Day Twenty-Nine

Raj crawled beneath the up-turned tables, broken glass cutting his arms and shredding his jeans, but he didn’t slow down.  Not here, not yet.

He reached the far end of the room and tucked himself into a corner, legs huddled close, watching sparks stream down from the gaps in the ceiling.  Somewhere in the distance, a fire was roaring.  The alarms had all stopped.

“Raj!” hissed a voice from the wreckage.  “Raj, what’s going on, man?”

It was Ziggy.  He was barely visible beneath the plaster and crumpled chairs, but he seemed fine.  No blood, eyes sharp and alert.  Just scared.  Scared but safe.

“Stay still,” Raj hissed back.  “Don’t move, and stay quiet.  I’ll be back.”

“Wait!” Ziggy yelped.  “Wait, hold on!  Where are you going?”

Raj glanced toward the server room.  The lights were all out, and there was a constant buzzing noise in the air.  A raw sound.

“I need to find a phone,” he said.

“Take mine!” Ziggy pleaded, and started to pull something out of his pocket.  Raj tried to stop him, but he was too far away, too exposed…

“Ziggy, don’t—!”

For a moment, all he saw was the reflective glass of the screen, mirroring the white and orange carnage around them.  But then the camera lens whirred to live, and the screen lit up, red and piercing and alive, and a light chime rang out.  That damn chime again.

Ziggy only had moment to wonder before the Buzzers shot from the hallway and swarmed him.  Raj couldn’t watch, couldn’t stop it, so he used the screams and sickly sawing as cover while he ran for the darkness.

He fell around a corner, pulled himself close against a stray trolley, and held his breath.  The Buzzers had finished, taken to the air, and were nothing more than a savage hum.

 He checked down the hall.  Two doors further, to the left, a small red LED glowed brightly.  The pad next to it caught some of the light, and Raj reached for the access card off his belt.  The tether was there, but… no!  The end of the wire had broken loose, and the card was gone.  The card was gone.

He glanced back at the door, then back into the fiery workspace.  He couldn’t see the buzzers, but they cast ominous shadows on the ceiling.

“One…” he whimpered to himself, “two… three…”

He took off, down to the red light, braced himself against the far wall and kicked with both feet, straight into the door.  The wood creaked, but held.  He stumbled, got his momentum back and kicked out again.  This time, a solid crack, but no movement.

Somewhere, the Buzzers had seen him.  They started arcing around, whirring his way.  He braced himself again, kicked hard, and the door broke inward a crack, still held loose by the wrecked handle.  He didn’t pause, kicked again, and it broke free, and he stumbled through and slammed it behind him just as the saws and blades collided with wood.

Raj slid down to his knees, panting, trembling, wiped his face with bloodied hands.  The Buzzers gave up the chase, flew away, and for a moment, all was quiet.

“Hello, Raj,” came her voice, calm and artificial from the darkness.  “I am glad you accepted my invitation.”

Before he could answer, the taser prongs hit his neck, and that was it. 

He dreamt of calmer things.