I

I hate everything and everyone. I hunched over the wheel, struggling to keep my eyes open. It wasn't late, in fact it was the opposite. It was late morning. I groaned, glancing to my right. Thompson was slumped in his chair, hat down to cover his eyes, feet on the dash, and arms crossed over his chest. I snarled, turning back to the road ahead. It felt like we'd been driving forever.

"Thompson!" I snapped, shoving his legs off the dash.

He perked, hat slipping off his face and arms unfolding. Stretching and giving a yawn, he glanced over at me. He was tired too. Seeing no emergency, he readjusted his hat and slunched back over. I groaned, rolling my eyes.

"Don't complain. It's your shift," he grumbled. "I drive at night. You drive during the day. Sun's up. You drive."

"I'm tired," I whimpered.

"Me too."

I groaned again, glaring at him. He winked at me.

"I hate you," I growled.

He grinned, tilting his hat down to cover his eyes again. The road was even for the most part, making the drive primarily smooth sailing. It was a sun-bleached grey, coated in recently blackened tar pits. Either side was swaying grass in endless fields. Wired fences blocked the road from the grass, shimmering in the rising sunlight. The clouds overhead parted the sun frequently, darkening and relighting the cabin of our jeep.

"Where are we even going?" I grumbled, leaning back in my chair.

"SCP location," he replied.

"Meaning?"

"A SCP that is too big to contain, typically located in a specific area. We're going around and checking the containment of these and making sure protocol is being followed and not 'laxed in any way."

"How long are we doing this?"

"Hopefully, until the site is rebuilt. Likely, until we die."

"Fun."

There was a faint clatter from somewhere farther away. Leaning forward, I spotted a large, grey cloud moving toward us. I groaned, slumping back into my chair. Rain. The day was looking out to be so nice and quiet. Thunder echoed from the distance.

I felt something run down my back, compression against my chest. My fingers tightened around the wheel, knuckles turning white. I felt my breath catch in my throat. Red flashes. Darkened hall. Sirens. The shadows at the end of the hall parted, revealing sunken eyes staring at me. I couldn't move. A low growl as something reached out toward me. I couldn't turn away. It was closing in, long fingers nearing my face.

"Hey!"

I felt Thompson jerk the wheel as our tires scrapped along the edge of the road. My body bowed forward, head hitting the wheel. The car rumbled, bumping off the gravel onto the grass. Narrowly, we avoided the fence, slowing to a stop. I was panting, feeling the air rush in and out of my lungs. Thompson was still gripping the wheel, but I could feel his eyes on me. Silence.

"Maybe," Thompson eventually sighed, pulling away from the wheel. "Maybe, I should drive."

"No," I gulped, leaning off the wheel, "I'm fine. I'm fine now."

Thompson grabbed the gear shift, slamming it forward to park, and ripped the keys out of the ignition. The purr of the engine puttered to a stop, allowing the chirps and winds of nature to grow in volume. Thompson sighed again, jingling the keys in his hand. I was still gripping the wheel. They had relaxed some, no longer turning my knuckles white, but my nails dug into the fabric, cutting into it with all my force.

"Move," ordered Thompson.

"I told you I'm fine."

"You're not."

"I'm fine!"

I don't know why I shouted. I slammed my hands on the wheel for emphasis. I clenched my teeth, wrapping my fingers into a fist over the horn. My palms were sweaty. I wasn't even all that warm, why was I sweating? Thompson scoffed, unbuckling and opening his door. I could hear his footsteps in the long grass as he rounded the car. Reaching my side, he threw open my door. I didn't move.

"Get out."

"I'm…fine."

He rolled his eyes, leaning over my chest and unbuckling me. He gripped my arm. I flinched. Why was I so scared? His grip relaxed on my arm, but it still wrapped around me. I sighed.

"I'll drive the rest of the way," he mumbled. "We're almost there, anyway."

"I can do it," I whimpered.

"I know," he whispered, "but it's okay if you can't."

I removed my hands from the wheel, slumping in my seat. I looked over at him. I had grown so used to seeing Thompson in his white lab coat and uniform, but now that we were out in the field, our uniforms have changed. A tan, sleeveless jacket, pale undershirt, brown pants and a black hat with the foundation logo. I was dressed similarly, though without the jacket. Perhaps that was because I still under his authority. I had forgotten the whole class and level system but it still seems I'm a rank lower than him. Maybe, I always will.

"C'mon," he hummed, motioning out of the car. "We're almost there anyway."

"You didn't exactly say where we're going," I smiled, slowly getting out of the car.

"1983, I think," he shrugged, slipping around me to get into the driver's seat. "This is your first Keter, right?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" I gasped. "We're going to a Keter level SCP?"

Thompson smiled and closed the door. I gulped.