Awakening: The First Tale of the Trine (Trine Series Book 1) (9 page)

Friday, August 3
rd
07:35 EST.

Delmont Jeffries, Greensboro, N.C.

“You want some coffee?” Delmont offered the agent sitting on his couch. He couldn’t remember the name of the fellow, or his partner outside, who had taken over watch once Donaldson and Stanley brought him home last night.

“Yes, please,” the agent responded. Noticing that Delmont was fully dressed in khakis, shirt, and tie, he inquired, “Were you planning on going into work today?”

“Of course,” Delmont replied. “I missed yesterday with all this insanity, and in my line of work, every day you miss leaves a mess that takes a week to clean up. If I miss today too…” he shook his head dolefully. “Well, trust me, it wouldn’t be pretty. I’m not real fond of the work, but it pays the bills.”

Delmont poured a tall mug of coffee, then let it sit on the counter while he dug his aspirin out of the cabinet. The doctor told him to take one a day for his blood pressure, but most mornings he needed two for his head. He had cracked the wax on a fresh bottle of Makers Mark last night after he got home, and taken the bottle to bed with him. The headache it gave him was a small price to pay for the peace it brought to his dreams. He shook two pills into his hand, then tossed them into his mouth, biting down on them so the bitter burst would help clear his morning fog. Taking a swallow of his coffee, he said, “So you boys going to drive me to work today and keep an eye on me?”

“Yes, sir,” the agent replied. “We will take you to your office, where Agents Donaldson and Stanley will return for day duty. We will be back tonight, and continue rotating until…well, until all of this clears up.”

“Sounds good. I want to thank you and your partner again for all of this. I have seen some crazy things in my life, but this just beats the hell out of me. I’m going to try to keep on moving forward as normally as I can, and if any more of this alien rigmarole comes up, well, I’m just going to let you gentlemen deal with all that for me. Sound good to you?”

“We’ll make sure of it, sir. We’ll be there while you go about your day, always within shouting distance. I’ll let the team know the plan, and when you’re ready, come on out and I’ll walk you to the car.” After filling up two of Delmont’s travel mugs, the agent stepped outside and shut the door to his apartment.

Unplugging his cell phone from its charger, Delmont noticed that he had a text from his wife Sandra. They had been separated for almost a year, and most of their communication centered around their daughter, Kayla. The text read,
“Please let us know you’re ok this morning. We’re both worried about you.”

Delmont typed in a quick reply.
“I’m fine, on my way to work. Tell Kayla I’ll call tonight.”
The wording of Sandy’s text filled him with a warm optimism. He wanted his family back more than anything, but Sandy had made it clear that he needed to get help with his “issues.” She believed that medicines and therapy could help him keep out the guilt and the memories that waited for him in the darkness. He knew the truth. There was no hiding from the things he had done, and the bodies he had left behind. No amount of talking would calm those restless dead, and pharmaceutical companies didn’t make a pill for a damaged soul.

“The devil does, though,” Delmont said quietly, looking at the bottle of whiskey on his night stand. The bottle left him impotent and ill as a hornet, but it brought him peace for a few hours at a time.

Once he was sure he had everything, Delmont locked up his apartment and went down to meet the agents at their black Lincoln Navigator. It was identical to the one he had been brought home in last night, inside and out. “You boys know where my office is at?” Delmont asked.

“Yes, sir,” the driver replied. “The law office at the corner of Greene Street?”

“That’s it. It’s a big old three story building, you can’t miss it,” Delmont said, settling comfortably into the back seat. “Just drop me off out front. You said the other boys would be coming to meet us over there and keep watch out, then bring me home tonight?”

“Yes, sir” the driver replied.

Realizing these fellows weren’t long on conversation, Delmont lapsed into silence. The agent in the passenger seat turned on the radio after a few minutes, dialing in a classic rock station. “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals set a somber tone as they pulled up to his office building.

Delmont waved to the agents as he slammed the door of the SUV, then looked forlornly at the drab brick building which housed the law firm where he was employed. “This is my house of the rising sun,” he mumbled as he waved his key-fob over the scanner, causing the bolts in the door to retract. “The only time I see the goddamned sun is when I’m coming into this hellhole. My days are spent in sin and misery. And we’ve ruined the lives of many a poor boy, haven’t we?” he whispered, as he spotted one of the attorneys pulling into the lot in his Porsche.

Delmont hustled up the back stairs, the fastest way to get to what he considered this building’s finest feature. In the back breakroom, management, in a fit of almost unheard of generosity, had seen fit to spring for a Keurig. He filled a cup of French vanilla, and soon after settled into his windowless interior office to review all of the messages that had accumulated in his absence yesterday.

“Only twenty-six voicemails after missing a day?” he mumbled in surprise, pressing the delete button repeatedly on his phone. “Mrs. Brinlow must be taking her Ambien finally. Usually that lady can’t go a night without at least a dozen messages.”

Perking up, he logged into his computer and was pleasantly surprised by the outpouring of support in his co-workers e-mails. Usually all of the legal assistants were completely autonomous, and required little interaction with one another. Putting the incredible events he had been a part of yesterday out of his mind, he settled in to focus on the routine business at hand. The familiarity of his job as a paralegal helped calm his troubled mind. It always had, and was one of the main reasons he stayed in this role, as he absolutely despised the narcissism and entitlement of the clients.

After several hours, and as many cups of coffee, Delmont got up to do a lap around the building and stretch his legs. He was in his early forties now, and his knees and lower back ached if he sat too long. He rubbed his eyes absently, which were burning faintly.
Must be screen glare
he thought, as he made his way back towards the mail room.
If eye strain is the worst thing that happens to me, I’ll be luckier than most of these poor bastards. Ah hell, what I am complaining about…
he wondered as he picked up a thick envelope addressed to him.
At least I could find a job with a degree in political science. What was the name of that slob who graduated with me and was working installing guardrails? I bet he was relieved when he fell off that embankment…

His musings had him so distracted that at first he mistook the screech from the call center as a baby crying. The women that worked in there were forever bringing their children with them when school was out, or they were ill. Delmont had many times thought whimsically while listening to them screaming through the wall that Dante had been remiss in not making at least one level of Hell a combined law firm and daycare.

This screech, however, instead of turning into a vaguely recognizable “MINE” or “NOW”, went on and on, reaching a pitch that Delmont had heard a human make only a few times before…on a battlefield. He realized that his eyes were burning worse than ever, and there seemed to be an acrid smell in the air, like bleach. He clutched the thick package containing the hundreds of pages of documents to his chest, and ran for the center of the building, where the noise was originating.

The call center was jokingly called the “fish bowl” by the ladies that worked inside of it, as it was walled from waist to ceiling on all four sides by glass. It allowed visitors to see how a modern law firm worked, and also allowed management plenty of angles to look over employee’s shoulders. The ceiling was made of slide away panels, which allowed the IT department easy access to all the wiring necessary for the department.

As Delmont charged around the corner, he saw that those panels now littered the floor and the cubicles inside the fish bowl. He skidded to a stop, and felt his legs go numb at what he saw inside. His eyes were watering freely now, and he swiped at his face as if to clear them of the image before him.

He had worked in the call center for years before being promoted out. Two of his old coworkers were slumped back in their chairs, pinned down by the things that had burst out of the ceiling. They were jet black insects, each at least a foot long, with bodies composed of two segments and a dozen legs. They had a double row of bright yellow spots down each segment, which seemed to glow. For a second that seemed to stretch into eternity, his mind refused to accept what he was seeing. Then, as his vision cleared, the yellow spots swam into focus. He realized they were eyes, as the abomination pinning down his coworker Mandy shifted to bring him into line with its back.

He witnessed the creature extend some sort of proboscis from its forward segment, which it jammed into her still screaming mouth. A torrent of yellowish fluid spewed from it, overflowing her mouth and stifling her scream. Thick oily smoke poured from her cheeks as the substance melted away the flesh around her mouth and neck, then burned down into her abdomen. The creature shifted again, and from underneath its rear section, a thick, stinger like extension burst forth, shattering her ribs with its force. The stinger bulged sickeningly, and with a horrid slurping she began to collapse inward as the creature feasted on her.

Sensation returned to his lower limbs, along with a feeling of tingling warmth. The smell which had been burning his eyes seemed to be coming from the acidic substance which was still flowing out of the creature. He realized that he was leaning against the wall, pressing himself away from the windows, and knew that he had almost passed out. He could see dozens of the insects inside the call center, fighting over the occupants, knocking each other out of the way as they tried to pin down their victims and devour them.

He had taken all of this in, almost blacked out, and recovered his faculties all in just a few seconds. In those brief moments, one of the creatures noticed him, and leaped upon the glass directly in front of him. He could get a clear look at the underside of it now, and he saw the abdomen split open to reveal what he had thought was a stinger. It slammed it into the glass, shattering it and spilling the creature out towards him.

The warmth that Delmont had felt flicker briefly in his legs suddenly blazed throughout his body. He remembered this sensation with a rush of euphoria. He had felt it dozens of times in Afghanistan during combat, but no amount of adrenaline in his civilian life had ever been able to trigger it again. The rage swept through him as he watched these people he had known for years torn apart. He felt his heart leap within his chest as every muscle in his body seemed to hum and vibrate with his pulse. The hideous insect that had broken through the glass raised its head, already leaking its molten venom. Delmont slapped the thick stack of documents he had been clutching down on top of the monster, and then stomped the file, grinding down on the creature as its putrid guts exploded onto the nearby wall. The insect’s viscera smoldered through the wood, sending up trails of greasy smoke.

Though the stairwell was only a few feet away, Delmont never considered fleeing. Instead he leapt over the low window sill that the insect had shattered, snatching up a letter opener and pair of scissors from the small desk in the cubicle. There were dozens of the creatures scurrying around the call center, several of which began to advance on him in short hops.

Delmont charged straight towards them, angling himself over to the large copy machine nearby. The closest insect exposed its proboscis, preparing to spray corrosive digestive fluid. Delmont slammed the letter opener into the appendage, then skewered the body with the scissors. Singeing his hand where the creature was impaled, Delmont released his weapons and jumped forward, bringing both of his feet down on the next one with a sickening squelch.

The acrid stench they released as they died scalded his nose and throat, and he could barely see through his streaming eyes. The creatures seemed to respond to their companions’ distress, and dozens of them swarmed towards him in a mass. Delmont stepped around the copier, which was still humming busily as it printed up a series of contracts. His shoe leather smoked from the insects he had crushed underfoot, and splatters of their fluids burned his hands. He hadn’t felt such dark joy in years, and his face was fixed in a grin as his deep baritone voice erupted in song:

Here's health to you and to our Corps

Which we are proud to serve;

The insects never paused in their advance, unaware that this toast was their dirge. As the first few swarmed around the side of the copier Delmont heaved it over, crushing them explosively. Their ichor soaked his shins, and his khaki pants began to disintegrate. Without pausing in his song, Delmont flexed mightily and lifted the entire copier overhead, ripping the shoulders of his dress shirt with the effort:

In many a strife we've fought for life

And never lost our nerve.

He smashed the machine down onto the mass of chitinous bodies, shifted his grip, then brought it down again, stomping through a stinking mass of flattened shells. The drawers flew out and copy paper rained down around them as he continued to drive forward with the huge industrial printer. Once the last of the swarm lay twitching under him, he advanced across the room, still roaring his song: