Devoid: Project 257B

Devoid: Project 257B

Published By Stanric at Smashwords

Copyright (C) 2014 Stanric

Devoid: Project 257B by Stanric

Introduction

Gardenvale is a small, quiet fishing town on the coast. One beautiful summer’s day, news that a vicious storm is approaching the town hits the headlines. Lewis, a factory worker awakes to black skies and ferocious winds, unaware of what is unfolding around him. The damage that the storm will cause is not the only danger that awaits the town of Gardenvale. Deep in the woods to the north of the town, Dr Martin Hansen has a dark, shocking secret. A secret Billy Harris, one of Dr Hansen’s finest employees, will see the terrifying, explosive, bloody beginning of. The unusual incoming storm doesn’t help matters, as it reeks havoc, cutting off and isolating the residents of the town. What’s more, the Dr’s dark, unstoppable creations that were never to see the light of day begin to seep into the town of Gardenvale and beyond.

Chapter 1 - The Storm Approaches

The alarm buzzes and disrupts Lewis deep in his slumber. The calmness of Lewis’ dream state has ended. He feels soft, delicate sheets on his rough skin and the forgiving Pillow supporting his limp head. He partially opens his eyes and stares into the blackness of his room, which is the polar opposite of the bright and welcoming den he is accustomed to. Lewis must adjust himself to this strange sight. Suddenly realising what the weather report mentioned relaxes him slightly. He slowly puts his head back on the pillow. But quickly remembers the last time he was late for work and what Mr Pettis said would happen if he was late again.

Reluctantly he drags his tired body out of bed. Lewis is only 26 but feels 60 at this moment in time. He walks over to the window and groans, I hate mornings. He slowly opens the white curtains, squints his eyes and refocuses on black skies, thunderous dark grey clouds and light rain. It was strange how black and menacing the skies were when only a light sprinkle of rain was falling. Lewis knew he should get to work before the heavens erupted and the storm went into full capacity. Suddenly a joyful and pleasing thought springs into his head and he playfully tossed around the possibility that work must be cancelled due to this impending storm. A quick, sudden smirk sits on his face. Slowly Lewis turns, puts on his socks and exits his bedroom. A loud yelp stops him in his tracks.

Lewis knows who the yelp came from, his small bull terrier named Walter who he has had for the past two years. The crying and whimpering continues from the other room, directly across from Lewis’ bedroom. Lewis walks to the door not realising he had closed the door, which he finds strange because he never shuts Walter in any room. He places a warm hand on the cold, damp handle. The door slowly opens with a creak as if it were not to have been opened again. In the corner Walter is cowering with his large fluffy blanket in his enormous and expensive bed surrounded by various toys and treats. Yes Walter was extremely spoiled. Come here boy, good boy Lewis kindly and softly whispered. Walter was certainly spooked by the incoming storm and given the fact that he had never experienced anything close to it, being spooked seems like a fair reaction. Lewis’ was relieved he was not hurt and just scared. Lewis could only admit to himself that the storm left him feeling a little uneasy.

He picked up Little Walter and carries him out of the room like Walter is his only child and the most precious thing in the world to him which obviously he is. Lewis drags himself down the creaking stairs, still exhausted and half asleep. Routinely he enters the kitchen that he has just finished upgrading and it seems like a high point in his dull and routine life. Lewis carries on with his everyday ritual, check door is still locked, check window is still locked and everything is still in place, yes Lewis indeed has Obsessive Compulsive Disorder but he would never dream of telling anybody. He feels that he has it under control and can live with the torment of constant checking. It’s locked, it is fine dammit he says with gritted teeth and simmering anger.

Lewis realises it’s frustrating and can sometimes get the better of him especially in stressful situations but he’s always been quite strong willed and refuses to accept medication to drug him up into a zombie and melt his brain. In fact Lewis would probably rather accept death than be a drugged up zombie or on a mental health ward. 5 minutes pass which has helped Lewis calm and compose him self a little. RING, RING, RING, the phone annoyingly chimes and breaks any hope of peace he might have. Damn phone Lewis exclaims. Lewis stomps over and picks up the phone. Hello he says as politely as possible Hey Lewis Replies a rough voice Hey Joe what’s up? Lewis asks knowing the same as him having the same job and all, which includes the same moron for a boss. Not much with the storm Joe says quietly Is work on for today or not? continues Joe I don’t know, I don’t think so, have a look out the window replied Lewis.

Joe terrified of losing his job asks Lewis to call Mr Pettis and ask if he wants them to come to work. Lewis also worried of losing his job and knowing how ridiculous and unfair Mr Pettis is on an hourly occasion decides that double checking would be a good idea.Well I might see you today we’ll see what Mr Pettis has to say Lewis says with a feeling of hope that Mr Pettis has sympathy and common decency left in him. OK, give me a call back Lewis, Thanks, Joe replies back. Lewis slowly puts the phone back and finds his business card with the factory number on. He picks up the phone and wants to smash it to pieces as anxiety builds up.

Doing rituals again in his head, he dials the number 4,7,5,5,6,1,3 and waits to hear if Mr Pettis picks up the receiver. The dialling tone throbs and adds to anxiety. Lewis waits after 3 rings he thinks of hanging up but his hand won’t let go of the phone or put it back on the receiver. The phone arrogantly chimes a fourth time. Lewis still won’t relinquish the phone even though he wants to, something won’t let him. A fifth chime occurs and Lewis finally pulls the phone an inch from his ear when suddenly he hears the one thing he didn’t want to hear. It was his worst nightmare. It was Mr Pettis What? he violently shouts.

Lewis realises he still has the chance to hang up but the invisible pressure slams the phone back to his weeping ear. H,H,Hello Mr Pettis, It’s Lewis, is work on today? Lewis asks like a petrified Animal. OF COURSE IT IS, YOU STUPID BOY Mr Pettis ignorantly yells, Ok Sir Lewis replies timidly. Get here on time and not a minute late and tell your moron friend Joe or you’ll both be finished and I won’t give a damn Says Mr Pettis with pure hatred, which makes no sense seeing as Lewis and Joe have never put a foot out of line in the 3 years they have worked there. They have never taken days off sick and they have rarely been late. However Mr Pettis definition of late is if you are supposed to be at work at 9am and the clock reaches 9:01am and you walk through the door you’re late even though you were technically inside the factory before 9am.

Mr Pettis slams the phone down with a thud. Lewis casually puts down the phone not shocked in the slightest by Mr Pettis’ behaviour. Lewis’s anger began to build and he started to clench his fists tightly. Why couldn’t he just tell Mr Pettis to stick his job? Mr Pettis the swine Lewis said to himself. It made him feel better and help ease the anger so Lewis reset himself. He picked the phone back up and called Joe. Hey Joe Lewis said disappointingly He damn well wants us to go in today and not to be late Lewis continued. Lewis can feel his anger building again just thinking about Mr Pettis stupid grin on his arrogant face. He wanted to grab a staple gun and turn his face into a staple mosaic. Are you kidding Lewis replied Joe in a shocked tone. I’ll see you at the pit, bye exclaimed Lewis. See you Lewis Joe muttered from a distant place. The rain continued to get heavier, the winds gained strength and the skies looked more menacing by the minute. Lewis realised that he had to go to work or lose his job and losing his job was out of the question. Lewis grabbed a piece of paper from a notepad and wrote a small list of items that he would take with him. The trip was about 3 miles and took about 10 minutes. However, his anxiety and paranoia were in overdrive.

On the list Lewis wrote flashlight, multi-tool, blanket, waterproof boots, crow bar. The crow bar was for protection more than anything else. Suddenly he heard a weak cry from under the kitchen table. It was Walter in his other bed that was under the table with more of his toys and treats. Lewis reassured Walter and petted him with affection. Lewis got Walters bowls from the cupboard and filled a bowl with dog food, one with chicken, another with various treats and finally a large bowl of cold water. Lewis left him more than needed but just in case he came in late or could not get back that day. His worries and anxiety are coming back and he begins to imagine himself lying in a ditch or drowning.

Lewis tries to block out the nightmarish thoughts with more peaceful and logical ones. Lewis reminds himself that he’ll stick to 20 mph max and that the chances of a flood are very unlikely due to the size and amount of trees in Gardenvale and the amount of water would have to be immense to flood the town. Lewis realises he must get to work and all his worrying is going to make him late. He pours himself some cereal. After he is done he doesn’t have time to clean the bowl and instead leaves it in the sink. He walks quickly to the bathroom and brushes his teeth he puts the paste on the hard, coarse tooth brush and begins to brush. He has been meaning to use oil to clean his teeth before brushing them but either doesn’t have time or is too tired and can’t be bothered after work. He carries on brushing but everything feels like it’s taking too long and he is moving in slow motion. He spits the toothpaste out in anger and knows it must be anxiety and worries about being late playing games with his brain.

Lewis climbs into his thick, smelly overalls and puts on his heavy, cumbersome, red and black steel toecap boots, another thing that makes Lewis mad. Why can’t I just wear my normal shoes? He says angrily in his head. THUD, THUD, THUD. It’s coming from the roof Lewis’ heart skipped a beat. He slowly opens the bathroom window and realises that it has began to hail. Never had Lewis witnessed hail this large or dense. Again it was back to worrying again. Out of the corner of his eye he sees someone rush past the side of the fence. Lewis does not move. It sounded like an animal panting and the footsteps seemed heavy and sinister. Normally he would have gone out and investigated in case an animal or neighbour needed help, but it was getting darker and darker outside. It seemed more like 9pm instead of 9am. Lewis cowardly glanced back out of the window, nothing was there and the sound of the dark footsteps had passed.

The only thing that stood in the garden was the shed. Oh no Lewis whispered He had forgotten to get his multi-tool and crowbar from the shed, he glanced down at his watch. 8.50am it signalled. Getting to work for 9am is looking rather impossible now. Rushing from the room, Lewis opens the back door and is hit by a mighty gust of wind and an evil chill that passes through his warm body. He takes a deep breath and rushes to the shed. The wicked coldness is running up his body beginning at his feet and slowly moving up to his knees. He grabs the icy lock and turns the fragile key, careful not to snap the key.

The lock relinquishes its grasp, so he opens the creaking door carefully, afraid of attracting what he had saw earlier. The coldness had now possessed his hips and lower body. He grabs the smooth multi-tool from a small toolbox and catches a glance of the blue, friendly looking crowbar. He searches the shed to see if he needs anything else but something is pulling him back and forcing him to leave. Thoughts of Mr Pettis screaming at him pour into his mind. Now with the cold creeping further up his body and dampness entering the equation he tries to close the shed door as quietly as possible and put the lock back in place, but his hands fail so he fumbles with the lock and key. Is it the cold taking grip of his hands with icy painful force or is it the images of Mr Pettis screaming at him?

His anger starts to break through the coldness and he slams the lock into place and he doesn’t give a damn if the animal or drunk he heard earlier comes back. STUPID, DAMN LOCK! he screams. The rain gains more and more force, Lewis’ overalls are soaked now and his jet black hair soaking wet send droplets dripping down his face, angering him further. Without warning a sudden and chilling feeling crashes into him. Is someone watching me? He questions. Is it his neighbour Roger or a stray animal, perhaps the drunk has came back? Maybe it was none of those and was something more sinister. Lewis cowardly turns around and stares down the narrow path with the slightly overgrown grass to either side, he sees nothing yet knows something is there. What is it? He slowly walks down the path with his eyes moving from side to side and up and down. He quickly picks up pace and nears the back door. He gets closer, when he feels something following him and creeping closer and closer. He grabs the heavy handle and slams the door, throwing his full weight on to it then instantly locks both locks.

The small window by the side of the door is inviting and tempts him. Gathering courage he peers through the window, looking from every angle and finds nothing. Was it all in his head? Was it just the storm? He looks down and pulls his soaking blue overall sleeve up to look at his watch. It reads 8.55am. So now he is going to be late. However, he does not care anymore, he’s just relieved that something or someone has not eaten him alive or murdered him in his own back garden. He rushes back into the kitchen, makes sure Walter is comfortable and that he has everything he needs. He opens the cupboard under the sink and pulls out a small toolbox then puts his multi-tool in it. It also has a few screwdrivers, a hammer, two small torches, and some odd drill pieces in. He places it next to the door with the crow bar and his keys on top, then grabs his waterproof jacket puts his hood up and prepares himself for war. It’s Lewis v the storm, Lewis v the thing in the garden, Lewis v anxiety, Lewis v OCD, Lewis v Mr Pettis.

He peers down the small, narrow passageway one last time, thinking and worrying about Walter yet again. He reluctantly picks up his keys and toolbox then opens the floodgates. The storm has become more vicious in a short space of time. He places the toolbox down outside and picks his crow bar up from inside and places it on the small step outside his door, then prepares himself for the next stage of the battle, locking his front door. He insists on having wooden doors because he believes they are stronger and harder to break into. The door is large and unlike the back door that has solid wood and no glass. The front door has a small piece of reinforced glass at the top due to this Lewis put three locks on instead of two for peace of mind. He makes sure to close the door firmly and continues to put each of his three brittle keys in each of the corresponding locks. After each lock has been secured he lets out a small sigh of relief.

In that first confrontation with OCD, all else had become second priority. Someone could have broken into his 4x4 and drove off in it, if it wasn’t for all the checking Lewis reminds himself. The rituals hound and nothing breaks the dedication. If the door wasn’t locked, Walter may get out or something may get in and hurt him. Lewis steps back and makes sure all the windows are shut and checks the door again. He slowly turns and all of his senses return to full capacity. He embraces the smell of rain water washing away the leaves that have fallen from the apple tree at the bottom of the garden and the chilling wind stinging his face. The icy cold bites his innocent lips as darkness tries to suck him into a lifeless void. He stares down the driveway at his dark green 4x4, which he bought of Bill Harrison who he knew from his previous job, working at a bait and tackle shop at the riverside. It’s about 7 years old and Lewis has had it for 3 years and never had a single problem with it so knows he can rely on it.

He looks at its outline in the darkness. It seems that the sky has lightened a little, but the rain continues to pour. It is some relief that he can see a little better outside and all odds are not stacked against him as first thought. He rushes to the car and pulls open the back door. The handle feels familiar and friendly in a way. It feels like a piece of normality in the threat of the storm. He puts the tool box and crowbar on the back seat, shuts the door with a thud. It resonates and seems like the only sound for miles. He pauses and listens, no cars, no talking, no radios. He stares over at his neighbour Roger Smiths house to the left. No sound, no lights, no life.

The same sight could be witnessed over the road. There was no sign of Melissa James or her small son. Neither were seen or heard. However Lewis realised that Roger had just lost his job at a security firm and that the school must be closed therefore neither has any reason to be up early especially in a storm like this. In fact Lewis envies them and wishes he didn’t have to go to work today. He looks back into his car, the rain wetting the seat and beginning to form a small puddle below it. Lewis quickly gets into his car and slams the door in frustration. He wipes the blinding condensation from the window with a rag and looks down, pulling his jacket sleeve up. It’s 9.02am.

Chapter 2-The Area 51 of Gardenvale

Earlier that morning at 7.15am, Dr Martin Hansen arrived at his research lab to the north of Gardenvale. The Facility was grand and ominous. Grey walls everywhere with tubes, warning and hazardous signs like tattoos covering a corpse. The building was approximately a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide with 3 floors. Each floor had its own label. The first floor labelled ‘research’ the second ‘development’ and the third labelled testing.

The facility eerily sat surrounded by thick forest with a long dirt road about half a mile long before connecting to the winding country roads of Gardenvale. Dr Hansen remains in his car at the main gate. Jim Herring the security guard immediately opens the gate without question. Jim is 30 years old and has worked at Dr Hansen’s guard post for 5 years. He knows not to anger Dr Hansen, he has never spoken to him, shook hands or even said good morning to him. He just opens and closes the gate and that’s where Jim Herring wants to leave it. Jim actually has quite a friendly and cheerful face, long shaggy blond hair, bright green eyes and weighs about three times Dr Hansen. Jim just keeps his head lowered, his stocky build and large frame shadowing over Hansen. Dr Hansen proceeds to drive through the gate and lazily gives Jim his weak daily wave. Jim cowardly waves back, hoping that Hansen will not stop or get out of the car.

He just keeps repeating please just keep going. Don’t get out over and over in his head. A cold, suppressed feeling comes over him. It happens most days, coincidently whenever Jim has to come in close quarters with Hansen. The sense of evil is overpowering as Hansen casually drives down the long sterile dirt road. As Hansen approaches the facility, Mark Ruperts slowly approaches the dirt road from the left. Mark is quite a small man weighing about 140lbs and standing about 5ft 8ins. His small beady, brown eyes catch Hansen’s eyes. His small squinty nose and rosy red lips appear out of context with the sly and unpredictable face. He’s wearing old work jeans splattered in a variety of colours of paint with the backside covered with mud where he has wiped muddy hands after work. His chequered shirt buttoned half way and his stained plain white T-shirt underneath seem perfectly at home with the sinister demeanour. A filthy pair of old leather boots that seem older than him add to the eye sore, as does long curly liquid black hair that seems as though it has never been washed. Dr Hansen gives Mark a slight wave.

Mark returns the wave with a wink and proceeds to spit out a large lump of tobacco as a personal gesture in saying good morning Dr Hansen. Dr Hansen stresses the importance of his security and the upkeep of the various shrubs and bushes on the facility grounds. He likes the trees dense and the surroundings to be inviting and welcoming. Nobody would expect anything sinister going on here. However, despite Dr Hansen’s best attempts of hiding or misleading people about the goings on in the facility. There is no hiding the darkest of secrets and happenings when the town is notorious for calling out conspiracy theories.

The town has a fascination with Area 51, Yeti, Lockness Monster Tales and also the regular UFO sighting the town is known for reporting. Therefore Gardenville have always got a present radar on Hansen’s facility and the experiments that go on inside. An example of Hansen’s wickedness was exposed by the town conspiracy team, The Gardenville Truth Squad. They exposed the labs by infiltrating inside dressed as lab assistants. They recorded the footage that they obtained in the brief minutes they had, the footage contained extreme animal cruelty which is too horrific to describe. A small fine was the only punishment for Hansen as he proclaimed no knowledge of the cruelty. Justice was not served for the evil vindictive Hansen.

Hatred had thus stemmed from the Gardenvale Community to Hansen and his workers. It was merely a fly in the ointment for Hansen, he couldn’t give a damn what the town thought of him after the information got out. However he does care about what the community thinks of his research. His image has attempted to have been resurrected by the charity work he has done throughout the town and the donations for various animal and nature trusts he has given. Nevertheless, he is always going to be a poisonous Chocolate Bar. He may look pleasant, calm and welcoming but townsfolk know of the hatred and greed that lurks beneath the surface. The long, dark menacing car pulls into the space with a post reading Dr Martin Hansen like a suicide pill being swallowed by an unfortunate soul. The roar of the engine dies, the devil sits in the black shell as rain hammers off the windscreen.How wonderful the cold, repulsive voice cheerfully responds. The door slowly clicks open and jet black shoes, with serpent patterns etched on either side with laces neatly tied mirroring one another like twins steps out. The droplets of rain begin tapping on the shoes and run down the sides like tears.

The serpents appear to be swimming on either side now. The frozen, pale hand reaches up and grabs the top of the door with the other hand feebly pushing off from the bottom in desperation. The scarecrow finally rises from the seat, his immaculate, spotless white shirt glowing in the greyness of the storm and his thoughtless blue tie tied so tight it’s hard to believe he can still breath or at the least feel comfortable. The long dark coat placed over his aging body. Was he Count Dracula of Gardenvale? Or at least trying to be? The figure stood 6ft tall and about a foot wide. Cold x-ray blue eyes with small glasses gently positioned on rancid face observed theatrically. Sparse grey hair carefully brushed back cruelly highlighted the beak stuck on the centre of his wrinkled face while thin grey lips and droopy eyes completed the nightmare.

Hansen pulls out his brief case of death from behind the seat and gently closes the heavy door. The rain continues to gain strength while the creepy figure briskly walks through the small car park and enters the main reception area. G g g good morning Dr Hansen the shy but friendly receptionist whimpers at the unsavoury figure. He does not reply, just smirks and gives his trademark lazy wave. To which the receptionist replies with an uneasy smile. The reception desk is positioned to the left. It connects to a large main area with numerous doors. A living nightmare in which you must pick a door to save your life, if you choose the wrong door anything can happen. In reality the doors were dull and brown with rooms 1, 2, 3a and the like.

Two main elevators sit directly centre of the main area. Hansen enters the elevator with the young Billy Hester. Hello Sir He stutters. Good morning boy he replies abruptly. Billy runs his hands nervously through perfectly brushed, short blond hair as his kind brown eyes hit the floor while praying for the elevator doors to open. Hanson observes the smart uniform, clean and textbook, bright white neatly buttoned lab jacket with blood red tie tucked into shirt. Glad to see you could make it, with the impending storm and all playfully says Hansen. Yes Sir, I’m ready sir Answers Billy awkwardly. What did Dr Hansen expect Billy has not missed one day of work in the two years he has worked for him.You’re one of my top subjects uncharacteristically chuckles Hansen. Yes sir replies Billy like a remote controlled robot. Billy continues to pray that the door would open. Nearly there Hansen continues to chuckle.

For a building with three floors it is taking an eternity for the lift to reach the top floor. The elevator seems like a grand hall to Billy now, he starts to sweat profusely. His smart, intellectual glasses begin to fog slightly and he begins to feel his cheeks redden. Suddenly the light for the third floor flashes and with a seconds pause the lift doors squeak open. It feels like they are stepping out onto the moon instead of a place on earth. To the left and right are large, completely white corridors with white doors, each with a bold number and letter branded on each one. A large water dispenser sits to the right, which you could probably drink straight from the nozzle. There’s probably not one single germ alive in the building.

The plastic, artificial air hits Billy like an uppercut from a mma fighter which he should be used to by now. Both men slowly walk out of the elevator