a bang as the
electrical equipment inside the CRT short circuited and
sparked.

Johnston
slipped two more shells into his weapon.

“Thank you,”
breathed Josh, “Thanks for believing me-“

“What in the
land makes you think I believe you?” Johnston snapped, “I don’t
want to be dragged into your world of inane make believe
conspiracies. Now get that God damn weapon out of my face or I’ll
shoot you!”

He raised his
weapon back in aim. Josh didn’t move.

“Don’t call my
bluff,” Johnston snarled.

Josh continued
his silence, keeping the gun aimed at Johnston, as though he was
trying to pick up the nerve to shoot him.

“Final
warning,” said Johnston.

Still no
reaction from Josh.

Johnston shot
Josh, the shells hitting his knee cap. Just like Fat Jerry had
done, Josh collapsed to the floor, this time with a scream of pain.
Johnston kicked Josh’s weapon out of reach.

“I’m sorry
Josh,” he said over Josh’s moans of agony, “But I want to have my
dose of tobacco and go home.”

Johnston
slammed the emergency transmission card into its slot. The CRT
monitor that requested the emergency transmission card began
displaying a wall of text that Johnston didn’t understand before
displaying acknowledgement that the card had been inserted into the
docking slot.

!! == Emergency
Transmission Card Detected == !!

Uploading Emergency
Transmission Data…Done!

Processing Emergency
Transmission Data… Done!

Authentication Key…
Done!

Sending Transmission…
Done!

Thank you for using
Deimos Facility Processing Systems.

Union Aerospace >
Umbrella.

The CRT screen
then jumped to a live camera image of the exterior of the facility.
It was there, bold as brass on the CRT monitor, the red lights had
just activated, however, something was wrong. The facility was
surrounded by people who looked vaguely military, all in formation
around the perimeter of the cylindrical structure, all illuminated
in the ghostly red light.

Johnston leapt
back from the CRT monitor. The Ninety-Nine? The thought spread
across his head like a disease. His thoughts turned back to the
moaning Josh, still on the floor in unbearable agony, blood seeping
everywhere. Had he been right? Had Josh and his bizarre
conspiracies been right? Johnston was in no situation to be able to
count the figures on the CRT screen, but it looked like they all
had weapons.

He stared at
his emergency weapon. The small copper panel that held the number
0110 gleamed at him. He had shot Josh for no reason. He had been
right.

“I… told… you…
so…” Josh uttered, looking ready to faint from the pain, “I… told…
you… they… were…”

“Oh God Josh,”
said Johnston, throwing his weapon down and crouching down to his
level, “Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so, sorry.”

“You made the right choice Johnston,”
Jacob’s arrogant, cold voice came through
the com-link ear piece, making Johnston jump,
“Now come to the Entrance
Hanger. I have something you’ll want to see.”

“Yeah, a bullet
for my head,” said Johnston, ripping off the ear piece, “C’mon
Josh, we need to get out of here. There is a back way I know of. We
can sneak out of that and then get you some help.”

“No..”

“What!? C’mon,
we can make it. I can do this, I can help you!”

“I’d… slow…
you… down…” hissed Josh with the little energy he could muster,
“Get… out… oooohh… it… hurts… Johnston… the… possessed… are… the…
Requiem…”

“No way,”
Johnston stifled tears, “No way. I’m not letting you die here.
You’re gonna make it out with me. And you’re gonna see Jaimie. And
you’re gonna tell her you love her. And you’re gonna have fifty God
damn kids with her, do you hear me!?”

But Johnston’s
audience had left him, either passed out or gone to a better place.
Furious, Johnston beat his fist on the floor, causing Josh’s
spilled blood to splatter up his arms. For the second time he was
angry with himself. Why had he been such an idiot? Every choice he
had made had gone wrong, and he was angry at his lack of the super
power known as hindsight.

He forced
himself up, grabbed his emergency weapon and exited the
Communications Offices via a second door, opposite to the one he
entered. Immediately spooked by the dark corridor that faced him,
Johnston checked his shells. Four left. Johnston slid down the dark
metallic corridor as quietly as he could. All he had to do was
reach the end, take a left, then up the stairs to the back
entrance. Then he could quietly slip out and hope to God no-one
notices him leave the exterior grounds. Confidence and assumption
to authority was all he needed. And luck that no possessed were
down the corridor.

Johnston gave a
sickening half laugh, half sob as he walked quickly, almost
running, as he thought about Josh. He had had no shells for his
emergency weapon. Josh couldn’t have shot him even if he wanted
to.

He turned the
corner. The steps and the metallic hydraulic slide door were in
front of him, illuminated brilliantly by white lights. Johnston
squinted at the sight ahead of him. It all looked a bit out of
place from the red and the blackness of everything else, the white
light pieced his eyes and stood out as something alien.

Johnston ran
towards the stairs, just to have the floor underneath him collapse.
The metal mesh panels fell about six feet, Johnston with them. With
a crash they landed, Johnston rather painfully on his side, on a
solid metal walkway.

Confused and
even more hurt than he already was, Johnston coughed loudly, picked
up his emergency weapon and looked around. Thoughts attacked his
tired brain on what the hell was going on. Why had the floor
collapsed? Why was there a second walkway underneath? How was he
going to get back up?

When he
realised that the stairs were just about climbing distance with a
jump and a fair amount of effort, Johnston concluded that none of
the questions invading his mind mattered in the grand scheme of
events, and made his way to where he was going to climb back
up.

Then he saw
where the walkway lead.

The walkway
began a few meters behind him, however, when right under the
illuminated steps to the exit, it bent off to the left. Johnston
stared down the walkway with a possessive, obsessive curiosity. It
was dimly lit by small red lights on the skirting sheets before
fading into darkness. It seemed to invoke a certain curiosity
inside him. Cautiously, he took a step down it.

He could hear
something. A distant bassy pulse, pumping at a high rate. It had
almost a hypnotic feel, drawing Johnston closer in, egging him on
into the depths of mystery; the unknown. He crept closer and closer
to the mysterious darkness that continued pulling him in. He forgot
about his pains. He forgot about the gravity of the reality he was
in. All that mattered was what was at the end of this corridor. He
had a burning curiosity and it had to fulfilled.

Squinting his
eyes, Johnston tried to make out what an object was, just after the
darkness began. It appeared to be glowing ever so slightly, moving
up and down. Or spinning. Johnston couldn’t tell. It looked
levitated off the ground, although Johnston was sure that was just
the darkness and the red light playing tricks on his eyes.