Chapter Eighteen
1538 hrs
First Aid could be a nag when he wanted to be, and he obviously wanted to be as Chip now found himself sitting in the human cafeteria, well, one of them, staring down at a luke warm cup of weak coffee and a slice of bacon and egg pie which was looking rather spurious. A heaping of pepper and a healthy amount of salt was subsequently dumped on the unappealing dish. But First Aid had started ranting about how the small human hadn't appeared to fuel in a while and proper organic function needed at least five small meals a day with adequate hydration. Chip made a cheeky remark about how little he had to eat when his legs didn't work… where did he pick that up from? He wondered as he pushed the fork into the yellow and red specked triangle, ah, yes, Family Guy. He tried to recall the episode but failed. He'd have to ask Jazz when he saw him next, that guy was a wealth of knowledge about the quirks of human culture.
After three bites of the pie, which he forced down into the pit of his stomach, a young man approached, he was donned in the usual uniform of an EDC security officer. He sat down without asking and clasping his hands in front of him leaned forward and whispered to Chip:
"I hear you're investigating hauntings… here… at Autobot city".
His voice was harsh and if it wasn't for the fact that Chip could read lips, (from an incident where a Decepticon explosion rendered him deaf for six months) the man in the wheelchair wouldn't have figured out what the guy was getting at.
"Ah… who told you that?"
"It's a rumour. Rumours do the rounds. I want to know if there's any truth to the rumour".
He sounded like a human Magnus, but the kid was obviously unsettled by something and was trying to hide that concern.
Chip put his fork down and leant back slightly; looking the young chap in the eyes and inwardly musing if this was some kind of joke or ruse. But was glad none the less to have something take him away from the eggy abortion that sat on his plate.
"Look, I'm not kidding, okay, I just wanna help…"
Chip raised an eyebrow as the young man placed his hands, palms down, on the sticky table. He left them there for a moment, his right index finger moved slightly as the sensation of poor café hygiene made its self known.
"See, when I was at uni, I used to belong to a ghost hunters club, and while I don't do that any more I do have friends who have a very good business going on. They have all the equipment and stuff you could need, even access to "sensitive" people. Here's their card, just consider it, please".
The guy pulled a small card from his pocket and placed it on the sticky table in front of Chip's bacon and egg pie. The scientist sighed softly and picked up the card.
"There's a lot of talk doing the rounds, a lot of people are a bit worried, and those that say they aren't are full of it. I've seen things on my patrols that I shouldn't be seeing and I bet all the brainy Autobots would have trouble trying to figure it all out with their tests and science".
"What kinds of things?"
Chip asked, inquiring about what the young security officer had seen.
"Just strange things. Like I'll go into my office sit down, do some work, then go to the bathroom, when I come back, my chair will be sitting on my desk – but no one or nothing is around. Or when I got locked in the toilet, but you can only lock the door from the inside! Or I tried to have a nap once and I kept hearing scratching and I couldn't see anything or find anything. I see figures to, people, running along corridors out of the corner of my eye or looking at me from windows in buildings that are condemned or abandoned or secure. Like the Williams' building, I see those things all the time. So do others!"
Williams was a building that had provided humans with offices and accommodation, during the battle it was badly damaged and a fire tore through, over 200 people were burned alive or killed by the heat and smoke. It was off limits and was next to impossible to get into. What was subsequently creepier was that the stair wells had been made of wood, and they'd burnt to a crisp, you couldn't get to the higher levels, so to hear of images of people staring out…
The man many referred to as a cripple considered these words and was silent for a moment, wondering.
"When did all this start happening?"
"Well, I saw my fair share of ghostly shenanigans in that club, but here, on site, not long, I was away during the big battle they had a few months back and I only returned three weeks ago, since then I've been seeing the stuff. So have others".
"What others?"
"Jerry for one, he doesn't mind if you know it's him or if you ask him. But most of them don't want to be known as having seen spooks, they're worried they'll loose their jobs or end up in the loony bin".
"What's Jerry seen?"
Chip didn't have any idea who Jerry was.
"Same as me, figures looking at him from Williams. Jerry used to work in there, but after the place got trashed they moved its operations over to Woodrow, he said he works late and oftentimes has to go passed Williams to get to his car. He also said he's seen things "floating" about Woodrow. I've got a feeling from talking to him there's more going on but he hasn't given me any more information".
Chip flicked the corner of the card with his index finger and gave another few moments of silence to his inner thoughts.
"Okay".
He said after a few more moments.
1945hrs
It was another late night. Overtime paid well, of course, but sometimes it was rather impinging on his outside life. His wife was both happy and annoyed, she liked the money he bought home, but she missed his company. Jerry Meeson picked up a large stack of paper and began to thumb through it, mumbling an irritated string of profanities as he attempted to find what he was after. He found it, placed it to the side, put the stack in front of him and began to scribble down writing on a blank page.
The lights went out.
Jerry thought nothing of it given the amount of reconstruction that was taking place and the many, many times someone cut something they shouldn't, drop something they shouldn't or even just stand somewhere they shouldn't. It was a common occurrence.
He sat in the dark and yawned, well, if there was ever a hint to go home, this was it. He gathered up his necessary papers and bundled them into his briefcase under the illumination of an outside source, it could have been a few street lights or perhaps the moon, he didn't know and didn't care. He stood then pawed for his cell, odd, he thought that it was off as it was always on. He picked it up and held down the on switch, but it didn't obey. Its screen remained dark.
"Bloody piece of shit".
He grumbled as he dropped it into his bag and then grabbed up his wallet. Pushing the seat under his desk he manoeuvred his way out and walked to the door, hoping the elevators were still operating because the thought of walking down 20 flights of stairs wasn't appealing, certainly not in the dark. He tripped, his briefcase spilling its neatly placed contents all over the floor, his cell skidded under a file cabinet where it knocked to a stop against the wall.
"Son of a bitch".
He growled into the carpet his face was rubbing against. Slowly he managed to push himself up on to his knees, in the dim lighting he started to gather his papers, again. It took a few minutes and did not involve him attempting to recover his cell. If it wasn't turning on there was no point trying to fish it out from under that thing in the dark he mused as he stood. He hadn't even taken half a step when he was face planted on the rough carpet again.
"What the hell?
He asked as he twisted at his lumbar spine to try and see who it was behind him who had pushed him.
"Who's there?"
His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, he was not impressed and he zero to naught patience for such antics. Something struck his hands, the briefcase still clasped in his right when flickering into the wall where all the papers spewed out and into the office. They started to float about; at first the man thought it was just a natural, scientifically explained occurrence that they were simply under the control of gravity and the breeze coming from the air con. Instead, those thoughts were replaced with a chilled sort of terror as they started to spin about a particular axis in the space in front of him. They formed a funnel much like a tornado, he was able to tell this as the lights began to flicker on and off, his cell phone went off, and every electronic in the room stirred to life. The photocopier started throwing out paper, the fax machine followed suit. The computer started repeating the same irritating start up chime. It was unsettling and it was something Jerry wasn't going to tolerate. He stood quickly, forgetting any of his work requirements and ran for the door, he reached it and found he was unable to get it open. The light that indicated whether the door was locked or not began flicking colours it had no business flicking. Its choices were either red or green, not blue, pink, yellow or black… Jerry lost any control of himself and began banging on the door, screaming to be let out, the papers increasing in speed behind them as they howled around the office.
"Oh GOD!"
He squealed like a little girl as he turned to glance at the debacle that was taking place. He ran to the side door that served as an emergency exit, he managed to get that door open and ran into the hall way. The papers followed him where they started to merge into one giant ball of paper, at that point, he made the mistake of looking back, the huge ball, which was now sitting a top a body type structure slammed him to the ground. He descended into the dark that was his unconscious.
2015hrs
Chocolate.
Good thing Aid wasn't around, if he saw the man ploughing through the king sized block of double chocolate and cookies he probably wouldn't be impressed. Especially after the young scientists had given the medic a rather descriptive menu of what he had devoured at the café – all bald faced lies, of course, he had not had a Caesar salad with a medium done sirloin, a serving of winter vegetables and a non-fat soy latte.
The chocolate was good, it was tasty and certainly something he was enjoying, and it was far superior then any rubbish the café could provide. He took another three squares and popped them in his mouth, slowly sucking the chocolate down until he had the biscuit chunks which he could then enjoy and enjoy them he would. He reached over to his computer's mouse and was about to click a link to his email account when somewhere from deep within the facility there was an explosion.