Edan Osborne

There were a few things that had woken Dr. Asbjørn from their sleep. Their head felt as if it had been jackhammered, thanks to the dehydration and the lead pipe they had used as a pillow. The first was sudden noise that had come through the pipe: a reply.

.— .... —– .——. ... / – .... .. ... —..— / .— .... .– – / –.. —– . ... / – .... .– – / –. ..– — –... . .–. / — . .– –. ..—.. /

Quill leapt up from the musty, thinly-carpeted floor and tried to translate the message. It took a few goes, but they got it eventually.

“Who's this? What does that number mean?”, the code said.

“Fuck! That's no good!” They were about to tap out another message, when a second, far louder sound echoed throughout the corridor.

It was almost indescribable. Somewhere between a shriek and a howl, and Quill felt something they hadn't felt in decades: fear.

In an instant, Quill broke into a run. They ran until the rathole was but a memory, and yet the corridor never turned nor ended.

As they ran, they began to notice some things about this mysterious place that they hadn't before. Some parts of the carpet, which seemingly stretched to eternity, were slashed and torn, exposing the herringbone floor beneath, as if someone – or something – had taken a blade to them. The varnish on the walls was perfect, except for the occasional stretch, which appeared to have been sanded down to the bare wood. Most disarming of all, however, was the bones.

Scattered under the radiators, kicked under the carpet, and thrown through holes in the wood panels, were hundreds and hundreds of bones.

“Probably rats”, thought Quill. “Oh, fuck please let it be rats.”

Eventually, they reached a familiar crack in the woodwork: the Jumpstation. They climbed back inside, but without any punchcards it had may as well have been a cupboard. The noise was getting louder.

Quill put their hands over their ears, trying to drown it out. Through the gap between the door and the wall, they stared, hoping to catch site of whatever it was they had run from. Their hands were useless. The noise seemed to resonate throughout their body.

As if to make matters worse, in that instant, the gas supply ran out, plunging Quill into darkness...