When the Night Comes Out presents the Hive Part nine. Dalton King cell had
moved a few times over the years. He had ended up after his very
dramatic entrance, not being much of a problem from that point forward. In
fact, Kenninger had started to visit with the man on a regular basis.
He was curious about King, wanted to know what made him tick, and
he would sit just outside king cell and the two would talk. Then about
a year ago they started to play chess. King won pretty much every game,
but Ketnenger found the man fascinating, even though King was savvy enough to
talk a lot but not really talk about anything. What Kennenger did learn from
all of the hours watching him was that King was a strategist and had a
sharp mind. Of course, he had already suspected that, since a man
who was not sharp could not have masterminded such global attacks and terrorist initiatives.
From what Kenenger had heard from the surface world. King's group still did terrorist
attacks and demonstrations, but nothing on the scale of the things Dalton King had
planned. As for King, he seemed to like the isolation. He was
a man very in tune with himself, and he seemed to like spending the
hours in his cell. He did a lot of reading and had devoured most
of the books in the hives library and had been granted access to a special
digital library. All of his reading was carefully monitored, of course, but
he had never varied from the approved reading list, and as far as they
could tell, never attempted contact with anyone on the surface these days. His
cell was still very low in the hive, but not right up against the
medical way like it had been initially. He had spent six months in that
cell, and it had never stopped smelling like a slaughter house. At some
point, it was just unhealthy, and it would not do to have the
most prized prisoner in the hive die from some infection from dead tissue in his
cell. They had sealed off that cell and moved Dalton King up a couple
of levels and a little closer to the administrative building. He was down a
short hallway off of the main hive walkway, still isolated but not quite as
buried alive. Kettenger moved with several of the guards, including Redge, towards
that cell. Kettenger wore no armor and had no fear of the man King
might even be aware of what was going on and how dire things were.
It benefited King to cooperate unless he had a deep burning desire to become one
of those ghouls. Of course, Kettenger reached out and hit the censor that
would cause the cell door to transform from opaque to transpat Behind Kettinger was a
wall of guards with their guns drawn. To Kettinger's right was a small table
upon which sat their current game of chess. When the cell door went transparent,
Kettinger gave a start. Dalton King was dressed and standing in the middle
of the cell. He had his arms behind him, his feet shouldered with
the part, and a look of seriousness and concern on his face. Michael,
good to see you, King said, I don't think you're here to
play chess. Kettinger shook his head. How much do you already know?
Not much? But I've heard the alarms. I've heard the gunfire, shouting
and explosions. King replied, Then, not too long ago, I heard
more alarms and heard those large metal doors closing. It sounded to me,
despite the echoing effect you get down here, that it was centered around the
medical wing. Am I right as always? Kettinger paused, it's bad.
Dalton Kettinger went on to explain everything that he knew. He even told King
the parts that he thought was utter nonsense, such as the fact that these
demonic things seemed to be reanimated dead. Indeed, King said, you know,
most legends have some kind of kernel of truth at the very bottom of
the story. When you trace them back, you find that there was some
reason those legends came to be. What you may have unearthed here was some
ancient creature, demonic, perhaps buried beneath the surface of the planet for centuries.
And what that demonic entity may do is exactly what you describe, reanimate
the dead. This may be where the legends and stories of what we call
zombies started. These may be what the actual original zombies were. They were
demons that inhabited the bodies of the recently dead, and they grew in number
by transferring their essence via the bites that you have witnessed. They also have
a nasty habit, perhaps a need to devour human flesh to survive. Ketnenger
let him talk. Dalton King had proved wise deducing things, and he was
always very open to ideas, no matter how ridiculous. Over the course of
their conversations, he had many times told Kenninger that the worden was much too
realistic and dealt with absolutes more than he should. What we may have thought
about zombies will have to be reconsidered. King continued. They may not be
the mindless, shambling things from the movies. They seem to think, react,
and even plan. From what you've been able to tell me, Michael,
they might have some form of intelligence which makes them even more terrifying and
far more dangerous. Right now, they might be trying to find a way
to get out of the medical ward of true concern crossed King's face. Michael,
if these things take over and manage to get out of here, they
would pose a true threat to the entire existence of humankind on the surface.
King said. While there was a time when that would have appealed to me,
the fact is that these things kill without thinking about political agendas. They
would kill and kill and kill even my own people until they were the dominant
life on the planet. King stared Kenninger straight in the eyes, burning with
intensity. What do you need from me, Michael? I need you to
help me devise a way to wipe out all of them, Kenninger said,
and we need to do it fast. King gave a nod. I thought
as much, he said, I'm more than willing to help. No tricks,
Kenninger said. King managed to look hurt, of course, not Michael,
Where would I go? Then? King smiled and at sent chills up
and down Kennenger's spine. However, he had also learned over the years that
King had a wicked sense of humor. Let him out, Kennenger said to
his guards, waving his hand, Let's not put him in restraints. The
guard looked dubious, still remembering how King had murdered his fellow guards when he
first came here. It had been tough over the years to stop the guards
from enacting retribution against King for that day. Kennenger had not always been very
successful either, and there were times when he would come down to talk to
Dalton King and find him bruised or sore. Despite this, he had never
turned over who had beaten him. He kept quiet, and Kennenger had no
one to punish. This time, the fear of the ghouls must have outdone
his fear of Dalton King, because the guard stepped forward and unlocked the door.
The door slid sideways with a shushing sound, and Dalton King King stepped
out. We better move, King said. Kettenger nodded, and the entire
group took off at a kind of trot. They were heading back toward Kettinger's
office. As they ran, Kettinger noticed that King was turning his head to
the left and right, a concerned look on his face. We need to
evacuate the rest of the prisoners, King said, just as they were reaching
the doors for the administration building. I think they'll be safe inside their cells.
Kettinger said, If these creatures are traveling via the air shafts, there's
no cell that is safe. King replied, you were just feeding their armies.
If you don't get hold of the prisoners into the administration building, I
believe the lower floor has a gymnasium. It may be crowded, but it
might be better to have them there than out there with the gnashing teeth.
Right, Kenninger thought fast the idea of having hundreds of prisoners, some of
whom did not like others within their numbers, cramped into the gymnasium did not
sound like a good idea. However, he had to admit that the puny
metal he had put up as an attempt to keep the Ghuls away was not
likely to hold. Fine Kettinger said, we don't have enough guards. The
prisoners will help, King said, as they entered the elevators and headed up
to Kettinger's office, Get on the public address system and tell them what's happening.
Be honest, Michael, this is their home as well. It may
not be ideal, but where else do they have to go? They'll fight
for it. Kettinger said nothing, but had to admit that somehow that logic
made sense. A mass escape or takeover of the prison was unlikely, and
every moment that he spent debating was another moment that those things down in the
medical wing were trying to get out, perhaps finding a way deeper into the
hive and turning more prisoners into one of their numbers. Fine Kettinger said it
had fallen very quiet. Q sat in the chair up against the wall,
facing the door, his spear within reach. The room was dim, and
for a long time the only sound he heard was the pounding on the door
from the things outside. He prayed and prayed that the doorframe and the wall
would hold despite some very hard pounding and thrashing. The walls held, and
so did the door. The ghouls seemed to grow bored. It had been
about twenty minutes since he last heard any pounding. When the communicator on his
shoulder let out a beeB Q nearly jumped completely out of his skin. This
is Q. It's Mike, Kennenger said, I have Dalton King in my
office and he says we need to move the prisoners into the gymnasium. Jesus,
Mike, things must be much worse off than I thought. They're quiet
here. I'm still in the room and I can still hear them shouting around
outside, but they aren't trying to get in. I need you to get
up and tell me what they're doing, Mike said, I need you to
be my eyes in there for as long as possible. Q let out a
sigh. He had been more than content to sit here until this was over,
or until the ghouls came crashing through the ceiling. Okay, he said,
give me a minute. He stood up and grabbed the spear. Then
he walked very quietly toward the door. He wasn't entirely sure that the creatures
would be able to hear him. Walking, but he wasn't taking any chances.
They seemed at times to respond to sound, so he didn't want to
make any more than was necessary. He reached the door and then began to
sweat as he slowly turned the lock. Q grimaced as the lock clicked open.
He spent several more tense seconds, holding his breath and waiting for the
monsters to crash into the door all at once. When that didn't happen,
he cracked open the door or They were all crowded together in front of the
nurses station. The entire group stank from here of rot and blood and other
things. All of their skin looked gray and as if it had somehow shrunk.
They were little more than dried husks, many of them with their teeth
bear due to the lips being pulled back. Some of them looked barely able
to stand. They're just standing there in a group, Q whispered into his
communicator. They aren't looking so great either. It's like whatever it is that
turned them into these things is using them up fast. They appeared to be
listening to something. All of them had their heads down and were slowly swaying,
but staying in place. Anything else Mike said nothing. Just standing there.
Q closed the door again quietly, and then quietly turned the lock.
THANKSQ, Mike said, sit tight for a bit, going on the PA
system and telling the prisoners what's what. Then we're going to get as many
of them into the gym as we can. We'll get to you right after
Roger. Q leaned against the door and closed his eyes. He felt so
tired, exhausted, really beyond anything he had felt before. However, the
bed in this room was covered in gore from its prior owner, and he
doubted he would be able to sleep. Sleep might mean waking up either dead
or dead and then turned into one of those things. Q turned again and
headed back to his chair. The room felt dark and claustrophobic, but he
also knew that this room was a lot bigger than the cells that housed the
prisoners here at the hive. He had nothing to complain about, well,
except for the flesh eaters outside the door. Q sat down the chair,
squeaking from his weight. He leaned back and closed his eyes. That was
when he heard the noise. It was soft, almost imperceptible, a soft
shushing sound, as if something were sliding across the floor. It happened,
Then there was silence, Then it happened again. What the fuck? Q
raised his head and reached over, fumbling for a bit, finally finding the
light over the desk. He turned it on. He saw nothing but the
gore on the bed and floor and scattered across the wall. With the light
on, the disgusting nature of the room was even more intense. It was
really starting to smell. Q stood up and grabbed the spear. He moved
slowly, heading toward the bed. The bed was only a few feet from
him. Beyond the bed was another short space that led to a door.
Behind that door was the bathroom. There wasn't a lot of room for someone
to he hide. The room had been empty when they did the sweep of
the floor earlier. He was sure of it. He had peered in here
himself. Plus he had been in here for so long now and nothing had
appeared. At the same time, he had also been fighting Ghoules, had
been terrified and frantically trying to hold on to insanity. Exhaustion had caused a
lot of his adrenaline rush to vanish. He stepped closer to the bed.
The sound seemed to have come from the open bathroom door. He held the
spear tighter, going into a slight crouch, his eyes trying to penetrate the
darkness beyond the open door to the bathroom. He saw no movement. The
infection that these things imparted when they bit someone happened fast. That would mean
that if something had been in there, it would have to have already been
a ghoul. If that was the case, why had it not attacked Q
the moment he had entered the room. Could it have been another survivor had
someone inside the hospital ward hidden somewhere when the attacks began. He stepped close
to the bed, ducking down, and then he paused. He waited,
listening. Yes, definitely coming from the bathroom, it seemed. Q stood
up and started to walk toward the foot of the bed, his eyes locked
on the door to the bathroom. If it were a ghoul, he assured
himself, they would come charging out maniacally. What if they found a way
to get in here, he thought, maybe through a vent or something in
the bathroom. Something clamped down on Q's ankle. The grip was hard,
like a vice, and his left leg dragged out behind him. Q let
out a yelp. The spear in his hand went clattering away as he threw
his arms out trying to keep his balance, but he tipped past the point
of no return and fell hard on the floor next to the bed. He
saw stars. His nose glided with the floor, blood shot out and smeared
across the tiles. Something still had his ankle, and suddenly he was being
dragged under the bed. Despite the pain, he grabbed at the floor,
looking for something to hold off the thing dragging him. The floor was just
smooth tile, not so much as a crack appeared where he could grab hold.
He looked back and let out a yell. It was the former resident
of this room. He knew right away from the tattered remains of the hospital
gown that he had been wearing. His mouth was brimming with the telltale sharp
pointed teeth. Below the chest was nothing but entrails and the remnants of a
spine. The ghules must have come in tore him apart, but left enough
of him around that he could reanimate. Q kicked out with his free foot.
His foot connected with the ghul's face. The gul let out a sound
that was part growl and part scream. But he did not let go of
Q's leg. Q kicked again, only this time the gul seemed read and
its other hand flashed out and caught Q's foot in its hand. The fingers
clamped down hard, and Q let out a yell. The other ghuls began
pounding on the door to the room. The one under the bed began pulling
again. Q reached out and grabbed at the bed, nearly pulled underneath.
No way, he thought, there was no way he was going to be
the guy who killed dozens and dozens of these things and then gets bitten and
devoured by one that was cut in half. The edge of the bed crossed
his vision. Still, the ghoul kept pulling. Q reached out and grabbed
at the edge of the bed, his fingers clinging to the metal frame of
the bed. How the hell was this thing so strong? Then he felt
the pain, searing, intense pain as the thing bit through his pant leg
and into his ankle. The sharp needle teeth tore through fabric, skin and
muscle, and he felt another pain as something entered his blood stream. No,
the thing yanked again, and this time Q lost his grip and was
dragged under the bed. He turned and faced the ghoul. Those teeth looking
huge, like picket fences. The thing's eyes looked dead. The skin on
the face was gray, looking like it was rotting, shrinking against the skull
beneath. Then the mouth opened and the stench of rot washed over Q's face.
Meanwhile, Q's leg and lower extremities felt like he was on fire.
His blood was searing, rushing through his system. The world seemed to be
fading away. He was no longer feeling the need to fight. His head
filled with voices, strange voices, a hundred voices, all of them coming
from the hall. Oh, Q whispered, and then he knew nothing more.
You've been listening to When the Night Comes Out The Hive. Tune in
next time for the Hive Part ten written by Brian w Alaspa, narrated and
produced by Ali James, Music by Vivek Abishek. Catch up on the first
four seasons of When the Night Comes Out now Support us on Patreon for more
terrifying content.