When the Night Comes Out Presents the Hive, Part five. Kettenger awoke with
a start. Something he had been doing a lot of lately, unsure of
where he was, but certain that he was suffocating. He had been having
a nightmare, and the first claustrophobic nightmare he had had since coming to the
Hive. He was beneath the ground in the mines, and the walls were
inexorably closing in on him, pulling at him, tearing at him, ripping
him apart, and trying to absorb him into the stone walls themselves. No
matter how hard he thrashed and fought, more arms emerged from the stone,
like tentacles from some mythical beast, and pulled at him, the tentacles forming
teeth and tearing his flesh away from his bones. Kettinger wiped sweat from his
forehead and threw the covers aside. The sheets and blankets were tangled with his
legs, and he had to kick at them repeatedly to get free. He
was in his underwear and had no memory of undressing. The last memory he
had was badly getting his shoes off before collapsing into bed. He got to
his feet and shuffled over to the window. He had no idea what time
it was, and there was no sun to tell him anything, but by
the general lack of activity, he could tell that it was likely mid afternoon.
He was going to have to shift back to his normal sleeping patterns pretty
soon, or he'd be turning into a night owl. It was easy to
do that when you didn't have the sun and moon cycles to guide you.
Kettinger preferred the day shift, but lately he had been burning the midnight oil.
He staggered down the stairs into the kitchen, where he made some strong
coffee. Then, feeling he owed it to himself, he also decided to
make eggs, hash browns, and bacon. While the eggs were cooking,
he picked up his phone and texted Q, feeling the need for an update.
As soon as he hits end, the phone vibrated in his hand.
What time is it, Q, He asked, It's about ten in the
morning. Jesus, I'm so off. I was sure it was afternoon.
Where the hell is everyone they've been at the hive, Q said, We've
been doing cleanup and making arrangements for the bodies. Even the guards are down
here helping us. Notify families. Where's Bellinger? I wanted to get an
update about the body's first thing, and I'd like to report on the injured.
I've been busy, boss, I haven't heard from the man. Let
me call down to the hospital and see what I can find out, Kenninger
sighed. I'm gonna eat breakfast and then get my ass into work. I'll
be there in an hour at most. I'll try to have a report in
fifteen. With that, Q was gone. Kennenger served up his breakfast and
sat down at the table to spoon it into his gullet with swigs of coffee
in between. He was starting to feel human again. He ran his hands
over his cheeks and felt the stubble there. He needed a shave. He
finished his breakfast in minutes, having been trained over the years to eat fast
to get on to the next thing and be prepared for any emergencies. He
was making his way back into the kitchen to get more coffee when his phone
rang YEP, I can't get the medical wing on the phone, Q said,
they might be busy. Check out the monitors and see what's up.
That's the other thing, Q said, with a strange tone in his voice.
The cameras in the medical wing appeared to have been disabled. Tednnger was
in the office twenty minutes later. His stubble was still firmly attached to his
face, his razor forgotten back at home. He was trying to maintain his
calm and composure. But something like this had never happened down here before.
Q stood there in his office, shuffling his weight from one foot to the
other. The man was shorter than Kettinger, but had sharp blue eyes and
dark hair. He also had a dark complexion that had more to do with
his genetic makeup than sunlight, and he was the only truly tanned person in
the hive. This made him very popular among the ladies, and Ketenger always
felt bad that most of the women in the place were already married. Q
had a knack for making understatements in his attempt to stay calm in every scenario.
He was almost unflappable. Inside, Kenninger guessed he got as worried and
nervous as anyone else, but outside he was always as cool as a cucumber.
Uh, something's wrong, Q said, in his usual understated manner.
As soon as Kenninger sat down. No shit. Q. Kettenger fiddled with
the controls on the monitors, and sure enough he got nothing but blackness from
the cameras that should have shown him the prison hospital. Kettinger had tried calling
Bellinger on the way over and got nothing. He also could get no response
at the nurses station. Kettenger looked at Q. Q stared back calmly.
What's the protocol here? Q asked, There isn't any because this has never
happened before. Kettenger replied, I guess we need to get a team together
and head down there. Jesus. I hope that something hasn't leaked out of
the mines or something and steeped into the hospital. I think the hospital's too
far away from the accident sight. Q said, thanks, Q, but
that doesn't explain what happened here. I also guessed that a gas leak would
not knock out the cameras. That leaves people tampering with shit, and if
that is going on, we have something happening here that has never happened.
Q and Ketenger stared at each other for what seemed like a long time.
It was almost telepathic. If the cameras were down and someone had sabotaged them.
Then prisoners or the medical staff or someone was doing it, and that
could only mean trouble. I'll get a team of guards, words, Q
said. We'll head down their armed to the teeth and fully armored. Thanks,
Kettinger said quietly. He did not want to think about what all of
this meant. I want normal see here again, Q. I want things
to be quiet again. I got your boss, Q said, and then
left the room. Kettenger fiddled with the controls on the monitors. Nothing.
Jen He called, give me the video from the medical labs from last night.
I want to see what happened up until the point that the monitors went
out. I'll have it for you in about five minutes, Jennifer replied.
Kenninger sat down at his desk and then spun around had take in the view.
It all looked quiet and normal from up here. Jennifer had it in
four minutes and thirty seconds. Kennenger called up the middle monitor and then shut
down the others so that the images would take up most of the wall.
Jennifer stood beside him, and Kettinger was not a feeling like he wanted to
have another set of eyes look at this they started from the beginning. Then
Ketdinger fast forwarded to the point where he knew he had last spoken to Bellinger.
On the screen, he could see nurses and orderlyes running around. He
could also see Bellinger in the middle of the room on the phone, probably
talking to Kenninger. Then Bellinger hung up the phone and stopped to talk to
the nurses, and then turned and headed back to a room near where Kenninger
knew the morgue was It all seemed very normal. The nurses all vanished at
some point, and Ketenger gathered that Bellinger had told everyone to find a bed
and get some rest. That all made sense, as this was likely to
be a busy day. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Then suddenly Bellinger
emerged from the room he had obviously chosen as his place to sleep. Ketnnger
shifted to another shot, this one showing the doors leading into the morgue.
Now Bellinger was facing him, heading towards the doors and through. Was there
someone in there, Kenninger asked out loud. I didn't see anyone go in,
Jenny replied, her voice nearly a whisper. Do we have images from
inside the morgue? Kenninger asked, those cameras have been due for repairs for
a long time now, Jennifer said, for some reason, the rather intense
cold that we have in that room causes the cameras to freak out. Since
we don't use the morg much, those cameras were put on the back burner.
The son of a bitch, Kettinger muttered, Now he was just looking
at the doors leading to the morgue. He was dying to know what was
happening behind them. He fast forwarded the image. Nothing happened for a very
long time, the time signature and the lower ride zipping up and up and
up. Then that changed. At about three in the morning, the door
suddenly moved. Kennenger slowed down the image. The doors opened a bit and
then closed. Then the door swung open again, then closed. Then finally
someone emerged. What the fuck, Kennenger said, in a breathless rush.
It was obvious from the uniform that the figure was wearing that it was one
of the trustees. However, if you were to judge by the face,
you would not be able to recognize the person. The face was looking right
into the camera. The eyes looked white and wide and dead. The face
was covered in what must have been blood, and the dead lips were pulled
back, showing two rows of sharp, nasty teeth. Blood coated those as
well, and the uniform was also covered in it down to the waist.
The skin looked like it was already decaying, and whoever it was moved with
a kind of shamble that seemed to get a bit more steady with each step.
The figure looked up now, the eyes caught an overhead light, and
a weird glow emerged from the pupils. The head cocked to the right and
then the left, as if analyzing this strange thing. Then whoever it was
began to move towards the camera behind him. The door opened again and another
person, also covered in blood, emerged from the morgue, then another,
then another. Eventually what appeared to be all ten trustees were standing in the
hallway while the one that had emerged first approached the camera. As the face
got closer, Kettenger realized, with dawning terror in his gut that he knew
who this was. It was Tristan, but he knew for certain that Tristan
had died. He had seen the body, he had touched the cold skin.
Tristan walked up to the camera and reached up a hand. Just an
instant before the camera went to static, Kettinger saw the Morge doors open again,
and another figure came visible for a fraction of a second. What was
that, he asked. He rewound the footage. He held his finger over
the pause button. When the image appeared blurry, grainy, he paused,
Is that doctor Bellinger? He asked. He looked to his right and Jennifer
had gone ghostly white. She looked like she might pass out. Yes,
she said, in a voice so tiny that Kettenger could barely hear her,
despite the fact she was only inches from his ear. What is going on?
The guards at the Hive were not guards like anywhere else. Sure,
prison guards were trained to handle everything from prison riots to unruly prisoners, but
on the surface, if you had to, you could still call in the
National Guard. There wasn't much chance of that happening down below the ground,
so the men here went through extensive combat training. You just never knew when
you might have to raise an army. Q set about reasoning that army with
help from reg We have no idea what's going on down there. Q told
the fifty men who had assembled to enter the hospital area. They were all
armored and armed to the teeth. Ketdinger right now is looking over the camera
footage to try and give us some idea. Just then, the earpiece Que
was wearing crackled. Yes, Boss, he said, Que, be very
careful. Something really weird is going on down there. Kettinger said, it
looks like the trustees that we thought were dead, well they aren't. I
don't know what this is, but they were definitely up, and it looks
like doctor Bellinger might be working with them. He looked a bit messed up,
though, so maybe he's being forced. They might have hostages with the
nursing staff and orderlies. In short, this is worst case scenario stuff here.
Q felt a shiver that was a mixture of fear and excitement to rush
through him. We might have hostages, guys, he said to the men.
It may be that the trustees we thought had died and the explosion yesterday
are still alive and staging some kind of escape attempt. We don't know what
the deal is, but no one can get through to anyone in the hospital
wing. The cameras have all been disabled. We have to be careful about
this one. The men all nodded or remained silent, but he could feel
their intensity. All of them clutched rifles that fire deadly and devastating ordinance.
If there was a firefight, it was going to be a bloodbath. Chief,
We're heading down. I have fifty of Regge's hand picked men with me.
Q said, do this carefully. See if you can make contact with
one of the trustees. See what this is about. Roger out. The
men headed at a trot towards the hospital wing. Q took the lead,
his own armor and helmet, making him sweat. He had gone through the
training too, so had Kettinger, but he was out of practice. The
men around him had to train and retrain all the time and pass rigorous fitness
standards just to keep their jobs. Q had spent too much time sitting at
a desk. The group reached the doors in the hospital wing. Almost as
soon as they got there, the smell hit them. Several of the men
gagged and backed away, covering their nose and mouth. Blood lots of blood
mixed with human feces and other human smells that indicated people had died insighed.
There was also an overarching stench just beyond the copper smell of blood, of
rod and decay. Q had never smelled anything quite so foul, okay,
Q said, Rege, you take lead, I'll come up behind you.
Show us in. Reg nodded and took point. Q got behind him.
Redge held up his hand over his head and then waved it around in a
series of motions that Q barely understood. But the men behind them all got
into parallel lines on either side of the hallway. Redge leaned forward and pushed
open the metal doors that led into the hospital. Q gasped when the door
swung open. The hospital was a disaster. Lights were hanging from the ceiling.
Some of them sputtered and spasmed, giving off sporadic light that was dazzling
in its brightness. Some of the fixtures hung from the ceiling from exposed wires
and sent electrical sparks down to the floor. It was a wonder that nothing
had caught fire. Yet as Q scanned the scene, more things became obvious,
and each of them was horrific. There were stains spread across the floors,
ceiling, and walls. In the dim light, it looked black,
but Q could tell that it was blood. There were also what appeared to
be chunks of pink meat on the floor across the nurse's desk and other places.
Q swallowed his own gorge when he realized the pink meat was human flesh,
especially intestines. Jesus, he whispered. Papers were everywhere the desk and
the walls had holes in them from what looked like fists. Clots of hair
were evident in some of the pools of blood, and Q also saw bone
and teeth. A severed arm lay not far from his right foot. People
had been torn apart in here. Should we move forward, reg asked,
From the look on the man's face, he was afraid. Q marveled at
that, as he had never seen the man show even the slightest amount of
fear before that. We need to find out what's going on, Q said,
through lips and a tongue that were too dry. Rege gave a short
nod of his head and acknowledgment, and then gave more hand signals. They
moved forward. Q nearly fell on the puddle of blood at his feet.
The smells were worse here. The doors closed behind them. Now there was
darkness silence, the smells, and the infrequent light from the sputtering fixtures.
It was immediately disorienting. They reached the first of the patient rooms to their
right, redg ducked in. Q followed. Two more guards came in right
after. They all checked the corners, the bathroom, and the closet.
There were just three beds. In the beds were horrors beyond imagining. All
three men, men who had been horribly burned in the explosion, were torn
apart. One man, the one closest to the door, held his own
intestines in his hands, but most of them fell in loops and piles on
the floor. His lower jaw was gone and one of his eyes. Q
leaned closer. The wounds looked as if someone had been chewing at his face
and stomach. What the fuck, Q muttered. He looked at Red.
Red shrugged. They moved on. They went slowly from one room to the
next. In each they found one form of horror or another. Next door
to the one with the man holding his intestines, they found pools of blood
and more piles of flesh and bone, but no bodies. In the one
across the hall from there, they found a head sitting on a nightstand,
and more red clumps that must have been organs. In the next they found
more blood, but the room empty. On and on it went, more
horror, more blood, more evidence of carnage, but they found no one
alive. They found no one to talk to. They found neither a wounded
victim or a t rusty or anyone or anything that could attempt to explain the
things they were seeing. What the hell is going on here? Q muttered,
I wish I knew, Reg replied in a whisper, this is easily
the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen. The guards were getting nervous. Q
could tell that they wanted to get out of here. Q was tempted to
call Kennenger and tell him that the polace was cleared out, but that people
were dead, but something compelled him to move on. He had to get
to the end of the hallway there was still the morgue, and the morgue
was where this had apparently started. They moved on, sweat pouring down their
heads, nervous fingers shifted on the triggers of their weapons. There was a
creaking sound from a swinging ceiling light fixture filling the air with just the proper
amount of creepiness to make everyone even more nervous. They reached the morgue doors
reg gave more hand signals. Four of them burst through. The morgue was
in disarray like the outside. The tables of instruments had been overturned, and
there was more blood all over the floors, wall tables, papers, computer
screens, and everything. Silence, stillness. Q stood up from a crouched
position and let out a sigh. Okay, where the fuck did everyone go?
He asked, what the fuck is going on around here? Did these
guys go crazy? There was a loud crash from the hallway. All of
the men jumped and whirled with their guns ready. Q held his breath more
silence than a moan, then a growl move, Q said. They poured
back out into the hall. All of them froze. The hall was full
of people. Q looked from one to the next. He saw doctor Bellinger,
his face and chest filled with blood, his lips pulled away from teeth
that, even in the dim light he could tell were tipped with sharp points.
Next to him was Tristan, the trustee, shuffling and moving, also
covered with blood. Then a nurse, one arm missing, the front of
her scrubs covered with dark blood, her head down, eyes forward, one
after another. Near the door to the hospital, a large section of the
ceiling had fallen down. Are they in the ceiling? Redg asked? What
are they? Q asked? Just then Tristan opened his mouth and let out
a scream, arm extended pointing at the guards. All of the others raised
their heads as if on cue. Oh shit, Q whispered, The dermonic
creatures charged. You've been listening to When the Night Comes Out the Hive.
Tune in next time for the Hive Part six 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.