The day had started as normal for me. I had fallen asleep sometime between midnight and 3am, with the light on, and had woken up after not hearing four out of five of my arms bring, every ten minutes, from 4am until 5am. I checked my clock. 5:09am. It was going to be a running day. I quickly rushed to get on my clothes, made sure I had a work shirt in my backpack, and left my basement suite. Whenever I left my pce, I always checked to make sure my keys were in my pockets, since my memory had burned me many times before. Of course, this time, I had forgotten them on my dresser and had already locked the door at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of worrying about it, I quickly got my worn-out shoes on and just left the back door unlocked.

  My bus was only two blocks away, but, those blocks were each double, maybe more, of what a regur block was. It usually took me around ten minutes to walk from my pce to the bus stop, and the bus normally arrived at 5:18am. I sprinted the two blocks and got there just as the bus was visible down the street. Panting, I pulled out my bus pass and stood there, catching my breath, waiting for the bus to pull up.

  As I do every time I get on the bus, I pulled out a book. This one was suggested by Este, but she insisted that I didn't have to read it, as she suggested it as a joke. Well, the joke was on her, as I was going to read it from cover to cover and tell her all about it, giving her every little detail about it on one of our calls. It was called Maria’s Destiny, and I bored of it very quickly. It started with her talking about what she knew she wanted to do at different ages of her childhood, and then quickly turned into a trashy romance novel. I’ve read other romance novels before, but this one took the cake of the most boring that I’ve tried to read. I decided to stow it back in my bag and stare bnkly out the window for the next fifteen minutes.

  I got off at my stop and walked to the pnt. Looking up at the corner, I could read the name, Forge, though it was partially obscured by some trees. I hated working there. Not at first, of course, but, after a couple of years of being under Tyler Munsch, the production supervisor, and his rule. Hell, sometimes I thought that he even controlled Stan, the pnt manager. Anytime he said anything to me, I would try my best to not just walk away, because more often than not, he was just going to be bitching and compining about someone or something, whether it was work reted or not.

  It was Friday and I was expecting to finish the work day, go home, and get on the Skype call with Este for the weekend. Instead, around 10am, after we had just finished making the st part of a batch of paint, I started hearing sirens coming from the main road. They didn’t stop. I went out of the shipping bay door, looked towards 52nd Street, and saw bck smoke coming from something out of view. I noticed Stan coming up behind me to check it out as well. At first, we assumed a car accident had occurred, but then Stan decided to take a look from the entrance to our parking lot.

  I decided to go back inside and grab a drink of water, and I watched Stan from the break room window. He was standing on the side of the street, 54th Avenue, looking towards 52nd Street, one of his hands was above his eyes so that he could block some excess light and get a better view. Suddenly, I saw a man sprint and leap onto Stan, and then beat on him. As soon as I saw it, I sprinted out of the break room, past the office, out the front bay door, which we used for shipping and receiving, through the gate around the corner, past the office front door, and rammed the man off of Stan.

  “What the fuck man?!” I yelled down at the man, who didn’t move or respond. I assumed he had hit his head on the curb and gotten knocked out. “Hey, hey, hey, Stan, you ok?” I asked, turning to look down at him. His neck and torso were covered in blood, and I was worried that he had been stabbed. I took a closer look at his neck, and saw a rge chunk had been ripped out of the front, exposing the inside of his neck. I turned to look at the man that attacked him, anger starting to rise. I was about to beat the life out of him. I kicked the man in the head with my steel-toed boots, right in the temple. I kept repeatedly kicking the man in the head, because, as far as I had known, he had just killed Stan. “Fuck you, you stupid piece of shit! How could you do something like that to a guy like him, huh? Fuck you!” I yelled as I continued to kick him all over his body.

  I remember just kicking and kicking and then feeling someone pulling me back. I turned my head to see, ready to start beating on whoever it was, until I saw that it was Harry Singh. He heard me yelling and had come out to see what was happening. He pulled me to the grass and released me. I tried to go back to the lifeless body of the man, but he held me back by my arm. I struggled to point at the man. “Look at what he just fucking did, Harry! He just killed Stan!” I was unable to calm down. Stan was an amazing guy. He didn’t deserve to die like that.

  Harry didn't let go. “Just, come on, Brad. Let’s go inside and call the police, let them deal with it.” He said. I was still seeing red, but was surprised by what came out of my mouth. “How about we walk down to the intersection there and just get one of them, huh? I’m sure that would be better and faster!” I shouted. I was surprised because it actually wasn’t a bad idea, especially for being enraged. Harry let me go and I started walking towards the sirens on 52nd. As I passed the man, I turned, kicked him once more, spat on him, and continued walking.

  I reached the intersection and looked around. Multiple cars had collided and a pair of cop cars had responded. There were multiple bodies on the ground, with the same kinds of wounds as Stan. There were a couple of bodies that were torn apart, pieces scattered around them, guts hanging out. Two of the bodies wore police uniforms. “What the fuck?” I whispered under my breath as I started walking towards one of the cops bodies.

  I had a gut feeling that I was in danger, so I decided to quickly run to each of the cops and take their handguns and ammo. It may have been a rash decision at the time, and could have gotten me into a lot of trouble, but I had felt something deep inside telling me that I needed those. It also told me to get my ass back to the pnt and lock it down. I started to run back, but stopped. I could have also grabbed one of their radios and used it to find out what was going on. I ran back to one of the officers, just as he started to stand up.

  I stopped dead on the spot. I was staring at the cop as he stood up, looking at the blood covering him, the injuries he sustained. They didn’t look very bad, but I still had no idea how he was standing. It gave me that gut feeling telling me to run. I decided to stay and watch, and then suddenly he turned and looked at me. His eyes were gzed over and they almost looked as if they were completely white. They were staring directly into mine. “Sir, are you ok?” I asked, slowly backing away. He had responded, just not how I expected.

  He arched his back, threw his head up, and let out a blood curdling scream that sounded so unnatural. I didn’t hesitate. I quickly raised one of the handguns and fired 3 rounds, hitting him in the body twice and his head st, which dropped him instantly. I slowly walked towards him, the gun pointed at the body on the ground. I looked at the other bodies and wondered if I had just fucked up. I had just shot and killed a cop. I was a cop killer. I was going to go to prison. My heart started racing as I thought about what I had just done.

  My thoughts of guilt stopped when I heard another scream, same as that of the cop, coming from up 52nd. I stood there, watching the road north, until I heard another sound, not like the scream, but more quiet, shorter, as if a predatory animal was surprised to find its prey. I was about to grab the radio off of the cop I had just shot, but decided against it and just ran, as fast as I could, back to Forge. As I turned to go around the corner into the parking lot, I looked back to see multiple figures standing at the intersection with the bodies.

  I stayed at the corner to watch them. About a minute ter, they started walking down the street, towards me. My gut kept telling me to get inside and close all the doors, but I just sat there, watching, until they seemed to notice me and started running. I finally ran inside, tossed one of the guns on the desk, put the other in the small of my back, and closed the bay door, locking the chain to the side so it couldn't open.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Open the door!” Tyler yelled. “Where the fuck have you been? We need you in the back right fucking now! We’re making!” His face started turning red waiting for me to react or respond. Instead, I just stood there, in shock as to what had just happened. I was trying to absorb it all when Tyler walked up and smacked me upside the head. “Now!” He yelled, directly into my ear. I slowly looked at him. “We need to lock the doors. Now. Something is happening, Stan is dead.” I said, my voice shaking. He shook his head at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?” His face started getting redder as he kept getting more pissed off with me. I pointed to the break room. “Go to the break room and look out the window.” I said, gncing at him.

  He sighed loudly. “We don’t have time for this. Stop fucking around and get the fuck into the back.” He muttered as he turned around and started walking to the production side of the warehouse. Before he turned the corner, he looked back at me. I was still stuck in the same position I was in after I locked the chain. I hadn’t moved, my facial expression didn’t change, and my face was pale. I’m not sure if he saw that or if he cared, but he sighed again. “Fine. I’ll go look out that window, but there had better be something!” He said as he turned to go towards the break room.

  I stayed where I was. I was a statue. The only thing moving was my mind. My mind kept bouncing from Stan to the cop to me shooting the cop and the sounds he made and the other sounds I heard and it just kept repeating and repeating and repeating in my mind until I heard Tyler. “Brad! What the fuck are you talking about? There’s nothing out there!” He yelled from the break room. I quickly ran over, my mind now trying to comprehend how he can’t see anything, or if I was just seeing things. I felt for the cops handgun. It was still tucked into the small of my back. I could feel it. It was real. I did not imagine it. I reached the break room door, but didn’t enter. I looked out the window in the direction I st saw Stan and the man who killed him, ying on the side of the road. I couldn’t see it because an electrical box was in the way.

  Then I heard something through the thin, single-pane gss window. I immediately jumped backwards and smmed the door shut. I grabbed the set of lockers sitting beside the door and pushed them up against the door as I heard the window shatter and Tyler shout. “What the fuck is-“ Tylers yell turned into a bloodcurdling scream, as one of those things, or what sounded like one, attacked him. Part of me was scared shitless by the thing on the other side of the door, another part was happy that Tyler was gone and that I was alive, and the other part of me was feeling guilty. I believed that I had now been responsible for 3 deaths. On top of that, I felt the guilt for not being able to save Stan.

  I stood in front of the break room door thinking about what had happened so far, when someone came sprinting out of the office door into the shipping area. I ran over to see who it was, and I saw Harry on the ground, looking at the office door. I got down on one knee beside him. “Hey, hey, you ok, man? What happened?” I asked in a soft voice, trying to hide my fear, guilt, and the fact that I already knew what had happened. One of them got into the office. Harry didn't look away from the door. “Someone broke through the window in the office and attacked Anton. Same as what you said happened to Stan.” He replied with a quiver in his voice.

  He and Anton Zhen were close. You’d have to be, working alone with someone every single day, otherwise you would end up killing each other. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Is he ok? I know another one broke through the break room window while Tyler was in there. He’s gone. Door is blocked, sort of.” I said. I thought about saying more, but the sound of one of those things came from inside the office. I quickly ran into Stan’s office, closed the inner door leading to the front office, came out, and closed the door leading to the shipping area.

  Then I thought of something. Another way to help keep these doors barricaded. “If we use the forklift to move a few of these totes, we can block the office door and the break room door. Maybe the front door too.” I suggested, hoping Harry would jump up and help. As it turns out, I’m not the only one susceptible to shock. He sat there, staring at the office door. I think I saw a small stream of tears flowing down to his chin. I pulled him off to the side, towards the small b that we had for checking the specifications of the paints, then ran over to the forklift and started it up.

  I had learned to drive the forklift a couple of years back. It wasn’t a requirement of working there, but I wanted to learn so that I could do more and help out more. I also hoped it would earn me higher pay, which it didn't. I twisted the key in the ignition and released the emergency brake pedal. The way we had learned was to only use the clutch pedal as the brake, and use the gas pedal for acceleration.

  I started moving totes full of paint and pcing them elsewhere, until I had a path to pce them in front of the break room door. I had to move the lockers before I could put anything else in front of the door. I ended up stacking eight totes, four as a base, and another four on top to fully block the door and make the barricade stronger. Not that it needed the reinforcement. One of those totes weighed around three thousand pounds. I just wanted to be extra careful.

  Then, I moved onto the office door. I had to move the desk with the second handgun out of the way, but I managed to get the same stack in front of that door. The front personnel door was right beside it, so I just stacked another four onto the side of the office door barricade and figured that would be enough. We had more than enough totes full of paint and chemicals that I could have added to it, but this needed to be fast and it had already felt like it took too long.

  I went to check on Harry, who had moved inside of the b and sat down on a chair. He still looked stunned. Again, I went on one knee and looked up at him. “Hey, man. You ok?” I asked, making sure to talk softly. He just looked at me and then slowly looked away. I nodded. “Hey, you stay here, alright? I blocked the break room, office, and front door to protect us all. You just take the time you need.” I said. Just then, I realized that the back bay door could be open right now, and the guys back there could all be in trouble. I had spent a lot of time up front, getting things moved and prepared, and I hadn’t even thought about them in the back.

  I quickly ran out of the b, through the packaging area, and into the production area. The bay door was closed, and the guys were all standing there, just chatting amongst themselves with their respirators around their necks. I assumed they were waiting for Tyler to come back so that we could make a batch of paint. We already had one of the giant mixers running, which was always very loud. We were required to be wearing our hearing protection any time one of the mixers was on, and especially with multiple running. I thought to myself that maybe those things would hear the mixers running and try to break into the production area to get at us.

  I figured that we didn’t need the extra noise, so I ran over and shut it down. Tommy looked over at me and made a confused gesture with his hands. “Why did you shut it off?” He asked as I ran over to the air circution controls and switched them off. The only thing I still heard was the air compressor. I could have ran back through the packaging area to the small section with the compressor controls to shut them off, but I knew that shutting it off was a very loud process as well. I wasn’t sure which would be worse. Constant sound for the duration of our time in hiding, or around five minutes of extra loud sound, but then quiet afterwards.

  I stood in front of the crew. “Guys, listen up. Something is going on. I’m not sure what it is. All I know is that Anton, Tyler, and Stan are all dead.” I said, luckily not having to be loud. Everybody just stared at me with confused eyes. I continued. “Harry is up front in the b right now. He watched Anton get attacked. I’ve blocked off the break room, the office, and the front door with some totes so those things have a harder time getting in.” I expined. Some of them scoffed at me and smirked, thinking I was trying to make a joke or make them worry for nothing. I wasn’t. “We need to lock these doors and try to somehow bar them from being opened. Lock the chain for the bay door, maybe we can find some things to block the other doors with.” I finished. Nobody was reacting to what I was saying, with the exception of those thinking I was joking.

  The production area was rectangur, with the bay door facing south. On the north side was a wall, which had the air compressor room on the opposite side. On the west side was a fire door, which always stayed open, but was supposed to sm down in the case of a fire. This was used for the forklifts to drive through and led into the packaging area. There was also a personnel door in the northwest corner, which opened into the packaging area. On the east side, the mixers were as close to the wall as they could get. Behind them were two personnel doors that opened outwards. One of the doors was sturdy and fine, but the other was already all bent and battered and it barely closed. On top of that, the only lock it had was inside the door handle. Blocking off those doors would not be easy, by any means.

  “Guys! I’m serious. Some things that look human are attacking! If you don’t believe me, step outside. Take a look around. Just note that I’ll be closing and locking the door when you do.” I said, remembering that I had the police handgun. I decided to pull it out and show them the blood on it. “This blood is from the cop this came off of at the intersection.” I expined, refraining from giving all of the details, just in case. The jokers stopped smirking. Tommy looked worried.

  Miguel, one of the jokers, stepped forward to get a better look at the pistol. “You’re actually serious?” He asked. All I could do was nod, slowly. They started barraging me with questions that I couldn’t answer. “What are they?” Dustin asked. “How many are there?” Miguel asked. “You said Tyler, Stan, and Anton are dead?” Tommy asked, sounding saddened. “Can we leave?” Asked Ab. Yusuf kept staring at me, looking like he still didn’t believe me. Matt decided to walk over to the nearly busted personnel door.

  “What are you doing, Matt?” I asked, ready to run over and sm the door shut if he opened it. Matt looked back at me. “Man, there’s no way that what you’re saying is real. I’ll show you all that he’s just trying to screw around with us.” He responded, a smirk on his face. I started walking to the door. “Matt, this is a life and death situation. If you don’t believe me, ask Harry, up front! Don’t put the rest of us in danger, man!” I said, starting to get louder, becoming angry at him already, just for suggesting that. Matt scoffed. “Nah, man, you probably told him to py along.” He said, keeping his smirk.

  I got closer. “Then how about you go take a look at the totes I moved to block the doors? If Stan was still alive, he would be tearing my head off for it! Or, even better, if Tyler was still alive, he would be tossing me into one of those fucking mixers right now!” I got even louder. “You think I’d be able to orchestrate something like that without some sort of repercussions?!” I started yelling. I was getting pissed. Matt looked like he was considering it, but instead, he opened the door, wide. “Fuck you, you liar!” He yelled, stepping outside. We watched as he took a few steps and looked around, then one of those things jumped at him, tackling him to the ground, and started beating on him.