I Do Government Work on an Oil Rig That Doesn't Officially Exist | Part 2

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Find support and feel lighter in therapy. Sign up and get 10% off at betterhelp.com slash dns. That's better H-E-L-P dot com slash dns. At Betway Casino, Kelly Brooke is our casino ambassador. And for all new customers, state 20 pounds and get 150 free spins. Download the Betway Casino app today. Team Plus T's and C's apply. Get the responsible way. GambleAware.org Brace the rudder. Raise the sails. Raise the sails. Captain and unidentified ship approaching. Over. Roger that. Wait. Is that an enterprise sales solution? To linkton.com slash lead to claim your offer terms and conditions apply. Doctor Nicely. Have you ever fired a gun, Chuck? The preparer asked me, has he slid paper after paper across the desk for me to sign? Guns? I nodded. Yes, sir. My pappy showed me how to shoot, but I'm not a fan of firearms, sir. Well, to tell the truth, neither am I. But, since this is government work, you will be trained in their use. Oh? Why's that? The preparer paused as a slip of paper dangled from his fingers. He smiled and shook his head. You aren't afraid of much, are you, Chuck? No, sir. Not normally. What about abnormally? Sir? You see, Chuck, where you are going? Echo station. Yes. Echo station. Well, on Echo station, things aren't always normal. I suppose an old oil rig in the Arctic Circle would be a bit strange. No, it's more than that, Chuck. It's been retrofitted into a scientific research vessel. He finally set the dangling paper in front of me and tapped at the signature line. I scrawled my name and waited for the next one. On the Echo, he continued, there are three levels specifically designed to house and study. Anomalies. Like those things in tide pools? No, Chuck. Those are anemones. Anomalies are things or occurrences that are outside the spectrum of what is considered normal. Oh! I clapped my hands and started to prepare. Sorry, got excited. What about? Right, yeah. Well, my pappy used to say, I was an anomaly. I completely forgot until now. He'd say I wasn't normal like the rest of the kids. He said I was different. And one day, me being different would either be a blessing or a curse. And which is it? Excuse me? Is being different a blessing or a curse, Chuck? I shrugged. I don't know. I suppose I'm still waiting to find out. The preparer laughed, but it was a friendly laugh. Oh, I have a feeling you'll find out on the Echo. That place has a way of bringing out either the best in people or the worst. Thirteen years. As I walk away from the command center, I take the walkie from my belt. Security chief low? This is Chuck. Come in, please. No response. No anything, really. Not even static. I look back over my shoulder and wonder if purging the command center ruined the comms. But that can't be. There's a backup comm system on the Echo. Security chief low? Please come in. Still nothing. As I come around the corner of the corridor, three crew members are standing there, blocking my way. Hey Abe. Hiya Carl. Lewis, what's going on? I say and give the men a big smile. Have any of you heard from security chief low? I tried calling her on my walkie, but she isn't answering. Abe is a big fella. Bigger than me even. Though he ain't as ugly. His face is a plain boring face. He steps to me and puts that plain boring face right in my ugly mug. We ain't seen her, but if we do, we'll kill the bitch and eat her kidneys with our oatmeal tomorrow morning. Abe snarls, rancid spit flicking from his lips and onto my cheeks. I'm papi, always said to say it, not spray it. I respond, wiping my face with my coveralls sleeve. And you could use a breath, my Dave, no offense. He grabs me by the front of my coveralls and lifts me up off my feet. I hear and feel the fabric tear. No thank you. He says, and he grunts, then looks down. My utility knife is sticking in his belly, and I can tell without even looking that the warm crud spilling out over my hand sure ain't red blood and pink intestines. Abe lures in my face and I shove him back with all of my strength. He falls into Carl and Lewis, and they push him away so they can come for me. Oh, what a mess. Carl throws a punch at my head, but I dodge to the side. I watch as his arm stretches two feet farther than it should. It'd look neat if it weren't just so wrong. Watching Carl's arm is a mistake. It gives Lewis time to put a fist into my right cheek, knocking me clean around in a half circle. I stumble up against the wall, and before I can recover, hands pull me back, throwing me down the corridor. My utility knife slips free and clatters off into the shadows. Shadows? Dang it. The power must have been cut. It looks like there's only emergency lighting on. That means the backup generator isn't kicking in, which isn't good. In the Arctic Circle, you kinda need power, where things get really cold, really fast. Even in the dim light, I can start to see my breath. Who got the power? Was it you, Lewis? I ask as I try to get up onto my feet. A sharp pain explodes in my left shin, and I look down to see bone sticking out of my coveralls. Well, damn. Ain't that a bitch? Need a new version of Chuck? Carl says as his arm wraps around my neck, pulling me in tight to his body. This one is gone bad. My leg is screaming with pain, but I ignore it and pull my blow torch from my belt. Reaching over my shoulder, I flick the trigger and send flames right into Carl's face. He screeches and throws me away. For a little bit, I'm flying free. Then I slam onto the deck and slide into the far wall. My leg is pure fire, and I have to bite my cheek to keep from passing out. Not nice, Carl! I shout and roll over and over, away from Carl as he chases after me, his foot continually stomping down on the spot right where I used to be. When I roll to the spot I want, I reach up and grab onto the fire alarm, pulling it down quickly. The corridor erupts with a blaring klaxon that is close to deafening. Carl falls to his knees and clamps his hands over his ears. Lewis does the same thing. I reach into a small pouch on my tool belt and grab out my earplugs, stuffing them in my ears as fast as I can. I sigh with relief as the klaxon noise is cut in half. It still stings, but it isn't going to explode my brain anymore. I can't say the same for Carl or Lewis. Their heads swell and swell and swell, then pop like pus-filled balloons. So does Abe's. Not that he was much of a threat anymore. The corridor is filled with the stench of rotted meat and animal piss, like a bear's cave after a long winter. I hook my fingers into the not-really-a-fire alarm above me and use it as leverage to help get me back on my feet. Or foot, since I ain't putting no pressure on my broken leg. Not that I can leave it this way. Not with bones sticking out and blood pooling all down my sock and work boot. I look at my tool belt and choose the best tool for the job. Duck tape. As Abe, Carl and Lewis dissolve into huge puddles of yellow mush, I ease my way around them and over to the closest hatch. I open it, but don't go inside. No, I just need a little leverage is all. Wedging my boot in the hatch, I pull hard, closing the hatch around my foot. Then I lean back as hard and fast as I can. The snap is loud. My scream is louder. I look down and the bone is no longer sticking out of my skin. I fall on my ass and wrap enough duck tape around my lower leg that I almost use the whole roll. But when I stand up, I'm able to put a little pressure on the leg. Not much, but close enough to do the job. I limp down the corridor, avoiding the spreading puddles of yuck and find my utility knife. Putting it back on my tool belt, I keep moving as fast as my leg will let me. I go down one set of stairs, see no one else than another set. A few folks are milling about outside the rec room. When they see me, they all smile. A couple of them have yellow pus oozing down their chins. One guy named Victor is oozing from all orifices, just leaking out pus everywhere. Damn it, Victor! Who do you think has to clean all that up? I say as I get to the bottom of the stairs. Of course, as designed, there is a red canister bolted to the wall at the bottom of the stairs. I yank it free and aim the hose at the group. I suppose you all think there needs to be a new chuck too? I say, my hand gripping the handle tight. If some of you don't, then I'd suggest getting out of the way. They all charge me. I let loose with the foam and their shrieks fill the corridor as much as the chemical bubbles do. Limping forward, I push them back toward the rec room doorway. Most start to dissolve before they get there, but that's okay. I'm not wanting them to go play ping pong or anything. I just need a little space to get by. Careful not to slip on the foam or the mush. I limp by the group, keeping the foam flowing on them. By the time I'm past, there isn't a human form left. Some of the mush is wriggling and squirming, trying to survive against the all-purpose cleanser the canisters are filled with. But that's a losing battle. Nothing survives against the all-purpose cleanser. They're screeching silenced. I get to the next set of stairs and hobble down to the first secure deck. I toss the empty canister aside and put my palm to a security scanner next to a double-walled airlock hatch. There's a beep and a green light flashes as the airlock opens. The smell that comes out of the next corridor is a million times worse than a rotten grease trap. Everywhere is splashed with blood or pus. I have to lean against the wall and slide my feet forward just to get a few yards down to the next hatch without falling on my behind. I peer in through the porthole in the hatch and instantly see the problem. Experiment number 8531 has gotten loose. The doppelganger bacteria. I sigh with gratitude that I don't have to search the two levels below for the culprit of all this darn mess. I don't think my leg could take it. I open the keypad by the hatch and start to enter a series of numbers. A thoughtfully built wardrobe really comes down to pieces that mix well, last, and don't make you feel like you overpaid. And that's exactly why I've been loving Quince lately. They make up everyday essentials using premium fabrics and thoughtful design without the luxury markup. I picked up one of their linen shirts and immediately noticed the quality, light, comfortable and not flimsy like cheaper linen. 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I don't know if I can say for sure. Try. I shrug again. It's more like I'll know them when I hear them. If something just ain't right. Well, then I don't suppose I can follow that order now, can I? And the government wouldn't want me to follow a bad order, would it? Now it's my turn to say that it depends on the order. But yes, in general, the government wouldn't want you to follow a bad order. He leaned forward and I held my breath. This looked important. In this position, the job you are being hired for, you will be asked to do some difficult things. Things that most men would shy away from, that they'd refuse to do. But that's not the hard part, Chuck. The hard part is that you'll also be getting conflicting orders. People on the echo will want you not to do these difficult things you have been ordered to do. They will fight you. They will try to order you to stop. But I won't stop. I can't stop, right? The prepare laughed. No, Chuck. You can never stop. If you stop, you will die. And all the work and breakthroughs and great stuff being done on Echo will be lost. And we can't have that, can we? No, sir. We can't have that. Good, Chuck. Good. He tapped the piece of paper in front of me. Just a couple dozen more signatures and we'll be done here. Thirteen years. Step away from the hatch, Chuck! Security Chief Lowe says, pulling me from my memories as I key in the purge code. Now, Chuck! I sigh and look down the corridor. Security Chief Lowe stands there in only half her usual body armor, a chest plate and leg plates, but no helmet or arm plating. She has one of the few carbines we keep on board, the rig pressed to her shoulder. She's got me dead to rights, so I let my hand fall and dangle at my side. She takes a few steps towards me. Which Chuck are you? The real Chuck or the changed Chuck? I blink a few times, confused. Uh, I'm Chuck. Always been Chuck. That's not what I mean! She shouts, still stepping my way slowly. The doppelganger bug got loose. Are you one of them or still one of us? I'm sorry, this day has been rough. Does being one of us mean I'm not made of Yellow Puss or that I am made of Yellow Puss? You better not be made of that sick shit! Oh good, yeah, I'm regular Chuck. No Yellow Puss in me, no ma'am. She hesitates. Prove it. I nodded the keypad. I was about to. Just gotta purge this experiment bay here, and that should show that I ain't one of them. It's too late. Purging that bay won't do anything. We need to light this whole station up and get the hell away from here. Disappointment floods through me. I like security chief, Lowe. She's good people, but... Sorry chief, but Echo Station is too important to lose. I say and reach up to the keypad again. We can't destroy all of it. They are everywhere! She shouts. It's already out! Purging that bay won't do a damn thing unless we cleanse this whole entire station. I agree with you there chief. The whole station will need to be cleansed, that's for sure. Good. Now forget that bay and come with me. I have the lightboat ready to go. Sorry chief, but we can't leave the Echo. That would be bad. We just have to stay here and clean this mess up. You can help, but I don't mind doing it myself. You'll probably have a ton of reports to write, so those powers that be know what happened here. Are you mad? At you? No. Why would I be mad at you? I mean, have you gone mad? Are you fucking insane? I'm not writing any reports. I'm leaving this hellhole. But I already said that we can't leave. A key in the last three numbers and more clacks since Blair is red lights flash inside the experiment bay. I nod at my job well done and turn to the chief. That should help with that. I frown at her carbine, still pointed at me. That won't do much against the yellow pus. Best to just use the cleanser canisters against the changed folk. You're fucking crazy! She says, lowering her weapon. I'm not staying to clean anything up. I'm leaving now. You can come with her and die here. The second she turns around, I pull out my wrench and throw it. The tool collides with the back of her head hard enough that I hear the wet thud over the clacksons. She really should have had her helmet on. I'm sorry chief. I say as I limp down to her. She's on the floor moaning and twitching. As a pool of blood spreads out from under her head. I kick her carbine to the side. I really don't like firearms. When I kneel next to her she whispers, Please. Shhhh. I say and put a finger to her lips. Then I slash her throat with my utility knife. And that's that. Well, not quite. I still have a lot of work to do. This station isn't going to purge itself of those nasty yellow pus people now is it? I'd better get to it. It is my job after all. There we are. The preparer said, You are officially hired Chuck. Isn't that wonderful? You mean I got government work? You certainly do have government work. He said with a friendly chuckle. When do I start? Right now. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a pill bottle. Personally, I'd take two. That'll help you sleep during the entire journey. If you wake up too soon, then they give you a shot. And from what I've heard, those have a nasty hangover. He shakes out two pills and hands them to me. I bounce them in my palm, then start to toss them into my mouth. Whoa there! He cries and I pause, almost letting the pills fall to the ground. What's wrong? I ask as I grip the pills tightly in my hand. Take them tonight when you go to bed. That'll give you time to pack a light bag with some clothes and personal effects. When you wake up next, you'll be on Echo Station. Just like that? Just like that? Wow, government work is exciting. The preparer laughed. You have no idea Chuck. I wasn't wrong. Government work is exciting. It's also, well, a lot of work. After giving my leg a shot of something from the first aid kit, I struggle through the rest of my day. Every single member of the crew has to be cleansed. Not a single one is who they are supposed to be. By the time I've put them all down, my leg is hurting so bad I can hardly stand. I clean the rest up soon, I say to myself, and slowly make my way to the infirmary. Just gonna take a quick nap. I don't even bother to strip off my coveralls. I just climb into one of the infirmary beds and pull the covers up over my head. I have no idea how long I sleep, but the sound of incoming rotors wakes me up quickly. Someone got the emergency beacon, which is great. Exhausted and in excruciating pain, I get out of bed and find a crutch in a cabinet. Using that, I hovel my way up to the helipad, or to the hatch that leads out to the helipad. I'm not dressed for outside. Once the helicopter has landed, it waits only long enough for a dozen men and women to jump off, all carrying large, black duffel bags before it takes off immediately, flying away into the nasty arctic weather. I step back from the hatch and let them inside, making sure it's locked and secure after they all enter. It's a tight squeeze, but we fit. A woman takes her hood and goggles off and offers me her hand. Captain Van Horn, I'll be leading this new crew. You must be Chuck. I shake her hand and nod. Yes, ma'am. Well, if you're half as good a custodian as your reputation, then I look forward to working with you. Thank you, Captain. But I have to say that I haven't done a very good job this time. The whole crew stiffens, and a couple of them grab onto their sidearms. Are you saying there are still anomalies loose on Echo? She asks. Oh, dear Lord, no. I reply quickly. I took care of all of them. Don't you worry about that. I just haven't had a chance to clean up the mess. Christ, is your leg broken? A man asks and squats by my leg. Jesus, that's bone trying to poke through that duct tape. Yeah, that has slowed me down, I say in shrug. Not that that is any excuse. Captain Van Horn shakes her head and laughs. Dr. Hale, would you please escort Chuck to the infirmary and give him a full workup? Of course. The man squatting by my leg says. You go with the doctor, Chuck, and we'll start cleaning up the station. The captain says. Oh, no. I can't let that happen. I say. I'm the custodian of Echo Station. It's my job to clean it all up. And you've done your job well, Chuck. Don't worry about that. Well, Captain, no offense, but I do worry. I was hired to do a job, and I do that job no matter what. All I need is a splint on my leg, some Tylenol in my belly, and a mop in my hand. Chuck, my first official order as new captain of Echo Station is to order you to go to the infirmary and let Dr. Hale fix you up. Then you are ordered to rest until healed. We will clean the station. That gives us all the time to get acquainted with the rig anyway. Well, I suppose those are orders I can listen to. I nodded the captain. Thank you, ma'am. What? Are there orders you don't listen to? One of the new crew members asks. I smile over at him and say. Well, yes. And let's hope you ain't the one giving them. No one laughs. They all just stare at me as Dr. Hale slowly leads me down the corridor and towards the stairs that will take us to the infirmary. Yup, like my pappy always said, government work is good if you can get it. And I sure got it good.