Click here to read Part 1
My bowels spasmed and rumbled like angry storm clouds. Let’s cross now to the lovely Keeley Donovan for today’s forecast.Thanks Ted, as you can see from our chart we can expect office wide slaughter, followed by strong arse winds and torrents of diarrhea, which will give way shortly to bloody agonizing death. My advice to the ladies and gents out there, say inside and keep the bathroom door locked, we’re in for a real shit storm. Oh and if you do have go out, don’t forget your umbrella and your toilet paper. Thanks Keeley.
The thing was still close, too close, not in the VP’s office thank God. No, it was probably waiting just outside in the hallway letting me know it was there with that ugly noise, taunting me like Jimmy Rodder and his friends had in primary school. I’m gonna kill you, fat boy just wait till school gets out, I gonna beat you up real good… and why not? It wasn't like it had anything better to do with it’s time, not with everyone else on the floor being dead and surely they were, Oh god the screams and the blood so much blood! Best not to think about that, best just to think about Myara and the girls. But how could I get to them? With that thing out there waiting for me, it had to know I was in here, why else would it have tried to force it’s way in earlier? Not like it would have been throwing itself at the lavatory door because it really had to go number two.
My bowels twisted again and I dropped the belt and the porcelain lid, doubling over and clutching my stomach with both hands, sweat dripped down into my eyes and I was sure that I was about to go number two myself, right there in my tighty whities. Like the situation wasn't bad enough. After a few terrifying moments the sensation passed and I managed to straightened up, eyes fixed on the open office doorway expecting that thing to appear there, it’s crazed eyes full of hate and rage and predatory cunning. Those eyes that would have me waking in a cold sweat for years to come, if I was to live past the next few moments that was.
I recovered my strange weapons and continued to watch the door barely daring to blink, standing like a statue listening to the loud thump of my heart. It looked like that ugly pee soaked carpet might have just saved my life, if I had dropped the cistern lid onto a tiled floor then it would have made one hell of racket. To think I’d been wondering earlier about who in their right mind would put carpet in a toilet, now I was just extremely grateful that they had.
It looked like I had two choices, I could either tiptoe quietly and slowly towards the door hoping the thing wouldn't realize what I was doing or I could sprint for it with everything I was worth and try to get it shut and locked. Deciding on option one I took two tentative steps into the room.
Now it was a race! I charged for the door and slammed it shut activating the lock on the knob, before sliding onto my backside with my back pressed up against the door, puffing like an old steam train. Not bad for fat old git hay Mr monster?
It threw itself against the door repeatedly while making those insane sounds. It’s assault this time was longer and more ferocious. Just when I was sure it was going to smash the door off it’s hinges all the commotion stopped and the thing took off down the corridor grunting and snarling and making that horrible hissing sound.
Something, or more likely someone had gotten its attention. Looked like maybe I wasn’t the only survivor after all, who ever it was must have realized their chance and now I needed to do the same thing.
I got unsteadily to my feet and opened the door into empty corridor, the entrance to the stairs was just across the way, I could make it. Then the screaming and the sounds started again. It was too much, all too much, my mind and my bladder gave way.
When I came too I had no idea where I was, then the nightmare came rushing back, battering my fragile mind like a hurricane battering a small boat. All I could do was shake and cry in a curled ball on the Mr Kennard's sofa. My pants were soaked with piss and at some point I’d vomited down the front of my blood stained shirt. I must look like some miserable old geezer who’d been on an all night bender after his team had lost the FA cup by a goal.
Sitting up and looking around the room I realized that somehow I’d managed to stack a heavy bookcase and a filing cabinet against the door, in my crazed state I’d even added a potted plant on top of the pile, the sight was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh. Today on sixty minute makeover, Ted from Faversham makes over the vice president's office.
I pushed myself slowly up off the sofa, my whole body feeling stiff and sore and shuffled towards the window. A bowl of fruit sat on Mr Kennard’s desk along with his phone, a wooden pencil holder, a thick stack of post it notes and a framed picture of his wife. What was her name? Jenny, Jemma something like that? A pretty women with overly bleached hair and a fake orange tan, smiling wide for the camera and showing her white even teeth, now she was a widow. I hadn’t liked Kennard, but I wouldn’t wish his fate on anyone. I placed the photo face down on the desk.
I pulled the cord on the venetian blinds to retract them all the way up to get a better view of the street below. To the right a barricade had been set up where Church road intersected with High Street. A fire engine, two ambulances and several military trucks were parked behind the barricades. Across the road St Anne's hospital was on fire, three fire trucks were parked out front and several firefighters were working hard to get the blaze under control. Standing along side of the firefighters were about a dozen heavily armed soldiers. Had that thing escaped from the hospital and ended up in the building?
Suddenly all over the floor telephones started ringing, including the one on the desk behind me. With a trembling hand I reached over and lifted the receiver.
“Hello, this is sergeant Lisa Wilson, to whom am I speaking?”
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