Graveyard shift
Hoobajoo
Author of 10 Stories
2. Chapter 2
Rated: T - English - Adventure/Suspense - Reviews: 4 - Updated: 04-28-08 - Published: 03-24-08 - Complete - id:4153764
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Chapter 2
Chapter 2
"What's the fuck's goin' on?"
"I dunno, but it sounds bad."
"Jesus, are you telling me I might have to actually use my gun?"
"How should I know?"
"I'm not paid enough for this shit."
"Yes, you are."
"Shut up."
Mark and Jake continued jabbering away on the radio. I suspected they would be like this if the shit ever hit the fan. Steel turning to rubber.
They were finishing off a sweep of the remaining floors, looking for stray employees and found none. Harlan Wade was missing, but no one knows that besides me. I think I'll keep it that way.
"Hey Jazz, what do you think?"
Jazz is my nickname. Jake thought of it from a Simpsons episode. You know the one where Bart asks for Huge Ass? Well my first name is Hugh, so my nickname is officially Jazz in honour of that little gem.
I must say, I don't altogether mind it too much. Better than Marky "Gullible" Gulliver.
"I think you're a wanker Jake. Where are you guys?"
"Level 16."
"Well get down here then. Clive's getting everything together."
I hope they get here pretty quick. It's just Clive and myself for the moment in the security wing. If someone's gonna try and sneak in here, I want more people around me. Although I know how to use my pistol, I've never actually shot at anyone before. You sign on as a security guard expecting to walk around and not have to actually DO anything.
Shit, it seems like I might have to now.
"Did you hear that?"
"No, shut up. Let's just get outta here." Mark replied belligerently.
Mark and Jake sound scared. I don't particularly blame them.
Clive butts in and calms them down, in his own way. "Hey you two, shut the fuck up and get down here pronto or I'll have your balls!"
"Yessir!" they both reply with a start.
I can hear Clive talking to the door guards on the ground floor. Susan and Jesse. Never really had much to do with those two, but they seemed more professional than Mark and Jake.
"Susie, Jesse, status update." Clive barks.
"All clear sir." Susie crisp voice on the slightly grainy radio has a calming effect on me. I don't know why. She just sounds so in control.
Finally, Mark and Jake burst through the stairwell doorway and almost tumble into me.
"Jesus Jazz, am I glad to see you!" Gullible exclaims through raspy breaths.
Nothing's even happened yet and these two are almost pissing themselves.
Thankfully Clive steps into the hallway after hearing the commotion and immediately starts barking orders at them, and me.
"Right, you three I want you manning the CCTV feeds. If there is a security breach, I wanna know where."
"Clive, what's going on, huh?" Gullible says, his voice a little shaky.
"I told you before. We got a tip off of a possible security breach tonight. An ATC platoon is on their way as a precaution."
"Christ, so is this for real?" Gullible dribbles again.
"Yes. This is what you are paid for after all. Now get going."
"Yessir." We all bark in unison and jogged passed him for the CCTV surveillance room. None of us say a word as I lead the way, opening the door to reveal the grey glow of the hoards of TV monitors.
I pushed inside the small space, taking a seat on the middle of the great volume of flickering screens. I figured I should watch over the other two and make sure they were doing what they should. I mean, when you get down to it, I don't trust them with my life.
"So what are we looking for?" Gullible asked.
"Whatever shouldn't be there." Jake chastised.
Well, when you get down to it, that's what is required. All of the floors should be empty. There should be no movement and nobody. If anything moves, you better believe I'm going to see it and report the shit out of it. At least, I would like to think nothing can get passed me, but I won't kid myself anymore.
Time to concentrate.
I divide us up between floors, Jake watching the bottom 6 floors, including the ground level and car parks. I'm the middle 12 and Gullible is on the top 5 floors, including the roof.
Nervous banter is kept to a minimum as everyone rigorously scans through the various camera feeds, finding nothing as they cycle through the multitude of images and viewpoints.
"Anything?"
"No."
"Jesus, what's that?"
"Nothing you dumb shit. That's just a pot plant."
"Shut up you two. Calm the shit down." I bark at them. A comedy of errors these two guys. Useless. I definitely need to keep an eye on them.
Clive's gruff roar fills our radios. I can't help but flinch as feel as though small pieces of barbed wire have just torn through my ear drums. "Anything to report on CCTV?"
"All clear." I report back before Mark and Jake have a chance to stutter something stupid in reply.
"Jesse? Susan? Anything to report?" Clive barks through the radio again. His is gentler with these two because I'm sure he trusts them more than us. I don't blame him. I would too I suppose.
We all wait in tense silence for Jesse or Susan to reply and the room suddenly feels colder by the second when they don't reply.
Absolute silence. Ordinarily I would appreciate the solace from Mark and Jakes annoying banter, but I would give anything for someone to pierce the silence with something reassuring.
I want to hear. "Yes sir. No sir. Three bags full sir." But the radio speaker lodged in my ear is left wanting. It has nothing to say.
I need to shit.
Badly.
I'm not quite sure whether Clive is scared shitless like me or just angry when he repeats his request for an update.
As before, there is only silence to torture me.
"Jazz, bring up the feed on the foyer." Clive barks in the radio.
The direction he has lovingly bequeathed unto me is like a breath of warm, fresh air into my icy lungs. Something productive to do to break up my nervousness.
With a deft press of a finger on the keyboard before me, the bank of monitors instantly bring forth images from the several cameras that cover the front foyer.
It's a great mass of Parthenon-esque marble columns and modern leather couches with steel arm rests sharp enough to cut your arm off. It all looks very modern and exudes an 'in charge and powerful' feel, but those couches are as uncomfortable as fuck. I suppose only dumb security guards like me and ignorant and nervous job applicants and stupid enough to actually sit in them. Maybe they're a test. If you sit in them, you fail.
Maybe that's why there a very cold feeling in my stomach and a reflexive clench on my rectum to stop a watery turd from a hasty exit when I see Jesse sitting in one of those couches. I instantly know something is wrong even if the others don't.
His grainy figure is slumped over in the leather, like he's fallen asleep.
There's no way you can fall asleep on those things.
Quickly scanning over the other screens, I cannot find Susan.
It does not matter. I report to Clive exactly what I think.
"Something's very wrong sir."
"What is it?" Clive asks impatiently, yet matter-of-factly.
"Jesse appears… incapacitated and Susan is unaccounted for." I avoid saying Jesse's dead for obvious reasons, even if I know it in my bones and my bowels.
"Mark, Jake get down there. Jazz, I'm coming to you."
My two unfortunate companions turn around and stare at me with eyes wide enough to fit a truck in them. They are incredulous with fear and disbelief.
Before they have a chance to protest to me, I repeat Clive's order with as much impatience and a feigned anger as I can muster, when in truth I feel deeply sorry for them.
As though in shock, the both slowly rise from their chairs and disappear out of the room without a word.
Only a split moment later, Clive bounces through the door into the glow with me and exudes an air of reassuring, yet nervous authority. His hand is resting on his service pistol. I wonder whether he's ever shot a man before.
We are just in time to watch Mark and Jake emerge from the elevator in the foyer through the CCTV footage. Their backs are as stiff as metal as they calmly (they appear calm, although I know they are not) walk out into the open foyer towards Jesse.
Before I know what's happened, their heads jerk backwards and they tumble to the floor in ragged heaps. There is no sound and I cannot hear the gunshots that have undoubtedly just killed them.
It was a curious state to be in. I was in shock but still somehow had the presence of mind to know I was in shock and somehow function anyway. My tongue felt three sizes too big and impossibly dry when I coolly inform Clive that Mark and Jake are dead.
Instantly he reaches for his radio.
"Munro, get those back-up guys here right fucking now! We're under attack! Insurgents are inside!"
