It was an annoying trek back to the door they’d come through. The ruined shelves, crates, and random items made it slow going. Several times John thought he was going to sink into the pile and be eviscerated by the broken shrapnel.
“So what’s the game plan,” asked John as they went.
“I actually…” Nel said distractedly as she climbed over a crate, “was thinking about that and came up with an idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Well before, I intended to simply wander around until we came across someone who had a plan. Or at the very least some semblance of what could be done to regain control of the facility. A part of me was hoping we’d find Marcus and he’d take over.”
“Yeah, not a great plan.”
She nodded, a grim look on her face.
“But spending the last few hours with Clayton got me thinking. We should be setting up safe zones for survivors to hunker down in.”
“Safe zones?”
“Secure areas…at least as secure as we can make them, where people can go to get supplies, recover from injuries, regroup, and gain information. If we can start establishing safe zones with whoever we find, they can be like little outposts throughout the facility.”
John rose his eyebrows as he nodded.
“Instead of trying to find a way to save the facility all at once we do it in stages.”
“Exactly, it also gives whoever’s left a fighting chance.”
“The more we establish also gives us better odds of coming across one again.
“Yes,” said Nel, excited John was understanding.
“Just one problem,” said Sasha up ahead as she stepped over a broken toilet, “that requires finding people like Clayton to set them up and keep them going.”
Nel nodded, a bit of the excitement in her eyes dying as she did.
“Of course.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to bolster our numbers as we go? Create a mobile task force that sweeps through the facility?”
“Why not both,” muttered John as he sidestepped a sharp section of shelving, “anyone who has skills to help us comes along. Anyone like Clayton stays put and sets up a safe zone.”
“We could probably even create multiple teams,” said Nel thoughtfully.
“Still,” said Sasha without looking back, “it assumes we find enough people and honestly I think our main priority is to get the rooms to stop moving before anything else.”
“I was actually wondering about that,” said John quickly before Nel could retort with the irritation evident in her eyes, “what do you think is causing that? Have either of you heard of an Anomaly that could do that?”
Nel paused a second in thought before continuing forward.
“No, I’m not even entirely sure where such an Anomaly would be found.”
“What do you mean?”
“Each Anomaly is given a ranking based on a color system. Green are safe, Yellow require caution, Red are dangerous, and Black is secret.”
“There are secret Anomalies?”
“No, as in what Black means is kept secret,” she frowned, “though based on the previous colors one could only imagine what it means.”
“How dangerous are the other two?”
“Well Yellow can kill a team,” responded Nel in a way that sounded like she was drawing from a personal experience, “and Red could take out a city or possibly even a state.”
“So Black is probably world ending?”
“Or worse.”
John gave her a pointed look that she didn’t see. He couldn’t imagine what could be worse than world ending and he didn’t want to think about it long.
“Anyways, I’m not sure what classification an Anomaly that rotates rooms would be placed under. And even if I did there’s no telling where it’s held now that the rooms are moving.”
“It’s not exactly dangerous,” said John stumbling on a pile of pipe.
“No but rotating the rooms of the facility is dangerous. That alone should make it at least a yellow if not red.”
“But why keep an Anomaly on site if it could cause so much chaos?”
“Where else would you keep it?”
“Launch it into space, destroy it, anything but keep it around.”
“There’s no telling the impact such an Anomaly would have if its effects triggered in orbit around this planet or another. Also, not all Anomalies can be destroyed. My guess is that Darkshield had a viable method of containment that was broken somehow.”
“No doubt by the Order of Light,” murmured Sasha.
“Yeah, any idea about those guys?”
Nel shook her head and Sasha ignored him.
“No, for whatever reason the Order of Light seems keen on dismantling the company and killing everyone associated with it.”
“So they’re crazy?”
“Crazy, enslaved, deluded, or they have genuine grievances against the corporation. We’ve seen it all before.”
“Wait,” said John pausing to catch his breath, “how many groups with a beef against the company are there?”
“Who knows,” said Nel, “dozens on this world, perhaps hundreds if you count all the planets and dimensions Darkshield has interacted with.”
John shook his head in disbelief before following the two women.
“You don’t think they brought their own Anomaly to rotate the facility?”
Nel though it through a moment.
“I doubt it. This would create a logistical nightmare for them. Unless their sole intention was to sow chaos. But I suspect there’s something more to their agenda than just killing everyone on sight.”
John thought back on the attacks at Rogers’ Field and The Center and decided he agreed with her. Thought he couldn’t imagine what they could possibly want.
“There’s the door,” muttered Sasha, interrupting his thoughts.
Looking ahead he eyed the metal door warily. Part of him wanted to go back and hole up with Clayton until this was all over. But he knew Nel would leave with or without him and he didn’t want her to go alone. Though that was before Sasha agreed to come along.
He shook his head before that line of thought took root. If everything Nel told him was true then not even Clayton or Patches could keep him safe. Either from the Order or whatever dark things stalked the halls of the facility now that containment was likely compromised.
Still the idea of wandering into the unknown seemed mad.
Sasha and Nel approached the door with guns raised and John drew his own. He wanted a rifle like there’s but he knew the two women were better trained and having the handgun was better than nothing.
Nel put a hand on the handle and looked at Sasha who gave her a nod. Tensing her muscles she flung the door open and Sasha snapped her rifle up before it slowly dipped and then came back up again.
Looking past her John could understand why.
It was a single room, entirely white with lights on every inch of the ceiling. In the center of the room was a wooden desk surrounded by haphazard piles of papers. On the desk was a metal typewriter and sitting in front of it was a disheveled man feverishly typing away.
The clutter, metallic clicks, and sight of the man sent chills up John’s spine.
“Hello, sir?”
The man ignored Nel and continued typing away. The typewriter reached the end of a sheet and it fell off the back as a new sheet replaced it. The typed sheet fell to the desk, slid off the other papers and onto the floor.
“Sir can you hear me?”
“Shhh,” hissed the man suddenly, “I’m concentrating!”
Sasha gave Nel a raised eyebrow and both women entered the room. They checked the corners and approached the man.
“What’s going on sir?”
“Can’t you see I’m typing?!”
John followed the women in. He could only see the man’s back as he sat on a stool. The man’s clothes were stained with sweat marks and body odor filled the room.
“I can see that. What are you typing?”
The man ignored her and continued his frenzied pace. The typewriter spit out the typed sheet and was replaced with a new blank one. It was as if the device itself had produced it.
“Sir is that typewriter or yourself Anomalous?”
“Of course it is,” he growled.
Both women stopped their approach and John followed their example. They gave each other another look before Sasha spoke.
“What does it do?”
“Go away,” snapped the man angrily.
“Sir we need to know-.”
The man smacked the table with a fist before the hand immediately returned to typing. Both Nel and Sasha had their guns trained on the back of his head before slowly lowering them again.
“I’m never going to get this done with all this racket!”
The clacking paused as another sheet drifted to the floor before resuming again.
“Alright,” barked Sasha irritably as she shoulder her rifle, “enough of this.”
Before anyone could react she grabbed the man by the arm and wrenched him off the back of the stool.
“You’re going to ans-.”
The man turned around and punched her. Sasha managed to turn her head and catch it on her cheek, but the blow still caught her off guard and knock her back a few steps. Nel rushed forward and butted her rifle against the side of the man’s head. He shrieked as he fell to the floor.
“I can’t stop!”
John rushed forward to help as Nel quickly knelt on the man’s back. He thrashed and spit on the floor as he tried desperately to dislodge her. John was at her side when he felt himself suddenly unable to move anymore.
It wasn’t that something was stopping him, he just felt compelled to stop and his body chose to. The initial loss of control panicked him, but then it was overwhelmed by a stronger sense of panic that made him quickly forget it.
Something behind his eyes started buzzing and with it came immense pain, as if someone was drilling into his brain. His thoughts were swept clean as they were replaced with a series of words and phrases that flashed across his mind.
At first, he tried to pay attention to what they were, but he found it impossible to keep up with the barrage of sentences. The panic he was feeling earlier increased as he realized that he was losing some of the words. He wasn’t sure why, but they were important, and he needed to know them.
John’s eyes flashed to the typewriter and a sense of urgency flushed through him. Dropping his weapon John rushed over, righted the stool, sat down, and started typing out the words that were cascading through his mind.
Very quickly he found that he couldn’t keep up with them no matter how fast he typed. Gritting his teeth, he willed his fingers to move faster.
“John?”
He recognized Nel’s voice and was horrified to find that her speaking distracted him and he lost even more words.
“John what are you doing?”
“Be quiet,” John hissed at her as his fingers danced across the keys.
As he typed he found that he wasn’t paying attention to the words that were coming out. It didn’t concern him as he could always read them later, but right now he needed to get them on paper before they were gone forever.
“Don’t touch him,” said the man suddenly.
John glanced over to see Nel approaching him and he shouted at her.
“I need to get this out, give me a minute!”
“John what are-.”
“Quiet, I can’t concentrate!”
John did his best to tune her out as he continued typing.
There was a pause as he worked and he heard a slight commotion, then Sasha started talking. The sounds were very irritating and he felt words slipping away.
“Ok, you’re going to explain what’s going on.”
“Can you talk outside,” barked John over his shoulder.
“Talk!”
“Speak softly and I’ll tell you what I know.”
They continued whispering and while John could hear them it was more tolerable. He wanted to walk over and push them out the room, but he didn’t dare leave the typewriter.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Chris McGurrin, I’m a research volunteer for G-103.”
“G-103 is the typewriter?”
“Yes, we call it the Manic Machine.”
“What does it do?”
The man sighed and John ground his teeth angrily as he struggled to concentrate.
“That’s what we were researching. The Anomaly compels anyone in its immediate vicinity to sit down and start typing out words.”
“What are the words?”
“Nonsense…maybe. Some researchers think it might be code, others are convinced it’s something important. Whoever sits down types in their native tongue and some are convinced that perhaps human language cannot properly convey-.”
“I don’t care. How do we make him stop?”
“The typewriter needs someone at all times.”
“What do you mean.”
John grit his teeth angrily as the man’s sigh caused several words to vanish.
“The typewriter will compel whoever is nearby to sit down and continue working. Its range will grow until it finds someone, anyone to sit down and type.”
“So you’re saying if we try and move him, one of us will get taken over and start typing like he just did?”
“Exactly.”
“And there’s no way we can all walk out of here,” asked Sasha.
“No, as I said it’s range of influence will grow until someone responds.”
“What if all four of us were unable to respond?”
“You mean if we were all unconscious?”
There was a bit of silence.
“It would find whoever’s nearby and capable of typing to come and start.”
“You think that would work Nel?”
Nel sighed and John growled over his shoulder at her as he continued furiously typing.
“It would, but I’d be worried about the typewriter reaching out to an Order soldier and having his buddies coming along to see what’s gotten his attention.”
“And we’d all be lying on the ground waiting for them.”
There was another pause.
“Order soldier?”
“It’s a long story,” said Nel wearily, “how long have you been at that typewriter?”
“I have no idea the writer loses all track of time.”
“Are you aware of what’s going on?”
“I heard some alarms going off and the other researchers left. I didn’t pay too much attention because it would mean I’d lose the words.”
“Lose the words?”
“The typewriter fills your mind with them. It’s all the writer can think about until they sit down and start typing. I was so distracted with typing I didn’t care what was happening around me.”
“Darkshield has suffered a massive containment breach.”
“I take it this isn’t a run of the mill issue?”
“You’ve probably been typing for a day or two now.”
The man swore and John’s eyes fluttered in frustration. His wrists were starting to cramp up, but he didn’t dare stop.
“Here,” said Nel as she rustled with something, “have a water and a granola bar.”
“Thanks,” the man said sincerely, “I guess it’s been a while since I’ve had anything.”
“I want to ask you a few questions if that’s ok.”
“Nel we need-.”
“We have a minute and I could take a second to get off my feet.”
More rustling that set John’s teeth on edge.
“Besides, I could use whatever knowledge Chris can give me.”
#
John nearly panicked when one of the sheets he was typing became stuck and wouldn’t let the other unfurl. Quickly he batted the sheet away, cringing when it tore, but desperate to keep going as the words trickled away from his mind.
When the new sheet unfurled properly he sighed and continued typing. There was nothing he could do about the words he lost, but there were always more coming in.
“It’s weird how obsessed he is,” murmured Sasha.
“Yeah,” responded the man knowingly, “it’s an all consuming obsession. The words have more importance than anything, including life.”
He paused uncomfortably and John was grateful for the few seconds of silence.
“I apologize for striking you earlier. You have to understand under that thing’s control I was willing to do anything to keep typing.”
Sasha didn’t respond and John hoped the silence would continue. Nel’s barrage of questions had been grating and there was no telling the amount of words he’d lost in that time.
“Chris I appreciate you answering my questions.”
“No problem, sorry I can’t be more help.”
“There actually is something you can do.”
“What’s that?”
The silence was lengthy, filled only with John’s continuous typing.
“You can’t be serious.”
“We need to regain control of the facility and John has to come with us.”
“I’m not getting back on that thing.”
“You have some food and water in your system, that’ll buy enough time for us-.”
“It’s not happening,” he interrupted.
“Keep it down,” growled John.
No one said anything for a time until Chris broke the silence in a whisper.
“Look, I understand the hell he’s in and I sympathize. But I just lost two days of my life to that thing. I’m ready to fall asleep at any moment.”
“We need to keep going to regain control of the facility.”
“Then let me come with you, I’ll take his place.”
“Do you have any combat training?”
“Of course.”
Distracted as he was even John could tell it was a lie.
“I know the layout of the facility.”
“The layout is entirely different.”
“I can be helpful.”
“I’m sorry, we need John.”
There was a lengthy period of silence.
“You can’t make me.”
“We can, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”
“Then you’re going to have to, because I will not willingly become enslaved to that thing again.”
After a brief pause Sasha sighed.
“Alright, playtime is over. Get over there and take over again.”
John glanced over his shoulder fearfully.
“I need to keep going.”
“Don’t come near me,” cried Chris as Sasha approached him.
John turned around and feverishly pecked at the keys.
There was a scuffle and Sasha began cursing. This continued for some time until the man started screaming.
“Please! Don’t do this, please!”
John cried out as a mass of words evaporated from his mind as new ones took their place.
“Stop, I’m losing them!”
There was a hand on his shoulder and he lashed out with a fist. He shrieked as he tried desperately to continue typing with one hand and fend off whoever was behind him.
The man was suddenly shoved past him against the desk and John was seized around the chest and hauled backwards. He cried out, kicking and thrashing as he was dragged away from the typewriter.
They’d pulled him a few feet when the panic and horror suddenly disappeared. In the blink of an eye the cascade of words vanished and that persistent buzzing behind his eyes was gone.
There was a brief look of terror on Chris’s face before it was replaced with a strange one. It was an eerie transition as his eyes sort of glazed over and a determined look came across his face. The man quickly righted the stool to sit down in front of the typewriter. In seconds the metallic keys rang out.
“John can you hear me?”
John ignored Nel as he watched the man typing.
“Are you alright?”
Standing up John felt their hands fall away from him. He stared at the man aggressively punching words out until a sheet of paper fell away from the typewriter. John watched it fall off the desk and onto a messy pile on the floor.
He stepped towards it.
“John.”
Holding a hand up he walked forward and retrieved the sheet. Finding it blank he flipped it over and saw that the typed side was one continuous stream of letters without any breaks. It took him a moment to separate the words from each other.
Looking around he retrieved another sheet and glanced it over. Shaking his head he crumpled the sheets in his fist which brought a gasp from Chris. The man looked at the crumpled papers in horror before turning back to continue typing.
“John.”
John kept glancing between Chris and the words that were slowly filling the paper on the typewriter. He wanted to shove the man aside, toss the typewriter against the wall, and burn the papers.
But he knew the second he touched the man Chris fight back. And John was terrified of being chosen again to be the writer.
“John we need to go.”
Giving a final glance at Chris he dropped the balled papers from his hand to the floor and walked away. He saw Sasha and Nel watching him curiously as he came towards them.
“What was on the papers,” asked Sasha.
“Let’s go.”
Sasha reached out and grabbed his arm before he could pass.
“What did they say?”
John met her gaze for a moment before removing her hand from his arm firmly.
“Let’s go.”
Not waiting for a response he stepped past both her and Nel into the unknown room. Part of him hoped he was walking into something dangerous.
Author’s Note:
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