It Ate Everything
3/22/08

1

“You don’t look so hot, Sam,” Sheila the security guard said. The truth was, Sam Forbes didn’t feel so hot either, not since Wednesday, at least. Yes, it must have been Wednesday. That was the day they had the accident at the plant. Sam was sure that was just a coincidence.

“I’m alright, Sheila,” Sam replied with a weak smile. He took his ID card out of his jacket pocket and waved it at her, before sauntering over to the elevators. As he reached for the “up” button, he felt a sneeze coming on, and quickly fished a crumpled tissue out of his sleeve. The sneeze came in a powerful burst which shook Sam’s entire body and lurched him forward into a closed elevator door. The sound echoed throughout the lobby.

“Bless you!” Called the new receptionist. She was small and mousey with large red eyeglasses and a pencil sticking out of her hair. Sam couldn’t remember her name.

The elevator dinged and Sam fell through the open doors and onto the thin plaid carpet on the floor. He groaned.

“Whoa!” Came an amused voice from above him. “You alright there, Sammy?” It was Dean from Accounting. Sam coughed and slowly lifted himself up. Dean did not offer to help.

“Got a meeting with ol’ Frankie?” Dean chuckled, slapping Sam on the back. Sam coughed again, covering his mouth with the soiled tissue from his sleeve.

“Hey, you don’t look so hot, Sammy,” Dean remarked. “You should try and catch a little shut eye under the conference table before the meeting.” He guffawed and left when the elevator reached the second floor.

“I’m fine,” Sam murmured, as the doors closed behind Dean.

The truth was he wasn’t fine, but Sam knew better than to cancel a meeting with Frank Reardon. Not even puking six times in a subway station john was a good enough excuse. Coughing up blood wouldn’t even excuse him, he thought, examining the red dots now covering his worn tissue.

The elevator had stopped moving. Sam looked up at the panel of shiny plastic buttons. Through his glazed eyes they looked like sparkling crystals. It struck him that at least one should have been lit up.

Sam blinked at the buttons. He could not read the numbers, so he counted up from the bottom, “One.. two.. three.. four.. five…” He pressed the button that was probably five. His stomach made a noise like bowling pins falling down.

The elevator doors opened at the fifth floor and Sam stumbled out. He could find his way to conference room 5-C even with his blurred vision. He’d been there so many times over his seventeen years with DPT International that he could probably find his way there blindfolded.

Sam passed a young couple in the hallway. They spoke to each other in hushed voices. “Rough day, buddy?” The young man asked, at which the young woman giggled shrilly.

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but he belched instead. It was a long, loud, wet belch that was clearly in stiff competition with his lobby sneeze for the title of Most Disruptive Bodily Function of the Year.

The young couple stopped and stared at him with expressions of shock mixed with confusion and sprinkled with embarrassment. Sam clapped a hand over his mouth and muttered “excuse me” though his fingers. The young couple hurried away from him.

Conference room 5-C was empty when Sam arrived; not even Frank Reardon was there. Sam studied his wrist watch. He was forty-five minutes early.

The words of Dean from Accounting echoed in Sam’s head: “..Catch a little shut eye under the conference table, guffaw, guffaw…” Sam collapsed onto one of the high-backed leather chairs that surrounded the table. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. His stomach growled again.

2

The creature had eased slowly out of Sam Forbes’ burst stomach like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube. It was still quite small, although it had nearly tripled in size within the last twenty minutes. Presently it was about the size of a golden retriever, but it looked more like a giant blowfish with legs.

Its bloated body was covered in gray scales, which writhed and wriggled, as if each individual scale were a separate being with its own mind and will. Its short, stubby legs ended in cat-like paws which sprouted eagle-like talons. Its puffy green lips enclosed long, razor-sharp teeth.

Several of the high-backed leather chairs now lay on the floor in clumps of stuffing and plastic fragments. The creature had already worked its way through them, as well as a corner of the long wooden conference table and all of the papers that had been strewn across it. Now the creature was perched on the table, gnawing on the limp, rubbery left arm of Sam Forbes.

Sam’s lifeless body lay splayed out on a chair. His peaceful expression almost made it appear as if he were still only sleeping, but his stomach proved otherwise. His midsection had been reduced to a gaping black hole from which gray smoke still drifted in little puffs, as if something inside were smoking a cigarette. Dark red blood coated his crisp white shirt, and was splattered over his tweed jacket. The end of his plaid tie was torn and frayed, and smeared with the creature’s milky drool. Few of Sam’s body fragments remained on the faded blue carpet and the slick, shiny surface of the conference table. The creature had snacked on them immediately.

The beast tugged at Sam’s forearm with its needle-like teeth until it tore off at the elbow. As it chewed and slurped, its body grew. Its stubby legs grew longer, its round body expanded, and its shimmery gray scales lengthened, groping out in every direction as they shook and squirmed. The creature grew until the conference table collapsed into a splintered scrap heap under its girth.

3

Frank Reardon had had it with the noisy construction on the fifth floor. He’d complained to Building Services on numerous occasions, but those incompetent Neanderthals had ignored him. Now, with loud crashing and banging coming from the very conference room in which he held his bi-monthly meetings, it appeared Frank would have to take matters into his own hands.

Another loud crack came as Frank made his way down the fifth floor corridor to conference room 5-C. Frank’s pace quickened until he was almost running. No one was going to ruin one of his bi-monthly meetings, not if he could help it.

Frank shoved open the conference room door and dashed in shouting, “You useless inbred ignoramuses! This is the last stra…” He trailed off when he caught sight of the post-apocalyptic wreckage that was once his precious conference room.

“St.. st…” Frank stammered. His face turned a sickly greenish shade as he surveyed the damage. His stately conference table had been reduced to a pile of broken wooden bits on the floor, and his sophisticated high-backed leather chairs were nothing but fabric strips and plastic chunks. Frank knelt down and picked up what used to be an executive leather-bound portfolio embossed with the company logo, but was now only a torn scrap of leather bearing the letters “DP.”

A peculiar crunching sound snapped Frank out of his trance. He looked up from the conference room ruins to see the blowfish-like creature, now almost six feet tall, biting down on the clean white bone of Sam Forbes’ leg.

Frank froze and blinked his eyes behind his stylish wire-rimmed glasses. The creature seemed oblivious to his presence. It slurped down the rest of the leg and ground it up with its gleaming sharp teeth. Then it grew. Its body lengthened and expanded before Frank Reardon’s disbelieving eyes. Its shiny scales stretched, its claws extended, and even its teeth grew until its puffy lips could scarcely contain them.

As the creature grew taller, Frank shrunk lower, until he was crouching timidly behind the pile of wood scraps that was once his beloved conference table. The creature swallowed loudly and turned its bloodshot yellow eyes on Frank.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Frank croaked. “I’ll have every last one of you fired! I’m a vice president!”

The creature parted its green lips, bearing its long, pointed teeth, and growled. The sound was like a malfunctioning coffee maker in an echo chamber. Frank seized a plank of wood from the remains of his conference table and brandished it at the beast. “Go away, whatever you are!” He shrieked, waving the plank back and forth. The creature’s yellow eyes followed it. Its growling grew louder.

“You heard me! Get out! Go back to your buddies in Building Services!” Frank brought the plank down on the creature’s head with a loud whap. It blinked and opened its large mouth, emitting a scraping noise like heavy furniture being dragged across a hardwood floor.

Frank struck the beast again, and in an instant it was on him. Frank’s head disappeared into the beast’s great mouth. Its needle-like teeth sank into his neck and shoulders, and blood oozed out over his gray power suit.

Frank’s body jerked feebly a few times before falling limp. The creature bit down again, crushing Frank’s torso, then his legs, until all that remained of Frank Reardon was one impeccably-shined black shoe.

The creature grew until its head hit the ceiling, crumbling a few odd ceiling tiles. Its teeth parted and it roared like a bear crossed with an elephant. The sound made the walls of the conference room shake, sending a few discount inspirational prints crashing to the floor. The creature slammed one of its hubcap-sized paws down on a photo of a rowing team on the Delaware River, which proclaimed that “Teamwork makes everything flow.”

The beast stormed across the conference room faster and louder than Frank Reardon ever had en route to one of his world-famous bi-monthly meetings. It crashed through the double doors and out onto the partially-remodeled fifth floor.

4

The free coffee from the fifth floor machine was sub-standard at best, but it packed enough caffeine to sail anyone through the “three o’clock slump” with one cup. It was also a decent excuse for an unscheduled break, which is why Joe and Steve of J & S Contracting had been standing over it, sipping from Styrofoam cups for the last half hour. In a few minutes they would resume their demolition of a wall in the men’s bathroom, just in time to disrupt Frank Reardon’s bi-monthly meeting.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face,” Steve laughed, adding a third packet of sugar to his bitter coffee. “That vein in his forehead’ll burst this time for sure!”

Joe chortled and slapped his denim-shrouded thigh. “I can see him now,” he said, putting his styrofoam cup down on the counter. He swung his arms and scrunched up his face in a pretty accurate Frank Reardon impersonation, “Stop that noise right now, you ruffians! I’ll have your jobs! I’m a vice president! Blah blah blah!”

Steve laughed and gagged on his coffee, spraying some of the grayish-brown liquid onto the floor, sprinkling Joe’s Timberland work boots. A loud crash interrupted Steve’s laughter, “What the…?”

Joe stopped laughing as a second crash rang through the fifth floor corridor. “Shoot, Steve,” Joe said quietly, “That wall’s knockin’ itself down!”

The two men burst out laughing again, but their laughter abruptly ceased when the wall behind them exploded, sending a wave of chalky plaster, wood, and colorful wiring over the coffee machine and onto the beige tile floor. Steve ducked and Joe dove under the small round table in front of him, his work boots protruding comically from beneath it.

Joe stood up too quickly and slammed his head against the underside of the table. Grumbling expletives under his breath, he crawled out backward and turned to examine the wreckage. Dust clouded his vision and entered his mouth when he breathed in, making him cough.

“Alright, Joe?” Steve called, standing and brushing off his coveralls. Joe coughed again and waved a hand through the settling dust. He leaned forward and stared into the jagged black hole in the wall. Two glowing yellow eyes stared back at him.

“Is it Reardon?” Steve’s voice asked from behind Joe. Joe’s mouth dropped open, letting in a fresh cloud of dust. He shook his head slowly and pointed into the blackness.

“Joe?” Steve called again. He squinted his eyes against the dust clouds and could just make out Joe’s burly frame, silhouetted against the dark hole in the wall. Then suddenly Joe was gone, and there was only darkness. Gruesome crunching sounds came from the large black hole. Steve stepped closer. “That you, Reardon?” He asked of the emptiness.

Another sound came from the hole, a loud rumbling sound that shook a few more plaster chips loose, peppering Steve’s graying brown hair. Steve gulped. “Rear—” was all he could say before the beast descended on him. Its bulging green lips clamped around Steve’s head and shoulders, lifting his flailing body from the ground and swinging it back and forth, like a dog with a fresh bone. A few seconds later, the monster had devoured all but one blood-stained work boot.

The creature emerged from the hole in the wall twice as large as it had been before it had slurped down the two construction workers. It turned on its paws and crashed through the door to the fifth floor stairwell.

5

Clarissa didn’t think much of the loud noises coming from the hallway. The building had been under construction since she’d started working at DPT eight months before. Hammering and drilling went on all day long, making it difficult for her to get any work done. Not that she’d been trying to get any work done, since she’d met Brian.

Brian was a temp like Clarissa, and he began working at DPT around the same time she had. Their desks were beside each other, and the pair spent most of their time in the office making small talk and grinning at each other over their cubicle walls.

The smashing sounds had started that morning, after Clarissa and Brian came down from the fifth floor, where they’d met with some people in Web Development. Now it was three hours later, and the racket seemed to be getting closer.

“I can’t take this,” came Brian’s voice from his cube. He stood up and his grinning face appeared over the wall. “Let’s go to lunch.”

Clarissa beamed back, flicking a lock of dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. “’K,” she said dumbly.

Brian flashed her his even white teeth and stepped around the wall to lean against her desk. “Cheesesteak?” He asked, picking up a troll doll from Clarissa’s desk and smoothing its hot pink hair.

Clarissa pouted, “I can’t eat that stuff. I’m watching my figure.” She ran a hand down her waist suggestively.

“Nah, you look great,” said Brian, without looking up. “Have a cheesesteak. My treat.”

Clarissa giggled and twirled her hair around one expertly-manicured finger, “Thanks.” She resolved to take a few bites of the greasy, fattening sandwich to make him happy, then chuck the rest.

Brian glanced at Clarissa’s computer screen. “Come on, forget that junk. Let’s go.” He put the troll down and headed for the corridor. Clarissa grabbed her tiny leather purse and hurried after him. The smashing sounds were much louder in the corridor, as if they were only one floor above.

“Are they working on the third floor too?” Clarissa asked, staring up at the ceiling. A particularly loud bump sent a handful of dust down onto her shoulder. Brian casually brushed it off and shrugged. Electricity surged through Clarissa’s body at his touch. Their eyes locked for one bright moment, and she leaned closer to him, bracing herself for—

“Come on, I’m hungry.” Brian turned sharply toward the elevators. This vendor on seventh makes the best cheesesteaks. Perfect cheese distribution.. are you coming?” Clarissa nodded and slowly followed him onto an elevator.

“The rolls are never soggy,” he continued.

“Sounds great,” Clarissa sighed.

Brian pressed the button for the first floor, and the elevator sank slowly downward. The dome light in the ceiling flickered, filling Clarissa with the hope that the two of them would be stuck in the elevator together for the rest of the day. She stole a glance at Brian, who was drumming on his gray Dockers with a pen, and humming a tune Clarissa didn’t recognize. She smiled beatifically at him, but he did not return her gaze.

The elevator shook suddenly, and the dome light turned completely off, filling the car with darkness. Clarissa gasped and clung to Brian’s arm. “Oh no, I hope we don’t get stuck in here!” She lied.

The elevator dinged and the doors flew open onto the lobby. “No sweat, babe,” said Brian, shaking off Clarissa’s grip and stepping toward the glass-paneled front doors. He turned his head to flash her those pearly-white teeth again, “Coming?” The word had barely escaped his lips when he was engulfed in slimy gray scales from head to toe.

“Brian?” Clarissa asked weakly. The creature turned its bloodshot yellow eyes on her, bearing its sharp, pointy teeth. Clarissa opened her mouth to scream, but only managed a raspy, coughing sound.

The beast lunged forward, opening its jaws, blood and cloudy saliva dripping from its swollen green lips. Clarissa stumbled backward, landing heavily on the threadbare carpet.

“Take that, you overgrown blowfish!” Came a muffled voice from behind the creature’s bloated body. The beast roared and thrashed, and turned to reveal Sheila the security guard, wearing one black high-heeled shoe and using the other to beat the monster’s scaly hide. “Run!” She screamed.

Clarissa scrambled up from the floor and pushed past the creature, feeling its writhing scales brush against the bare flesh of her right arm. Its girth was blocking the entrance, so Clarissa leapt behind the reception desk. She peered out over the marble desktop at the beast, which was snapping angrily at Sheila.

A hand grasped Clarissa’s shoulder and she jumped. “It’s OK, said a small voice from behind her. “It’s me, Janet.”

Clarissa stared blankly at the stone-faced, mousey young woman beside her. Janet sighed, “The new receptionist?”

Realization dawned and Clarissa nodded briskly. She turned back to Sheila and the creature. The creature was bearing down on Sheila, who was now swatting at it with her clipboard. Somewhere behind Clarissa, Janet was still talking.

“I called nine-one-one,” Janet said softly, “but they didn’t believe me. I can hardly believe it myself.” She laughed with a mixture of fear and bitterness.

“It ate Brian!” Clarissa suddenly gasped, turning her wild eyes on Janet.

“Was he your boyfriend?” Janet asked, her stony expression unchanging.

“No,” said Clarissa sadly. Tears began to well up in her eyes. She prepared herself to break down and sob into Janet’s cashmere sweater, but Sheila’s screams stopped her.

Janet’s brown eyes grew wide behind her big red glasses. The two women sat motionless, staring helplessly at each other, while the security guard screamed in agony on the other side of the room. Neither of them made a move to help.

The screams were soon replaced by repulsive crunching sounds, as the creature gobbled up Sheila’s body, leaving only the single high-heeled shoe she’d been wearing.

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Clarissa whispered with rising panic in her voice.

“How?” Janet asked calmly. “It’s blocking the door. We’re trapped.” She reached under the desk and pulled out an economy-sized bottle of aspirin.

“What are you doing?” Clarissa almost screamed.

“Stress always gives me a headache,” Janet replied. Her shaky hands fumbled with the cap. “These damn things,” she grumbled under her breath.

Clarissa chanced a look around the side of the desk. Sheila’s shoe lay in a puddle of blood beside the security guard’s podium. A trail of enormous bloody paw prints led away from the puddle. The beast was nowhere to be found. “It’s gone!” Clarissa breathed.

Janet looked up from her still unopened aspirin bottle. “You sure?” She whispered.

“I don’t see it anywhere,” Clarissa replied, her eyes focused on the front doors. “We have to make a run for it.”

“OK, just a minute,” Janet mumbled. She shook the aspirin bottle angrily, rattling the pills inside.

Clarissa turned to shush her, and found herself draped in a huge dark shadow. She lifted her head slowly, and the beast’s yellow eyes met hers. “J-J-Jan…” She stuttered.

Janet continued to struggle with the aspirin bottle, seemingly oblivious to the ghastly creature looming over her, licking its puffy green lips.

Clarissa leaned back on her hands and crawled away, resembling a big blonde crab in business casual attire. “Jan-Jan…” She tried again, pointing over Janet’s head at the beast. “Jan-Janet!”

The monster opened its mouth and murky drool dripped down its round face. It narrowed its eyes and stared hungrily down at Janet.

“Oh forget it!” Janet said finally. In one swift motion, she hurled the bottle of aspirin over her shoulder and straight into the creature’s gaping mouth. It snapped its jaws shut with a loud crunch, which finally caught Janet’s attention. She jumped and scurried to the other end of the long reception desk, where Clarissa was still cowering.

The beast made an odd coughing sound, and brown foam formed at the corners of its mouth. Its eyes glazed over and rolled backward. Its writhing scales pointed straight out like spikes on a cactus. Janet and Clarissa huddled under the desk, watching in horror and disgust.

White steam began to rise from the creature’s mouth, and its head swayed from side to side like a tree branch on a windy day. Finally, it went down. It fell on its side and landed so hard that it shook the marble-topped desk and cracked the wooden floorboards. A computer mouse fell from the desk and swung back and forth on its cable like a pendulum. A glass vase shattered, spraying blue glass shards over the desk and the floor.

The creature let out one last low growl, then fell still, leaving the lobby silent except for Clarissa and Janet’s heavy breathing. The two women stared at the gigantic corpse of the beast in silence. The phone on the desk rang and Clarissa jumped. Neither of them moved to answer it.

At last, Janet turned to Clarissa. Blue glass shards covered her hair and her sweater, and her glasses were askew on her face. “They say it upsets your stomach,” she said, “but I had no idea.”

Clarissa blinked. “What are you talking about?” She asked wearily.

“Aspirin,” said Janet. They both turned to look at the fallen beast on the lobby floor.

“I quit,” said Clarissa.

“Me too,” said Janet, “and I’m switching to Tylenol.”