When the night comes out presents the hive parn eight. Reg knew that he
was almost out of ammo. He could tell by how light the rifle felt
once the bullets were gone. He had his knife, but he didn't think
he could hold these guys off for very long with that. How had there
gotten to be so many of them? There were maybe twenty left, all
prisoners and guards combined. He had lost far too many along the way.
Fighting their way along the hallway, grabbing as many prisoners as they could,
they fired and fired, and the Ghules fell and fell, but somehow there
were always more to take their place. Redge's group was so close to their
destination. They were near to where the big metal doors could close and seal
off this entire wing. Reg was sure that he could seal off more of
the air shafts, and maybe that could keep the Ghules in this area.
Where was q That was the one thing nagging inside his brain. They had
lost him and not been able to find him. However, they had also
not seen him among the snarling, toothy beasts that were swarming them and attacking
them with a mindless relentlessness that was exhausting. If he was not among them.
Then where was he? If they closed the doors, they were sealing
que up in here with these things still, Reg thought, when you had
to make the tough decisions, this was what they were talking about. The
rest of the hive, and Hive city was at stake. Reg raised his
rifle and fired, sending another bullet into the head of yet another of these
things. The head exploded and the body fell. Then he aimed and fired
again, wash rinsed, repeat as he raised his rifle and fired again and
again. I'm out of ammo, one of his guards said, just to
his left, use your knife. Reg said, struggling to keep the calm
in his voice, that he was known for. Stab the fuck is in
the head. There was a groan from the guard and his rifle clattered to
the ground and the knife unsheathed. Funny how your senses could be so heightened
during a situation like this one. The prisoners were all carrying hand weapons,
but they were still in the middle with a perimeter of guards around them.
That band of guards had gotten much smaller, and more than a few of
the prisoners had engaged the enemy hand to hand, and a couple of them
had been lost too. When Reg looked over the crowd of surging ghouls.
He could see his guards that had been bitten, their helmets making them stand
out from the crowd. More than a few times he had had to shoot
someone he knew. Yes, he was a guard and most of these things
were prisoners, but it was impossible not to know faces exchange a few names
when you lived this close to people for so long. It was still odd
to have to shoot someone that you knew, no matter how dead they already
were were almost out. Reg called, glancing over his shoulder and finding the
track that the metal doors took when they closed. Just a few more yachts,
keep it up. His men began to move with a renewed vigor.
At that announcement, the ghouls themselves attacked in waves. They would circle around
and around, as if looking for a weak point, and then they would
rush forward and try to break through the wall of guards and guns. Then
they would pull away and circle. Reg and his men had taken to trying
to pick off as many of them as they could. When they were circling,
Reg kept moving sideways, moving, moving, firing, firing, taking
each shot deliberately. Then they attacked in a swarm again, one of his
guards let out a screen, and he saw out of the corner of his
eye the man get dragged into the mat of creatures, arms flailing, but
blood already flying into the air as the ghules bit and chore. Then one
of the prisoners was grabbed from behind. The ghul bit into the man's neck.
More blood spurted and spattered on the floor. The prisoners in the middle
fell on the ghul, driving spikes and shives and knives into the thing's head.
There were more to take the place of that one, however, reg
fired, aimed, fired, aimed, fired. Each time another Ghul fell,
it was from a bullet in their head. He was getting damn good
at this, he thought crazily. Perhaps he could take the sniper test again.
Something grabbed his right arm at the elbow, and it threw off his
aim and the bullet went wide. He felt pressure above his elbow and turned
to see one of the ghules biting his arm. The teeth could not get
through the pad of armor he wore there. Rege let out a cry of
disgust and kicked out, pushing the ghul away. The ghul staggered back,
and the lunged again. Rege swung the butt of his rifle and cracked the
thing in the head. Then he swung the gun around and fired up into
the thing's chin. Blood and brains flew from the thing's head, and then
it went down. Then something else jumped on his back, and he could
feel the teeth trying to bite at his neck. Rege let out a yell
and began to turn in a circle, reaching up to grab at the thing
on his back, turning and twirling in an attempt to keep the thing off
balance and prevent the teeth from biting. He grabbed the rifle and swung the
butt again, felt it crack against something, and then the thing was off
his back. Reg whirled and fired a bullet point blank into the thing's head.
Reg looked up. They were past the point of the doors. Push
him back, he screamed, raising his gun to fire again. Push him
back. The prisoners and remaining guards gave him a moment's look as if he
were crazy, and then they all seemed to realize where they were. They
fought, pushed, fired, stabbed, bludgeoned, and shoved the ghules back
back behind where the track was getting a. Reg screamed fatigue and stress,
making him forget to address his boss in the formal way he usually did.
Close the doors. Close the doors to m wing now hurry. There was
no argument from Kettenger. Instead, a loud, metallic screech filled the air,
and the huge, thick metal doors began to close. Reg and his
men and the prisoners set up a line just outside of the track the doors
took and fought the Ghules as they tried another attack reaching for them. One
of the prisoners fought, but was grabbed by several of them and yanked through
and lost into the crowd of Ghules, his screams fading fast, Reg finally
ran out of bullets and joined the free swinging his rifle like a club,
using all of his strength to crack open the skulls of anything with sharp pointed
teeth that came at them. It seemed to take an eternity for the doors
to close. When they got close, the Ghules let out their trademark screech
and surged, trying to cramp through the narrowing slit between the doors. Three
of them were sliced in half when the door slammed shut, the top halves
of their bodies cling forward their hands digging into the floor and pulling forward as
their entrails dragged behind them, their teeth gnashing. Reg and his men finished
them off with blows to the head. Then there was silence, The pounding
from the ghules on the metal doors muffled by the thickness of them. Reg
bent over and breathed deep, his hands on his knees. He felt dizzy
for a moment. Where was Qosh? The demons burst in and charged at
him without hesitation. Q did his best to stay calm, regulating his heart
and breathing like he heard somewhere that you were supposed to do. You wanted
to take careful aim, yeah, he thought, But I bet the person
who came up with that never had to fight a horde of charging zombie demons.
He aimed at the ones coming through the main door, first point shoot
point, shoot one in the head, then two, then three. He
heard a noise to his right and pivoted, swinging the barrel around. There
was one, all pointed teeth and gaping maw, almost on him, and
he shot it through the mouth, then shot the one behind that one in
the forehead. He heard another noise, a kind of snarling gargling sound from
his left, and he pivoted again. Another one, a woman, probably
a nurse, was swallowing his elbow. He yanked it away before the duel
rows of sharp pointed teeth could come down on him, and shot her through
the eye. Then he shot another, a prisoner, through his eye.
Q was sweating and they were upon him. They were going to overwhelm him
with sheer numbers. He heard a sound and saw more of their number piling
through the open front door. He saw that several of them wore guard uniforms.
He tried to see if reg was among them, but they covered him
too fast and he couldn't tell for sure. The rest of the bullets and
the rifle went fast. He managed to fire each of them and managed to
score a head shot with each last bullet. He had managed to kill about
a dozen of them, but there were dozens more. He reached down and
grabbed his crude spear and lashed out with a yell, driving the pointed metal
end into the chin of another of the ghouls. The pointed metal drove all
the way up into the thing's skull. He felt arms and hands grabbing at
him from behind as he tried to work the spear loose. He worked it
loose and then used it to smash another in the side of the head.
Then he drove forward and got another one through its left eye. He kicked
out with his left leg to push three of them that had bunched up near
his side away from him. He felt their fingers grasping at his pants.
He worked the spear loose and whirled around, driving forward, stabbing another one
in the head. His arms already ached, he was breathing hard. They,
on the other hand, never tired and never pulled a muscle. They
were relentless and kept coming and coming. It was hopeless. Q felt it
in his gut. He knew that this was a possibility, but facing it
was more terrifying than he realized it would be. Q let out another yell,
hoping in some dim part of his brain that this sounded intimidating. If
any of the ghouls were intimidated, they didn't show it. They just kept
coming, charging at him. He worked the spear loose again and speared another,
But now he was backing up, backing towards his room and his place
of safety. He was thinking of the reinforced door and how that would hold
them off. The room was free of air shafts too. He would be
able to hold up there and get in touch with Mike, and they would
send in the National fucking Guard and get him out of there. He speared
another, then another, aiming for the head, hitting one in the shoulder.
This one was a former guard that Q recognized. The guard ghouls snarled
at him, showing the teeth, and yanked the spear out of Q's hand.
God damn it. Q turned and ran. He heard the feet of
the dozens of the creatures running at him, snarling, making strange noises,
noises that sounded to Q like hunger, intense burning and constant hunger. He
made it into the doorway, whirled around and slammed the door. He caught
a hand in the door, the bloody digits clawing at the air and reaching
for him. He pushed harder, throwing his weight against the door, and
the hand severed, falling to the floor, where it twitched and grabbed at
the air. The door slammed shut. Q threw the lock, then he
backed away. The door rattled in its frame. The frame was reinforced two,
however, and held. Q hoped the walls would hold. Had they
reinforced the walls around the door with the drywall or sheet rock or whatever,
the flying fuck the wall that held the door and its frame give way.
He could hear them out there, slobbering and drooling and snapping at the wood.
He heard their ragged fingernails across the wood, tearing out splinners on the
other side. But the door was holding. Dear God, please let it
hold. Q backed into the room until he could reach the phone on the
wall. He picked it up in dialed buttons. He held it to his
head, breathing hard, sweat and blood running down his forehead and rivulets.
The other end of the phone rang once, and then there was a voice.
Yeah, Mike, it's Q, He said you, Thank God,
where the fuck are you? I just heard from Redge. He's out of
the wing and we closed the metal doors. They lost a bunch of his
men and a bunch of prisoners, but we got another whole bunch out.
I'm about to head to the cafeteria to see what's up. Can you meet
me there. Q cleared his throat and almost laughed. Mike was still trying
to control things, make a plan, get the issue resolved. I don't
think so, Mike. I kind of got separated from the group. I
had to run back to the hospital. I'm locked in one of the rooms
with the reinforced doors. There are dozens of these things out there pounding on
the door and trying to get in. There was silence on the other end
of the line for a long time. Q thought for a moment that the
connection had been lost. Jesus, Q. Mike said quietly, Okay,
I'll get Red and put a rating team together. We'll head down there and
burst you out. Hold tight, no, Q shouted before Mike could hang
up the phone. Don't do that. I'll be fine for a while help,
maybe even days, as long as I have water. If you sign
another team down here, you'll just lose more men. You need to get
together with some people and come up with a plan. You have them contained,
so figure out a way to wipe them all out at once. When
that's done, you can come get me. Another long pause. Jesus,
trust me, Mike. I don't like it any better than you do,
but it's got to happen. We're gonna be out of guards and we cannot
afford to lose redg sit tight, Q, stay alive, you asshole.
Then he was gone. The silence was terrifying, and Q had never felt
more alone in his entire life. He moved towards a small desk where the
nurses tending the patient in this room would make notes in their chart, and
sat down. He rolled all the way to the wall. He held the
metal spear in his right hand. Outside, the hands clawed at the door.
Fists pounded, and it went on and on and on. Then as
Q watched, he saw the doorknob twitch in the doorframe. It went left
and right, and the door shook. They had just tried the doorknob.
What the hell? Q closed his eyes and wiped his forehead and began to
pray. Kettenger was wearing a hole in the rug between the window that overlooked
the hive and the bank of monitors along the wall. Right now, that
bank of monitors, one of the things he had always been so fond of,
was useless. All of the action was taking place in a section of
the prison that it had those cameras disabled somehow. When the phone rang and
it was rege, he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he thought,
during that moment it took to cross the room, pick up the phone,
and put that phone to his ear. Some good news. The news
was good that Rege was still alive, but not so good when he heard
that there were now more of these ghoul things and that he had lost more
guards. His heart sank into his shoes. When Rege told him that Q
was not among the survivors and he had no idea where the man was.
Kettenger put the phone down and then grabbed his vest the rest of his and
headed for the cafeteria. Jennifer trailed behind him, telling him over and over
again that he should stay at the command center. He finally just told her
to shut up and either stay there and monitor things herself, or put on
some tactical gear and come with him. The cafeteria was only seldom used by
prisoners. It was on the lower floor of the administration building and was normally
used by the staff. However, some prisoners who had proven trustworthy were allowed
to congregate there, mostly the trustees. Whenever that happened, the workers in
the building were cleared out and the trustees ate under heavy guard, but it
was still a welcome relief from being served their meals and their cells. Kettinger
was halfway there when his phone started going off. He had no idea what
the number was, but he had hope that it was Q. When he
heard Q's voice, he was relieved and felt that maybe things were not spinning
out of control. Then Q gave him the news that he was trapped inside
them medical ward and that seemingly hundreds of the ghouls were all over the door.
Ketenger cursed when he hung up and began jogging to the cafeteria. He
had to make a plan. He was the kind of guy who planned things,
and he had to save the hive. He was not going to let
everyone inside this thing die or turn into one of those things with the pointed
teeth and decaying flesh. When he reached the cafeteria, his heart sank.
The men that were there were obviously in no condition for another fight. The
guards that remained, and there were so few of them, were tired,
bloody, and worn out. The prisoners were no better off, and all
of them looked terrified. Even Reg, good, old, dependable and reliable
Reg looked completely exhausted. When Kennegar found him sitting on one of the tables
in a far corner, Reg, Kennenger asked. Reg raised his head and
looked at Kettenger. The haunted look in the man's eyes froze Kettinger's blood.
It was awful, Boss Reg said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
You have no idea how bad it was. And those things are still
in there and can still use the airshafts. They had already lost one entire
wing of the prison to those things. The reality of that statement slammed home
in Kettinger's mind. He had lost a part of his prison to some weird
disease that turned people into slavering monsters. It was unreal. I heard from
Q. Kettinger said. He made it back to the hospital and he's locked
in one of those rooms with the reinforced doors. He's completely trapped. Reg
studied Ketenger's face for several moments. I don't think I can go back in
that. Boss Reg said, there will be more of them by now.
Look at the prison. As we got back, that's not even half of
the prisoners. That a house down there. We got a lot out,
but the numbers of zombies got so bad we had to just run. Kettenger
could tell that this bothered Redge. Reg had been forced to choose who would
live and who was left to their fate. It was a decision that he
was never supposed to have to make. It was going to tear him apart.
We have to save the Hive, Redge Kenninger said, reaching out a
hand and placing it on the other man's shoulder. We have to save Hive
City, and we have to stop these things. They moved so fast,
Reg said. They started out slow, but they seemed to gain strength from
each person that they turned. Now they just overwhelm you with shan numbers.
One bite and that's it. How do we defeat something like that? Kennenger
sighed and moved away from the spot where Reg sat. He thought of Jenny,
and of all of the people in the administration building. He thought of
the remaining guards, all of them probably willing to throw themselves into the battle
to save the Hive. He thought of the remaining prisoners, hundreds of them.
They were just sitting in their cells and waiting for the air vents to
crash open and the snarling, biting, decaying things to come pouring in and
tear them apart. No, it had to stop, and it had to
stop now, right now, they were contained within one section of the prison,
and they had to find a way to stop them now. But the
person was not equipped to deal with this. If the reports were true and
the things were dead already, then how could they use gas and all of
the other things they had installed to prevent riots from actual living people. There
was no way to deal with ghouls or zombies. He had to kill or
destroy hundreds of things that were already apparently dead. There was only one person
he could think of that might have the ability to come up with a plan
to destroy hundreds of creatures so completely that they could not come back and tear
the rest of them apart. Just one person who knew how to make explosives
and gas and other things of sheer terror and horror that somehow we're even more
scary than the hundreds of ghouls currently in the Hive's vowels. Just one person,
get me, Dalton King Kenninger said. You've been listening to When the
Night Comes Out the Hive. Tune in next time for the Hive Part nine
written by Brian w Alaspa, narrated and produced by Ali James, Music by
Bebek Abishek. Catch up on the first four seasons of When the Night Comes
Out. Now support us on Patreon for more terrifying content.