Delta Green - All Part of the Job

[Audrik]

We picked up another player for this session. Actually, he's a returning player. He'd played Agent SETH in the beginning of the campaign. To make this work, though, we had to shift the game to Mondays. That, and given the fact the write-up is a little more than 1,000 words longer than my usual, means I'm a little late in posting.

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 2a

As he was preparing to meet Pepper at the Allen residence, Ranger Lakefield had a thought. There was animal activity at the reservoir, and it was a favorite hangout of the local teen population. While he couldn’t confirm the lights had been seen over the reservoir, all reports placed the lights in this direction. He felt a little surveillance was in order, and for an NPS Ranger, surveillance meant game cameras.

He sent Dr. Pepper a quick text before hitting the road for Nashville: Not gonna make dinner. Got a plan.

Pepper sighed. It looked like he’d be questioning the Allens on his own. Then again, there were no other cars to be seen at the Allen farmhouse. He headed up the porch stairs and knocked on the door. Maybe he should have brought something; wine, cake, a loaf of marble rye … Too late for that now. As Mrs. Allen opened the door, he could smell everything. There was fried chicken, apple pie, fresh bread, and he was pretty sure he could even smell the mashed potatoes.

Mrs. Allen took his coat and hung it by the door and asked about his partner. Pepper was sorry to say his partner had been called away at the last minute. Mrs. Allen’s story was much the same; Joseph had to work late, and Jane was out with friends. She hoped he brought his appetite because there was plenty of food for them and all those who were missing out.

Dr. Pepper was more than a little disappointed to miss an opportunity to interview Joseph and Jane, but the food was even better than he’d expected. Wanting to make the most of his time, he steered the dinner conversation as masterfully as he’d steer a riding lawnmower with a broken axle. Still, he managed to learn a few interesting items. Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and though Nancy hadn’t heard from her daughter in a few days, she wasn’t particularly worried. She wasn’t particularly worried that her husband hadn’t been home from work in a week or so. After all, it was tax time for the county. The aldermen were very busy, but soon enough, Joseph would get a break.

Mrs. Allen had seen the lights in the sky at night. The scientist, always the rational skeptic, suggested they might be aliens. She didn’t think so, however. No, they were probably helicopters. Dr. Pepper pointed out the nearest airports were Nashville and Memphis, two-hour drives in either direction. Nancy admitted she hadn’t seen helicopters during the day either, but surely helicopters were a rational explanation. To the scientist, however, this whole thing screamed “aliens.”

Also, while none of the Allen’s or Spivey’s animals had been abducted or mutilated, several of their neighbors had mentioned things. Bob Gaines a few miles down the road toward town had said there was something strange about one of his cows, but Mrs. Allen couldn’t remember just what it was. He’d mentioned it at church a few weeks ago, and so she’d only half-listened.

When they’d finished dinner, and he’d had about all the sweet tea his stomach could hold, Dr. Pepper thanked her and excused himself. Mrs. Allen put together a couple bags of leftovers for him and his partner, and he was all too glad to accept. Once in his car, he backed out of the driveway and headed down the dirt road a little bit. He turned around and parked on the shoulder within view of the Allen residence, turned the radio on and watched for anyone at all to come home.

The DJ had a good voice for radio. It wasn’t obnoxious or subdued. “All right! If you’re where I think you are, it’s probably 7:32 PM. We’ve got a request from Kelly out there in the heartland of Tennessee. Here is Avicii with Wake Me Up!”

Dr. Pepper may have just had a full meal, but the leftovers smelled great, so he decided to have a snack while he listened to the song and watched the house. The song ended, and a different DJ came on the radio. “And that was Fall Out Boy. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark, also known as Light ‘Em Up. It’s 11:43, and you should be in bed. Of course, I’m glad you’re not. Keep that dial tuned here, ‘cause after this hard break, I’m comin’ right back with some big news. Is Jay-Z a time traveler?”

Wait, what? He looked down at the clock on the dash. It sure as hell said 11:43. It was a little darker out, too, and worst of all, the chicken was cold. Screw this town with its super-strong teenagers, and its aliens, and its Murray’s Just-About-Freakin’-Everything.

Still no cars in the driveway at the Allen place, and no lights visible in the sky to the northwest. Dr. Pepper killed the radio and drove off to check the reservoir anyway. No lights from there either. It was midnight now, and there was no way he was staying at Murray’s Shut Eye, so it was back to Nashville. Just after 2:00 AM, he crawled into bed. No sooner had he set his alarm for 9:00 than he passed out.

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 2b

Unlike Pepper, Lakefield had finished his shopping with plenty of time to get some rest. He’d used his government credit card to purchase six infrared-capable game cameras and additional memory sticks. He knew his supervisor wouldn’t think twice before approving the charges, and that was if he even bothered to review the travel authorization. As long as expenditures didn’t stick out, Lakefield’s supervisor was happy to sign off. It was federal money, and under the eco-friendly Obama administration, it was a deep pool of funds for National Park Service business.

He threw his gear into the car and hit the road around 6:00. Alderman Joseph Allen should be ready for him at City Hall by the time he got there. The trip was quiet and uneventful, and when he arrived at the Waynesboro City Hall, the alderman was indeed waiting. Joseph Allen was an exhausted-looking man probably in his early 40s, and while his suit was nice at one time, it didn’t appear to have been cleaned and pressed in quite some time.

After introductions and pleasantries, Lakefield got right to business. He was investigating a possible narcotics connection to the Spivey case. Oh, the alderman assured him, Waynesboro was a small town in rural Tennessee. Teenagers might have a few beers up at the reservoir once in a while, but nothing remotely related to actual drugs.

What about the lights people have been reporting at night? Could those be drug traffickers making their drop-offs? Not likely, but if he wanted to report a crime, the sheriff would be happy to assist. Well, actually, it was the sheriff who had referred him to the alderman. In that case, no. There was nothing to worry about.

And his daughter Jane? She was Billy Ray’s girlfriend, right? But her mother hadn’t seen her in a few days. Mr. Allen yawned with a shrug. She’d turn up. She was a good kid. If there was nothing else, he really did have to get back to work. Tax time for the county, you know.

Actually, Lakefield said, if this was tax time around these parts, he might be interested in buying some land around here. It was beautiful country, after all, and the way tax season falls in Washington State, it complicates his finances. But taxes in May … that might actually be a good investment for him. The alderman agreed, but he really didn’t have time to discuss it. Fair enough. The ranger thanked him for his time and headed back out to his car. On his way out, Lakefield made a note of the fact that Joseph Allen’s car was parked under a large tree and judging by the layers of leaves, pollen, and dust, it hadn’t moved in at least a week.

He drove down to the diner and parked outside. He wasn’t hungry, but he did want to borrow their Wi-Fi. A quick look at the Waynesboro website confirmed his suspicions. Property taxes were due the first Monday of October. Sales taxes were due quarterly, so January, April, July, and October. He wasn’t seeing “middle of May” listed anywhere as a busy season. One other item of interest on the town website: The mayor was one Murray Barnes. It was the mayor’s name – his first name – on half the businesses in town. Gotta love small towns.

Right about when Lakefield was meeting with the alderman, Pepper’s phone rang. He grumbled as he pried his eyes open and tried to focus. It was just after 8:00, and he wasn’t planning to get up for another hour. He answered the phone, but he didn’t sound chipper. The person on the other end identified himself as Special Agent Curtis Atwood. SAC Derringer had attached him to the Waynesboro taskforce. He had been fully briefed on the Spivey case, and he had several gallons of Hexa … Hexafluorace … well, some clear citrus-smelling chemical solution. Evidently, it would turn some contaminant or other purple. Atwood was leaving Knoxville now and would meet Pepper and Lakefield at Waynesboro City Hall at noon. Dr. Pepper relayed the relevant information to Lakefield through text and then got dressed. If he had to be up before his alarm, maybe he could grab some breakfast first.

With his tax research done, the ranger played a hunch. If he were lucky, Jane Allen’s Facebook account and her phone would tell him where she is and where she’s been. It took only a minute, and he had it. Murray’s Shut Eye. The girl was at the motel, and she had been for a few days now. He could see the motel from the diner parking lot, so he just settled in.

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 2c

Once Dr. Pepper made it to Waynesboro, he headed for the Gaines farm. He was interested in seeing just what sort of cattle mutilation was going on. It was about 10:30, but there wasn’t any activity to be seen out in the fields. Pepper was a little surprised when Mr. Gaines answered the door. He was probably in his mid-60s or so, and while he wasn’t out plowing the fields or tending to the livestock, he at least looked the part. The farmer agreed to show Dr. Pepper his cow, Clementine.

He took the scientist out into the field and over to Clementine. He squatted down and pointed to the udder. Or rather, he pointed to a smooth, gray spot where the udder should be.

“Now, you see, this right here … this ain’t right. Now, watch this here.”

The farmer reached out and lightly touched the gray spot, and it quickly expanded to take the shape of an udder. Dr. Pepper had to take a step back and cover his mouth. “This ain’t right,” had to be the understatement of the day, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

“You wanna see what’s really strange though …”

Mr. Gaines took hold of the dangling gray bits and tugged. They shot out something that looked like milk. Pepper turned away and took slow, deep breaths as he struggled to keep his breakfast down. That wasn’t an udder. So, was that milk? If it was milk, it couldn’t possibly be safe. If it wasn’t milk, what the hell was it? The farmer agreed to let him take a bottle of the liquid, but he frowned when Dr. Pepper told him to keep Clementine away from the other cows and under no circumstances let anyone near that milk.

He was a dairy farmer. Milk was his livelihood. Since Clementine’s transformation last month, she’d begun producing more milk than ever; so much that it took every container he had to hold it all. But he never had trouble selling it at the farmer’s market every week.

Dr. Pepper’s heart skipped at least one beat. He was selling that … the stuff from that … from the retractable udder? He filled every container every week and sold it all? Oh, this was not good. This was not good at all. Without even thanking the farmer, he stumbled back to his car and called Lakefield to give him the news. The ranger took it all in stride and then told the Pepper where Jane Allen was holed up. The agents decided to relax a bit while they waited for the newest member of their task force who should be arriving within the hour.
Once Special Agent Atwood pulled up at City Hall, Lakefield and Pepper met up with him and got him up to speed on everything they hadn’t yet reported to Derringer. Up to and including udders. Atwood gave them each a garden spray bottle with the citrus-smelling solution. He’d also brought six one-gallon jugs for refills. Pepper wanted to test it out, so he sprayed the handles and trunk of Joseph Allen’s car. Not much reaction, but a few flecks of purple did appear with each spray.

The car had been parked here for quite some time, so any residue had likely been weathered. Fortunately, SA Atwood had a few tricks for popping locks. It took no time at all to open the doors on Allen’s car, and the surfaces inside produced far more purple than the outside surfaces. That meant the alderman was likely contaminated. Or Jane was, and she’d been driving his car? Maybe they both were, and that was why they seemed to be avoiding each other and home. Whatever the case, they had leads, and they had a reliable method of detecting whatever was contaminating the town, but they still had no idea what the contaminant was or where it was coming from.

The agents decided on a plan of action. Atwood would check in with the high school and take a look at attendance records for Jane Allen and Billy Ray Spivey. He’d then arrange to do an after-hours locker search with the spray. Billy Ray was obviously affected, and Jane Allen probably was, too. It was as good a guess as any that other teens in town might be as well. Lakefield was going to head to the reservoir and set up his cameras, and Pepper … well, he was hungry again, so he was going to pick a booth at the diner where he could keep an eye on the motel.

Atwood found the office at the high school and flashed his badge. That got him shuffled straight into Principal White’s office. The principal seemed happy to cooperate, but he assured Atwood there was no reason to suspect any of his students of drug use or possession. All the same, Atwood said, he’d appreciate the opportunity to search. Of course, the school would cooperate in any way it could.

Principal White’s secretary brought in the attendance records for Billy Ray and Jane. They’d both been out all last week and this week so far; since Mr. Spivey’s unfortunate accident. Neither the principal nor the secretary seemed overly concerned. They were good kids, and they’d turn back up eventually.

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 2d

Meanwhile, up at the reservoir, Ranger Lakefield spotted a bobcat drinking. Out came the rifle. He picked up a stone and threw it in the animal’s direction. It splashed close to the bobcat’s head, but the animal wasn’t startled. It slowly looked up and at the ranger before stretching and getting another drink.

Lakefield nodded grimly. It wasn’t the reaction he was hoping for, but it was the one he expected. He took aim and killed the bobcat with a single shot. He then headed around to examine it. A few sprays of the solution, and he nodded again. The cat turned purple, and so did the water in the reservoir. In fact, the water in the reservoir turned the brightest, deepest purple he’d ever seen.

He sent a quick text to the other two: It’s in the water. Don’t drink it.

Well, that didn’t sound good. Luckily for Pepper, he hadn’t touched the water in town. Though, he had been drinking all the sweet tea he could get, and that was probably made with local water. The dry heaves came fast and hard, and his stomach twisted. Whatever was contaminating this town – whatever the aliens were doing – was in him. Whatever Clementine’s udder was made of was in him. Whatever Billy Ray’s arms and legs were made of was in him. And yet … he still had an appetite. All he wanted was to get everything inside to be on the outside, but he could still really go for some more fried chicken and mashed potatoes.

Dr. Pepper sent a response: I’m compromised. I’m getting a room at the Shut Eye and informing Derringer.

It may have been a tad defeatist, but whatever. They were probably better off if he quarantined himself. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally punch a hole in someone’s chest.

Atwood took things much better; presumable because he’d only been in town an hour or so. Don’t drink the water. Fair enough.

Ranger Lakefield dragged the bobcat a little further from the water and set about rigging his game cameras. He arranged the six cameras so that each one had a clear view of at least one other. That way, he could record activity around the reservoir and also hedge against tampering. Once he’d finished with that, he headed back to the diner to meet up with Atwood.

Dr. Pepper walked across the street to Murray’s Shut Eye and stepped inside. It was well-maintained, as far as small-town motels go. The wallpaper was a bit dated, and the ceiling fan in the lobby was missing a blade, but it should work fine. The clerk behind the desk had fallen asleep and was snoring, so Pepper rang the bell. The clerk stood with a start and cleared his throat. A quick glance outside told the clerk it was day and another glance at a clock told him which part of the day it was.

“Good, ummm … Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you today?”

Dr. Pepper wasn’t in the mood for mundane interaction, so he slapped a couple bills on the counter and indicated that he’d like a room for the night. The clerk was happy to assist, and Pepper even had his choice of room number. Well, of the twelve rooms in the motel, Rooms 8, 11, and 12 were currently rented, but he had his choice of the others.

“Gimme Room 3.”

The clerk nodded and handed him the key to Room 3 before scooping up the cash. He was about to say something else, but Pepper just grumbled and stalked off down the hall. He opened the door, threw his briefcase at the big, flat, horizontal bit of the table, and looked around. He had a few samples he wanted to test with the spray; a bit of blood from Clementine, some of his own blood, the milk or milk-like substance from the retractable udder, and a water sample from … well, he hadn’t collected a water sample, but there was a sink in his room.

Cow’s blood: Purple. Check.

His blood: Not purple. Score one for the good guys, at least. It still didn’t make him feel any better.

Milk: Purple. On track so far.

Now for some water. Dr. Pepper heard a thump from the bathroom just as he was standing to collect a water sample. He drew his gun and approached cautiously. Thump. Thump, thump. It sounded like metal on metal, but muffled. He turned the knob to the bathroom door and gave it a gentle push to let it open slowly on its own.

Thump. There was something in the wall near the bathtub, and it sounded like it was hitting the pipe. The wall may have shaken a little, too, or it may have just been a trick of the shadows and his mind. But the thump was real. Okay, so screw that. He slowly and quietly closed the bathroom door. He set his gun on the counter by the sink and put a glove on his left hand before picking up the complementary plastic cup. With his ungloved hand, he turned the cold water knob, and the faucet sputtered a little before spitting out a few stray jets of water. Then something thick began forcing its way out. It looked like Clementine’s udder, but it had the consistency of pudding that had been left out overnight.

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 2e

No way in hell was he reaching past that for his gun. As a gray mass of pudding about the size of a loaf of bread oozed out of the faucet and into the sink, Dr. Pepper stepped back. About ten feet should be enough distance. Right?

Wrong. The mass leaped … or maybe shot was a better word? He didn’t really have much time for semantics, but one way or another, the mass was in the sink one moment, and it was across the room and on his face the next. He could feel it oozing into his nostrils and trying to pry his lips and eyelids open. He did his best not to panic, but all he could think of as he fumbled blindly for his phone was something along the lines of “Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! I knew it! Aliens! Xenomorph! Facehugger! Chestburster!”

He tapped his phone screen by memory and prayed he was hitting the right spots. He heard it dial, and that was good enough. He tossed the phone on the floor and used both hands to pry the mass off his face. He pushed and pulled with everything he had, and the mass flew back toward the overflowing sink. After blowing his nose to be sure it was all out, he ran for the hall and slammed the door behind him.

Dr. Pepper had to admit that while he was still alive, that whole situation was a decisive victory for the slime. The mass was now occupying the room he’d paid for in advance, and it had possession of his briefcase, phone, gun, and spray bottle. Well played, slime. Well played.

Having heard the struggle on the other end of the phone, Lakefield and Atwood rushed across the street and into the motel. Atwood was flashing his badge, and Lakefield was casually holding his shotgun at the ready. Pepper explained what he could through panicked and gasping breaths, and Atwood ordered the clerk to evacuate the building. The clerk was hesitant and pointed out that Mayor Barnes wouldn’t be happy. Atwood was insistent and pointed out he had a badge, and his partner had a shotgun. Check and mate.

The clerk led them down the hall. Pepper said his partners should go next, and he’d take the rear. Lakefield just shook his head, but Atwood was more verbal.

“No. No, no, no. Hell, no.” And just in case there was any confusion, “No.”

Pepper sighed and followed the clerk to Room 8. Then Atwood and Lakefield brought up the rear. The clerk knocked, and when the door opened, Atwood ordered the occupants to evacuate. The three men in Room 8 gathered up their belongings, mostly cameras and cases of electronics, and they complied. A brief discussion uncovered that they were a documentary film crew from New Jersey that was in town to investigate reports of UFO activity. And no, they hadn’t been drinking the water. They were beer guys.

Room 11 had a towel shoved under the door. The clerk knocked, but there was no answer. Atwood shoved the towel out of the way with his crowbar and had the clerk unlock the door. As it swung open, it was immediately apparent someone had an aversion to light. Blankets were duct taped over the windows, the lamp was on its side with the light bulb removed, and the television had been overturned with the screen down. The light switch on the wall did nothing.

Lakefield went outside, broke the windows, and tore down the blankets with his shotgun. That shed plenty of light in the room. Atwood and Pepper entered and looked around. There was a laptop on the table and a sloshing sound in the bathroom. That was more than enough for Dr. Pepper, so he stepped back into the hall.

With one hand, Atwood took the laptop, and with the other, he pointed his gun at the bathroom door. It was directly across from another door which joined Rooms 11 and 12. He covered both doors while Lakefield moved to Room 12’s window. He broke it with his shotgun and called inside.

“Come on out, Jane. We’re with the FBI, and you’ll be safe.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the door to the room opened. The girl who stepped out into the hall looked like the girl from the selfies on Jane Allen’s Facebook page, except this girl was at least six months pregnant. She wasn’t pregnant as of a week ago according to the picture she’d posted.

Pepper didn’t care. He knew what had happened. Aliens. Aliens and face-hugging slimes. This was stage two. The next stage was chest-bursting, and that wouldn’t be pretty. He stayed out of the way while Atwood escorted the girl outside. Lakefield asked her to sit on the curb for a few minutes while his team finished up inside, and then he rejoined them.

Pepper had just reclaimed his gun, briefcase, and phone. The slime had disappeared, so he had turned off the faucet and plugged the drain. There was now just the matter of the thumping pipes and the slime in Pepper’s room, and then the sloshing in the bathroom of Room 11. Lakefield asked the clerk if there was a boiler room, and the man pointed to a door near the office.

Atwood opened the door and flipped the light switch. A set of metal stairs led down to a concrete basement with at least an inch of water standing at the bottom. The behemoth of an antique boiler in the far corner was corroded, and it was leaking water and gray slime from cracks and loose joints. All concrete and metal, so torching the room wasn’t an option. Atwood turned off the light and closed the door.

“That’s a health code violation. We’re going to have to shut this place down until it’s fixed.”

The clerk didn’t seem convinced, but he shrugged and told him they could take it up with the owner. That meant Mayor Murray Barnes.

 

[Michael Silverbane]

I just wanted to drop in and say that I'm super glad that I found this story-hour, and even more so that it is being updated again. Your dry, workmanlike style of reporting is very fitting for the subject matter. I look forward to dread seeing what happens to your poor player characters next

 

[Audrik]

Thank you. I'm glad someone is enjoying it. My players are glad to be getting back to Delta Green, and I'm finding out just how much I missed doing the write-ups. I'd say the style of these write-ups is probably about 50% my personal writing style, 35% because I'm trying to capture the actual feeling around the game table, and 15% because of time constraints and word count.

 

[Wystan]

More please...

 

[Audrik]

Convergence - Session 3a

Jane Allen was visibly nervous as she sat on the curb outside the motel. She wasn’t jumpy, but her eyes darted back and forth at any movement. When Special Agent Atwood sat next to her, she inched away. When he smiled and moved to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she shrunk further still. Atwood was a Behavioral Analyst, but he didn’t need to be to realize the girl had been traumatized.

Still, traumatized or not, he needed answers. They could do it the easy way or the hard way. He started with some easy questions, and she answered the best she could while keeping a little distance. About two or three weeks ago, she’d been walking home alone from Billy Ray’s house – something she’d done dozens of times – and the next thing she knew, she was in her bed about eight hours later. She was hungry all the time after that.

Only a few days later, or maybe a week, Billy Ray was on that same road when he had missing time. It was just after Billy Ray left town that she realized her belly was growing, but it wasn’t only from all the eating. Her parents would understand, but they’d never forgive her if word got out that their unmarried daughter was pregnant.

She panicked and left the house. That’s when she met Scott Adams. He was a journalist from back east somewhere, and he was in town investigating UFO activity. Mr. Adams bought her some food at Murray’s Diner, and they talked about her missing time and the accelerated growth of her belly. He convinced her aliens were involved and offered to give her a safe place to stay. There was a room next to his at Murray’s Shut Eye, and he rented it out for her. He had told the clerk it was for equipment storage.

Atwood watched her body language intently as she related her story. She was telling the truth, or at least, she believed she was, and that was good enough. He said they needed to check on the baby, so he was going to take her to a hospital for an ultrasound. She refused. He informed her he wasn’t asking and made a grab for her arm.

Jane was unusually quick for a pregnant and traumatized young woman. She leaned out of his reach, stood, and ran. Atwood sighed. The hard way, then.

Lakefield and Pepper happened to glance out the window to see Atwood run after the girl. They thanked the clerk for his time and stepped outside. Atwood should be able to handle that on his own, so they decided it was time to meet the mayor.

City Hall was just a block or so down the street. The building was quiet except for the muffled music coming from the clerk’s earbuds. When the agents entered, the kid turned off his music and removed the earbuds. Lakefield got right to the point.

“We’re here to talk to the mayor.”

“Of course, sir. Would 8:00 AM tomorrow work for you?”

“No. We need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

“Okay, well …”

The kid glanced down at a clipboard.

“I might be able to get you in tonight around … 7:00 PM?”

That wasn’t good enough for Lakefield. The ranger started up the stairs.

“Now works for me.”

When the clerk protested and said he had standing instructions to call the sheriff if anyone interrupted the mayor and aldermen, Lakefield came back to the bottom of the stairs just long enough to toss a pair of handcuffs to Pepper.

“We’re not asking, kid.”

Using Lakefield’s handcuffs and his own, Dr. Pepper confined the clerk to his desk chair and wheeled the kid into a file room. After closing and locking the door, Pepper joined Lakefield at the top of the stairs. There was a small landing, and the door was locked. Pepper knocked, but there was no answer. He identified himself and Lakefield as FBI and demanded to speak with the mayor. A moment later, a voice on the other side of the door told them to make an appointment.

While Dr. Pepper engaged the voice in a discussion of urgency and legality, Lakefield went back downstairs and found a hefty paper cutter. The mayor had still not opened the door by the time Lakefield returned, and so the ranger bashed the knob with three solid hits from the paper cutter.

The door swung slowly open to reveal almost total darkness. The only light in the room filtered in through the slats of the window shutters and only managed to illuminate thick dust in the air. Pistol in one hand, Dr. Pepper took his flashlight in the other and shined it into the room. Both he and Lakefield immediately wished he hadn’t.

Filing cabinets lined the walls, and a large table had been shoved to one side of the room. The rest of the area was taken up by an enormous gray mass similar to the smaller one that had attacked Pepper. This mass, however, was much larger, and it had four faces. The faces all shouted.

“Get out!”