THE RESTROOM, by Joseph Simmons
“It’s not the ductwork,” Sam said. His voice was quiet, he hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud.
Sheetmetal banged close in the ceiling. Metal pieces tore out above them, then a sound of many ceiling tiles and debris hitting the floor..
“My god!” Carl said, “I’m glad I already took a piss. Fucking ceiling tile just hit me in the dark, nearly scared me to death.”
“Do you hear that other noise?” Sam said.
“I don’t hear anything,” Carl said. “But I’m getting out of here before the entire building collapses on top of us.”
“Wait, listen,” Sam said. Fear forced him to stand still. The heavy thing in the ceiling was still moving. He could hear a sucking sound on metal. No, not sucking, sticking. “Shut up and listen for a minute. It sounds like something big is moving through the ceiling. Hear it? Sounds like it’s sticking to everything up there.”
“Sure,” Carl said. “I think you’ve shit yourself crazy,”
I don’t think so, Sam thought. The musty dust smell that had filled the room was being overtaken by something else. It was more of a metallic smell, and was stronger as the room got warmer. Did something spill on the roof? Something leaking into the ceiling? What the fuck is going on here?
“Sammy, get out of there, man. We need to get out of this fucking shitter and find out what’s happening in this place,” Carl said.
“Yeah, we do,” Sam said. He thought he’d taken a step toward the door but his feet wouldn’t move. He realized the noise in the ceiling was louder, and the sticky noises were worse. Fear wouldn’t let him move his feet. Something large and impossibly stick was slithering its way through the ceiling.
READ PART SEVEN…