Chapter Six


She is plotting to destroy us.

The thought swirled through the "minds" of the dozens of "men" who shambled around the plant. All of them had the same thought in unison, and all of them had the same response to it.

Hatred. Hatred and fear.

We must stop her.

IT purred in assent at this conclusion.

The "workers" began to shuffle towards the control room from wherever they were standing. Jaws slack, eyes blank, black sludge dripping from every crack and crevice of their faces. Their blood was black. Their cells no longer craved for oxygen. No longer needed it.

They were, in a scientific sense, no longer alive.

One of their number was quite close to the control room, a broad smile on his face as he slowly walked up the stairs.

When he had awoken that morning, his name had been Nathan.

A blurry memory passed between the few dozen of them- a snatch from "Nathan's" mind of her slipping the slim white matchbook into her pocket.

But that wasn't true. He hadn't seen her put the matches in her pocket, not that Nathan knew that. But they could hear her thoughts through IT; IT was feeding them the disjoined images from her mind, slowly, piecemeal morsels thrown to starving dogs to inflame their rage even more.

The hisses and snarls of his brothers and IT echoed in "Nathan's" vacant brain, and he smiled wider. ITs black blessing dripped from his mouth onto the ground, and he exhaled another puff of the glorious gas.

He would help his brothers and IT.

"Nathan" was happy as he climbed the stairs. The swirling thoughts of his brothers told him they were coming too. Coming to break down her door. Make her stop her silly quest to destroy IT.

Fire will consume us all, they hissed between themselves, she will destroy us. We can't let her destroy us.

Almost there. "Nathan" said, thoughts lost in the miasma; they all thought together, really, a human horde or a human herd. There was no leader. Only IT.

"Nathan" climbed the steps, drops of ITs blessed liquid dripping from his body the whole way up the stairs.

He arrived at the door and balled his fists, limply slamming his entire body into the door; heedless of the damage he'd do to himself.

For the good of many. He was replaceable. One of countless expendable cogs in the horde that IT would care for as IT seethed across the landscape.

He slammed into her little door again, driving his body on, throwing all of his weight into it. Something in his shoulder shifted unpleasantly- had he just broken something? It didn't matter. He needed to batter this door down. Needed to batter the door down. Needed to get inside. Needed to get inside.

"Let us in…"


Alberta nearly jumped out of her skin when something slammed into the door, the reverberations shaking the tiny control room and the tiny antechamber.

She was out of time.

Her mind raced in a panic, hand scrabbling for her gas monitor. No. No. No-

Alberta was out of time, and she needed to change plans. Now.

There exists in chemistry a concept related to gases. The term is "Lower Explosive Limit." Simply put, it refers to the minimum concentration of a gas required in the air for it to explosively ignite in the presence of a spark.

Alberta knew full well that the LEL for H2S was way, way, WAY above the threshold for death, and way, way way above the current concentration in the room. If she struck her match now, the most that would happen would be- would- Alberta had absolutely no idea what the fuck would happen. Not much was her best guess.

Math. She needed to do some math. 4% was the LEL for H2S, multiply that by 10,000-

40,000 PPM. She needed to sit around with her thumb up her ass until the concentration of deadly gas was forty times greater than the point where a single breath would cause instant death.

The door shuddered again, and an idea clicked into place. They- the workers- they exhaled H2S-

But how the fuck was she supposed to keep them at bay for long enough for the concentration to hit that critical point? One more drop on her skin and she was toast. Alberta spun around, looking for something, anything she could use to create some kind of barricade. They moved pretty slowly, the workers- maybe if she made a barricade, something the air could seep through easily, the concentration could hit the critical point and keep her safe?

Alberta ran into the antechamber, nearly tripping on the filing cabinets she'd thrown in front of the door, and looked around frantically. There was a coffee machine, a big upright thing- and a bookcase full of reports, leaned up against the wall, right next to the entrance to the control room. Perfect.

Alberta rammed her way through the topped papers and shoved the coffee machine aside, eyeing up the bookcase. It was large and built of faux-wood, with a shitty laminate applied on top. The kind of crap you got at IKEA, really. She rammed her hands into the small space between the side of the bookcase and the wall, channelling all her might as a personification into one burst of strength. Eyes closed and mind floating in that strange space between her thoughts and those of her people, she focused, channelling three million heartbeats and three million souls into one explosive burst. The bookcase ripped from its place, teetering and toppling over with an almighty, thundering crash. The ring-binders had spilled out across the floor, papers still floating down around her like cherry blossoms in some fuckin' anime.

That was a good start. The bookcase was tall enough to present an obstacle, but not enough that she couldn't climb it-

The door shuddered violently again, and the metal filing cabinets on the floor screeched as they jerked across the fake linoleum. Alberta stooped down, grunting as she picked one of the metal cabinets up and righted it- sort of. She was already tired and panting from that burst of strength with the bookcase, but most of the papers had spilled out of it, and she threw it haphazardly against the bookcase letting it smash into place.

An idea struck her then, and Alberta grabbed one of the many ring binders scattered across the floor, flinging it as hard as she could over her ramshackle barricade and into the control room. Then, the coffee machine on its little heated plinth got tossed carelessly into place, the delicate internal electrics smashing on contact with the floor. Finally the little coffee table and the chairs all got thrown on the pile, and not a moment too soon, because-

Many, many hands slammed against the door, and this time, with one of the cabinets missing, they managed to jerk it open more than a crack. An arm shoved through the gap, and a chorus of voices snarled at her from the other side; "Join us, sister," they growled and hissed and purred, "Let ITs blessings into you…"

"Yeah, I think fuckin' NOT!" Alberta screamed shrilly into her mask, scrambling up her makeshift barricade. She was tall enough to hook her hands up into the bookcase up at the top, but swinging her legs up and over presenting something more of a challenge-

The workers slammed into the door again, and this time, the filing cabinet finally failed with a screech of metal and a snapping of pinewood. Alberta lunged over the barrier, head and torso and oxygen tanks over the threshold-

SOMETHING GRABBED HER BOOT.

Alberta screamed in animal terror as she felt one of those horrible infected hands grab the end of her steel-toed boots and pull, other hands reaching up for her ankles-

She thrashed and kicked, her heel hitting something both soft and firm and alive-feeling as hard as she possibly could, and she scrambled up and over, tumbling onto the cool linoleum below without a shred of grace. She landed hard on her front, not a long drop, but all that mattered was that she hadn't landed on her oxygen tanks. Right?

Alberta grabbed her gauge and checked. No drop in pressure. If there was a leak the pressure in the tanks would be falling rapidly. The hose-?!

No break in her hose. Okay. Okay. She was good. She would be fine-

There was a roar from the other side of the pile of stuff, a growling of a dozen voices, chanting "you will not destroy IT" as the workers slammed themselves against the barrier. Alberta snatched up her monitor-

1257 ppm. And climbing. 1296 ppm. 1321 ppm.

It was working. This fucking retarded plan was going to fucking work.

Why do you resist my children so?

"Because, and this might be a bit of a shock, I really don't want to be a fucking zombie." Alberta snapped into her respirator, dimly aware that replying to the little voice in her head had looped around to being a perverse new normal. Hadn't she told this fucker to shut up?!

They are not zombies. They are still alive. And I have solved all their worries and fears. They are safe in my arms, as you will be soon.

"Oh would you and your fucking children just eat a fucking OH SHIT!"

A face shoved its way over the top of the barricade; a human face, with black sludge dripping out of the mouth and nose. He- IT- snarled at her, drops of black gunk spilling from its lips as it forced its way over the barricade-

Alberta lunged for one of the rolley chairs, snatching it up by the backrest without even thinking. She took another deep breath, channelling her strength and ignoring the pain in her muscles and her deep-seated exhaustion, hefting the chair up like a baseball bat and smashing the wheel base into the corrupted worker's head.

There was a hideous crunching sound as she did, the sound of something delicate inside him breaking and snapping off, and then-

He just…slumped.

She'd just killed him.

Alberta slowly lowered the chair, eyes wide behind her mask. She took a step back, worried and nervous-

The black sludge dripping out of his mouth suddenly…blossomed. It spread up, around his face, around his head, growing and smothering his whole body, wrapping him in a cocoon of the black sludge. There was a hideous sound, like all the tissues and organs inside of him were being slurped up by the sludge, and then-

A clattering as three dozen small white objects hit the floor, extruded out of the black mass that was hanging over the barricade like a pile of slowly-moving tar.

His teeth.

Alberta closed her eyes and screamed.

Human teeth. She'd killed him and IT had converted all the hydrocarbons in his body into- into more of itself. Into more of ITS mass. All except his teeth.

This was a fucking nightmare. Alberta leaned her exhausted body against the control panel, taking a few breaths to regain her strength. She was so tired, and so fed up with this shit. She just- she just wanted-

The image that flashed into her mind was one of peace and calm, the one she always groped for in timed of fear or stress. A warm, sunny field. The long green wheat stalks waving all around. Sitting on the back tailgate of her truck with her twin brother, under the bright blue sky, enjoying the warmth and the openness of the heavens all around them, an unbroken blue dome stretching from horizon to horizon. In the distance, mountains, blue and purple with snowcaps. The clouds overhead. The chirping of birds.

And in the little fantasy, Alberta turned to look at her twin, smiling at him broadly. And he smiled back, and Alberta watched in utter calm as the blessed black began to drip from his bright green eyes like a trail of joyous tears and-

Alberta snapped out of her reverie with a scream of terror, grabbing at her head. IT was fucking with her-she'd gotten distracted- and there was another face jamming its way over her barricade. She glanced at her monitor-

27,562 ppm. Holy fuck. With so many of them clustered in the antechamber and hammering on her barricade, the concentration was climbing, faster and faster-

Another head was snarling down at her, this one with a mask. Alberta grabbed her trusty chair once again, grunting with the exertion and exhaustion as she swung it in a wide arc, smashing it into the worker's head as hard as she possibly could. This guy didn't immediately eat it like the last one had, though. There was a sickly crunch, sure, but he just shook it off, like it was no big deal-

She swung the chair again, desperate, afraid, hear pounding in her chest and arms screaming at her in agony to please, please stop swinging that heavy heavy chair around-

The chair connected with a sickening crack, the neck jerking like she'd just smashed the worker hard enough to give it whiplash.

It slumped, like she'd just knocked it unconscious- but it was crucially still breathing. Well, "breathing"; breathing was relative. Alive? That was a sticky question too. Whatever the case, the black ooze inside of the worker had yet to swarm out and digest it, turning it into more of the black slurry that was slowly working its way under her barricade. And dripping from the remains of the dead worker. And just…oozing across the floor. Alberta shivered and took a step back, away from the slime that was slowly crawling its way towards her.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the matchbook and slapping it on the control console, hands shaking. Check the monitor again. 30,056 ppm. Three-quarters of the way there.

The ooze continued to crawl towards her, and Alberta shuddered.

"Get that shit away from me or I'm gonna hop up on the control panel, and I'm GOING to stomp on some buttons when I'm up there." Alberta snarled, taking another few steps away from the black ooze.

I think I've made more than enough concessions for you. You are a disobedient brat and I am frankly tired of your abrasiveness. In fact, I might not even let you have my blessing. I might just devour you wholesale. And I'll trap your Dust so you cannot come back, Miss Alberta.

"You can't do that!" Alberta spluttered, wishing she sounded a lot less like a petulant child. Dust. How the fuck did IT know about her becoming Dust?!

I'm in your mind. I know your thoughts. You are going to kill us all. And you are thinking, praying, hoping that you will swirl away into the sky on a cloud of golden Dust. Well, Miss Alberta, I am here to tell you that I'm afraid you won't be doing any such thing. I'm going to trap your Dust. I'm going to rip all the memories from your mind and use your knowledge to pump my essence to market. I'm going to devour your mind, devour your flesh, and devour your Dust.

"Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU-" it became a chant. A mantra. Alberta just kept repeating those words to herself, over and over, as she turned her attention back to the matchbook, ripping all the matches out of the cardboard, one by one, dropping the paper matches in a pile on the console-

Her hand seized up. The hand with the inky black locked up, and refused to move. Fuck. Fuck!

"NOT A-FUCKING-GAIN!"

Submit to my will. Or I will remove your pathetic little mask.

"NEVER!"

Alberta screamed with a fury, a viciousness, that sent IT reeling back ever so slightly at her words. Alberta grabbed her own wrist with the hand that was still under her control, slamming it down into the console and bumping the matches up in the air- but mercifully, not onto the floor, into the encroaching pile of sludge.

She glared down at her own limb, thoughts flashing into her mind that if she had a hatchet, she'd just chop it off at the fucking wrist. Be rid of this monster and do what needed to be done.

Alberta's eyes flicked away from the hand she was grappling with, the one that was twitching and jerking and straining under commands that certainly weren't hers. First, she glanced at her phone- and just nodded, sharply, to herself.

The video had sent.

"Fuck. You're so fucked. You're so fucking fucked." She snapped to nobody in particular, half to IT and half to herself and half to the empty godless universe.

SUBMIT TO ME. I AM DONE PLAYING YOUR PATHETIC LITTLE GAMES, CHILD.

Alberta's eyes flicked over to her H2S monitor, lying there haphazardly on the control panel.

Silently ticking upwards. Slowly. Oh so fucking slowly.

She shuffled over to it- and yelped when one of her boots hit the inky black ooze that was ITs tarry mass. Her boot was just resting in a thin puddle of the stuff, but- it started slowly climbing up her boot, started its slow march towards her skin-

The readout on the monitor was 39,567 ppm.

500 parts per million more. So close. So fucking close…

Alberta's eyes locked onto the matches. The little strike-anywhere paper matches. Her only hope of salvation.

She let go of her hand-

It lunged up towards her mask, and Alberta screamed and grabbed it by the wrist, fighting a part of her own body even as ITs slime crawled higher up her boots, as ITs minions pounded at her barricade, as IT tried to devour her.

She managed to grapple her hand away from her faceplate, mind racing. One quick glance at the monitor-

40,001 ppm.

Alberta sucked in a deep breath.

Now.

She let go of her hand, letting it fly upwards and latch onto her mask, grappling with the edges of it, ripping it off her face against her will. The plastic screen tumbled from those possessed fingers and towards the floor as the black slime lunged up her boots, the clear screen swallowed up by the sludge.

Alberta snatched up one of the matches, frantically scraping the flimsy paper surface across the console's surface-

Nothing. The match just bent and broke. No. NO. NO-

I WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOUL FOR THIS.

The slime crawled higher, another worker rammed their way overtop of Alberta's barricade, and the province snatched up another match. IT screamed with all of ITs hundreds of thousands of stolen voices, animals and humans and who knew what else, howling in rage and fury. The slime surged up her legs, up her waist and stomach, sinking into her clothing, sinking into her skin-

Alberta struck the match.

And the fireball soared thousands of feet into the sky.


A/N: All that's left now is the epilogue. Hell of a thing; I think this is my first properly finished fanfic that's not a oneshot!

Not much to say, really. Big shoutout to Guest for keeping this train rolling and giving me the motivation to keep up with this craziness. Thank you so, so much, dude. Seriously, DM me sometime, I'd love to chat with you on Discord or Skype or something.

As per usual, tell me your thoughts! What parts did you like? What parts did you hate? I really want to know, so leave a review! I read and appreciate all of them, trust me.