William Meikle - The Hole

“Something like that. If the CDC is here, it could be a chemical agent, acting on our brains.”

She’d momentarily forgotten that others were listening. Within seconds the room was full of animated conversation, those who were able to relating all of the weird shit they had seen at the time of the collapses.

“I done told you already, it were black helicopters.”

“No… Ruskies. I saw them, clear as day.”

“Weren’t no Ruskies. Not unless Ruskies can grow fangs and make their eyes glow in the dark.”

It seemed Janet was indeed onto something. Each person that had seen something had experienced it in a different way from anyone else.

But there’s something else.

It was Bill who voiced what was starting to worry her.

“I’ll tell you something for nothing. There’s more going on here than the CDC knows about. Those holes aren’t in our heads. Neither were the bodies we found at the Hopman place. And another thing… Doc and I both saw that… saucer… come up out of the ground.”

Fred spoke up.

“And I wasn’t the only one who felt the ghosts or saw things move around. Whatever is going on here, it’s communal. Did you ever hear about anything like that, Doc?”

And just like that, Janet felt fear grip at her, hard, a cold chill on her spine she couldn’t shake.

“No sense in speculating,” she said. “If it is the CDC, they’ll be here soon enough, and we’ll see what we’ll see. For now, just keep warm. And stay alert.”

The only way to keep her mind from racing was to work. She busied herself tending to the wounded, making sure everybody was comfortable. She was relieved to find that everyone seemed more or less stable, although many were weak and wan.

“Bill,” she said. “We need to get some hot food and drink inside folks.”

“That’s our first priority,” he agreed. He looked over at the bar. “Charlie. Put that beer down and get into the kitchen. See if we can rustle up some field rations?”

Once again the older man threw the sheriff a mock salute. He didn’t put the beer down, but he carried it with him as he headed for the kitchen. Fred Grant moved to join him, but Sarah Bennett wasn’t having any of that. She held tight to Fred’s arm, pulling him back into the seat.

“Don’t leave me,” she said. She looked like the thought of being left alone was enough to have her quivering with fear. Fred sat back in his seat, and the girl snuggled up against him, as if his presence alone calmed her. Once again Fred looked more than slightly embarrassed.

Janet smiled.

“Stay put, Fred, I’ll give Charlie a hand in the kitchen.”

“Check out the cold store and pantry for provisions,” Bill said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?” Janet said, surprised to hear panic rising in her voice. It wasn’t just the new girl who needed the comfort of having someone she trusted stay close by.

Bill pulled her into a hug.

“Don’t worry. I’m just going to check the situation outside. I want to be sure we’re safe before we set up what might be a permanent camp.”

He gave her a peck on the cheek and left. Janet immediately felt a twinge of fear and uncertainty. She pushed it down.

He’s the sheriff. He can take care of himself.

She also knew that the only way she’d be able to stop worrying was to do something, anything, while Bill was away. She turned from the door. Ellen Simmons smirked at her as she made her way to the kitchen.

We’re going to have more trouble from that one.

But all thoughts of Ellen Simmons were completely forgotten when she entered the kitchen. The room was dark, black shadows creeping in the corners. It felt cold, clammy almost.

“Charlie?” She had meant to shout, but somehow all that came out was a strangled sound, hardly more than a whisper. “We haven’t got time for silly games.”

In reply, the sound of metal scraping on metal came from farther inside the room.

Janet walked past the serving area to the kitchen proper. Charlie was there. He was on his knees, hands clasped behind his head, cowering, as if afraid of an impending beating. Three shadowy figures stood over him. The only light came from the bar behind her so Janet wasn’t able to see too clearly, but it was obvious that whoever these men were, they weren’t wearing HAZMAT suits. It was equally obvious that they weren’t here to help. They all carried rifles, all three of which were pointed at Charlie’s head.

Janet didn’t think consciously about her next actions. She fumbled for several seconds at the wall before her fingers found what she was looking for. She hit the light switch, at the same time sweeping up a skillet from the nearest work surface. She threw it at the closest attacker, screamed at the top of her voice and threw herself forward. She was still moving, heading for Charlie, when the pan hit its target. The man, if that was what he had ever been, fell apart like a burst bubble. The other two attackers also collapsed, first at knees, then at hips, and by the time Janet got to Charlie, he lay in the center of a spreading pool of gloop . The skillet clattered loudly against a cabinet and thrummed for a second before lying still. The only sound was Charlie’s stifled sobs, quickly followed by heavy footsteps and alarmed voices from the bar behind them.

A quick check showed that Charlie appeared to be unharmed, but he was still sobbing, quietly, holding it in like a child frightened to make a noise. He looked up at Janet, eyes red and snot dripping from his nose.

“Don’t let anybody see me like this,” Charlie said. “Please, Doc?” He grabbed her arm and held tight. “Please, Doc?” he said again, little more than a whisper.

“I’ve got your back, old man,” she replied.

She shouted out, just as the kitchen door opened and Fred Grant burst inside.

“I’ve got it,” Janet said, keeping herself in front of Charlie so Fred couldn’t see him. “It’s just a kitchen accident. We dropped a couple of pans.”

Fred stood in the doorway. She saw the confusion on his face.

“Is Charlie okay?” the youth asked.

Janet forced herself to smile, and kept her voice steady despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to run.

“He’s fine. Too much excitement for one night, that’s all. I’ll give him a hand in here for a while. You go back and sit with the girl. She needs the company.”

“If you’re sure?”

She nodded, and Fred left them, none too reluctantly. When Janet turned back, she found Charlie staring at the mess on the floor around him.

“What the hell is this shit?” he said.

“What’s left of whatever attacked you,” Janet replied, aware even as she spoke how far into the Twilight Zone they had descended.

These were no thought forms. Whatever is going on, it’s definitely physical. And just as definitely weird as all hell.

The older man didn’t seem to be able to process the information she’d given him. He stood, staring at his feet, his fingers fumbling with a battered cigarette packet, trying to get a smoke.

“Here, let me,” she said.

She took the packet from him, took out a cigarette and passed it back to him. Even then she had to help him hold his hand steady to use the lighter. He sucked in the first gasp as if his life depended on it. When he looked back at Janet, confusion was written all over his features.

“They were Vietcong,” Charlie said. “I’d know those bastards anywhere. But what where they doing here? And where did they go?”

She had no real answer. She looked at the floor, then up at the too-bright lights above. She remembered Bill’s devils had similarly fallen apart… in the sunshine, in the light. An idea started to form.