Close Your Eyes: A Horror Story Collection Page 6
It was Mr. Brockford. He was yelling at someone in the break room. But it was unlike any yelling that Allen had heard before. It wasn’t like when he got in trouble as a teenager and had his father come into his room and yell at him. The only thing that he could equate it too was that of a drill instructor yelling at a private. Allen continued walking down the hall hoping that he wouldn’t be noticed. The break room appeared on his left and even though he knew that he shouldn’t he couldn’t help himself but look in, to look in and see what was happening.
The Chief Financial Officer, James Williams, was backed against the counter with a paper plate in his hand. There were two pieces of toast stacked neatly on top of each other with what looked like grape jelly smeared all over them. The plate was being held close to William's’ chest almost like a shield and it looked like the toast was going to slide off onto the floor at any second. Williams was pushed up against the counter in a somewhat slumped position. Mr. Brockford was only a few inches away from him. His cheeks and face looked redder than ever. It looked like he had a severe sunburn on just his head. His closed fist was raised towards William’s face as he yelled.
“When I tell you do something it better be goddamn done. I will NOT be made a fool of.” As he said the last sentence Brockford turned his other hand into a fist and slammed it into the countertop next to him. The plates and silverware in the sink rattled from the impact. Williams said nothing but only nodded his head in silent agreement. It was then that Allen realized that he had stopped walking. He was just standing there in the hallway like a dumbass staring into the break room watching the president of his company berate the financial officer. Horrified he began walking again but as he did he felt eyes on him. He turned his head back and found Brockford and Williams both staring at him. Williams had a look of defeat and submission on his face but Brockford had that all too familiar look of hate on his. Unsure of what to say, or what to do, Allen said the first that came to his mind, “Good morning.”
They stared at him for a bit longer but said nothing. He started walking faster hoping to get out of their view as fast as he could. When he reached his cubicle he was nearly shaking. He just knew that Brockford would come down to his cubicle any minute now screaming and yelling at him all the way. He tried to work, he tried to listen to music, he tried anything to get his mind off of it but he kept drifting back to the yelling.
Chapter 5 - Sledge
His first year at Brockford passed quickly. Outside of work, things were going great. He had moved into a newer apartment complex just a few miles from the office about six months ago. He had decided against the Shaded Meadows complex. There was just something off about the place that he couldn't quite put his finger on. His new apartment still had that fresh feel to it and there were many other people his age living, or coming and going, in the apartments next to his. It felt like a place where he could make new friends. It felt like a place that he could potentially belong again. The days of being an outcast twenty something who still lived with his parents were over. With all that being said, a girlfriend was still proving to be elusive. He had gone on a couple of dates here and there, but nothing stuck. He was in no hurry now though. He had a decent job and he had the money coming in. Everything else would come in time.
Along with his new apartment came a somewhat newer car. He had wanted a brand new pickup truck, either Toyota or Ford, but he ended up settling on a Ford model that was a few years old. He’d given up on the bells and whistles. Just because he was making good money didn’t mean that he had to be a dumbass about it and blow it all away on a truck. He would save what he could. All in all, though things were going well, at least outside of work. He finally felt like his life was coming together. He was able to go on vacations, he was able to buy presents for his friends and family, he was even able to take his parents out dinner a few times a month.
Even though his personal life was going well Allen had begun to loathe his job. Sure, the money was great but each day that he came in felt like a gamble. He rarely saw Brockford but when he did that feeling of fear rose up in him like an ocean wave crashing over and over again. The whole office lived in fear, fear of exactly what nobody knew… or maybe some knew, but no one dared talk about it. Allen had heard stories of Brockford losing his temper on people, and he had seen an example of it before, but was there something more to it? Was there something else that Brockford was hiding?
At one point in time, Allen doesn’t remember when, a new hire was walking down the main office hallway. His walk was rather slow as he was looking at his cellphone as he walked. When he looked up Brockford was standing in front of him. Brockford’s fists were clenched and he was only a few inches from new guy’s face. Brockford’s breathing was heavy and labored. The familiar redness in his cheeks was as bright as ever.
When Brockford spoke it came out in a yell, “I’m glad that you have the LUXURY to leisurely walk around this office fucking off on your cell phone. The rest of us here have work to do son.” Brockford snatched the cellphone out of the employee’s hands and then threw it hard against the wall. It hit with a loud clank and then settled on the floor like a dead bug. Without another word he walked past the employee, down the hallway, and into his office. The door slammed behind him. The employee stood there in the middle of the hallway not saying anything.
A few days later the new employee was gone. Allen had heard rumors that he had transferred to another division within the company. That he had moved to field work instead of corporate work. But these were only rumors. Allen felt something else happened but a part of him was too afraid to ask.
--
A few days after his one year anniversary, Allen’s boss, Rich, came into the office with a rather large cast around his right leg. It started just below the knee cap and went down all the way to his ankle and wrapped around the heel of his foot. It looked so large and thick that at first Allen thought it was fake.
Allen had arrived in the parking lot the same time as Rich, like they always did. It was then that he noticed it. Rich had parked in his usual spot. A moment later he emerged from his car with two large crutches. Instead of carrying his laptop bag like he used to its strap was now fastened around his shoulder and chest like a satchel. Rich struggled for a moment to get out of the car but then with a sudden thrust of energy he threw himself forward while straddling his crutches. There was a second where it looked like he would fall down and face plant into the pavement but then he steadied himself. Allen rushed across the parking lot over to him asking if he could help. Rich looked up at him said at an almost whisper, “No.”
The voice sounded nothing like the Rich that Allen had worked with over the past year. The Rich that he knew was loud, boisterous, and fun loving. Most of the time you could hear his phone conversations from outside of his office… even if his door was closed. But now, now his voice was a mere whisper. This wasn’t him. Something else had changed about him as well but Allen couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Allen walked behind Rich as they entered the building similar to how a care worker would walk behind their patient. He had to make sure Rich made it to his office in one piece. It was the right thing to do, and after all even though he was his boss he felt that they had still become friends. When they entered the building Allen expected Rich to head towards the elevator that was in the lobby. But, instead, Rich headed towards the six flights of stairs. There was a rule established by Brockford that no employee was to use the elevator. The elevator was there for federal regulations only. Allen had never seen anybody use it since he had been there but Rich had. Rich had seen the confrontation they got from Brockford. He had seen the yelling, the cursing, the hitting.
Allen considered pushing Rich to take the elevator but he knew it was futile. Instead he walked behind him up the stairs slowly and carefully. He was always one step behind Rich in case he lost his balance or one of his crutches gave out. The amount of stairs could already be daunting to some but going up them with a bro
ken leg Allen couldn’t even imagine. But here they were creeping their way up the stairs. A few employees that Allen had talked to briefly before had entered the building below them. They walked up the stairs, saw them on the left hand side, and then slowly moved to the right without saying anything. A few seconds later they passed them on the stairs without a look back. There was no expression of concern. There was no questions as to what happened. It was like they didn’t exist, or like they were some kind of sideshow for people to stare it. Look, but don’t touch.
Eventually, they reached the top of the stairs and into Rich’s office. When Rich was settled in and his crutches were put aside leaning against the wall Allen finally asked him, “So… what the hell did you do last night?” He said it a joking manner but instantly saw that it was a mistake.
Rich looked at him for a few seconds without saying anything. Then, almost like it was a recorded or forced response, he said, “I jumped out of the bed of my truck and something just snapped. I guess I’m... getting old.”
Allen looked at him skeptically, “Really? That’s it? You just jumped out of your fucking truck?”
“Yeah… I feel like an idiot. I was at the emergency room for most of the night getting patched up. They expect me to be walking again in a few weeks.”
There was that look again, that look Allen couldn’t identify earlier. It was almost like Rich was regressing, regressing to the child that Allen knew as a boy. It was like his face had transformed. All Allen saw now was that goofy looking kid from when he was a boy. He looked vulnerable, he looked afraid.
“Well enough about me… let’s get to work,” Rich said with a forced smile.
Allen let out a sigh, “Ok, well let me know if you need anything.”
As Allen left Rich’s office and sat back down at his cubicle he knew something wasn’t right. Something had happened last night but Rich wasn’t talking. The rest of the day Allen tried to focus on work but he felt like he was being suffocated. The stress of this place was getting to him. The stress of the constant yelling and beratements. The stress of Brockman coming out of his office and sneaking up behind you. The whole building had an aura around it that put everyone on edge. And now, now, his only ally in the building, Rich, was hiding something from him.
--
Sure, he had the money. He had the things that he wanted but they weren’t enough. All the things in the world couldn’t make up for the stress of the office, the stress of everyday life. He had to get out of here. He had to make a move. Every day that he spent in this place felt like he was losing more and more of his sanity. If things didn’t change he felt that he was going to snap.
After Allen had hit his one year mark and shortly after the cast incident with Rich he began working on his resume at home in his off hours. He had that freedom now. He had gotten into the corporate world with a fancy title and now a year later he could make the transition elsewhere. Just by having that title opened so many doors across the city. He was set now, he just had to jump through the hoops of applying somewhere else. He worked on it a little bit here and there every night or so. When he was finished he met his father for lunch and had him look it over to get his opinion. He pointed out some errors here and there but overall he said that it was quality, or in his words, “I’d hire ya!”
When Allen was confident with it he spent his entire Saturday applying to various positions in Carolsburg. There were even a few analyst positions that looked like he would be a direct fit for. Along with applying for the positions he also posted his resume to online job boards so that other companies could find him easier. It only made sense. Maybe he’d get lucky and a company would call him. It couldn’t hurt.
After he was satisfied with his work for the day he left for the liquor store to pick up a six pack. He picked up his favorite local craft beer, came home, and started a movie. As he watched and drank he thought about the future, of the things to come, of better times. He raised his beer to no one in particular and said aloud, “To the future!”
--
That following Monday was like any other. Allen strolled into the building just before seven-thirty. The day progressed slower than usual. Allen kept sporadically checking his private e-mail and his phone for any updates on the applications he sent out. Every time he checked there was nothing.
It was towards the end of the day at just past the three o’clock hour that Allen got an e-mail that made his heart stop. He was working on a new dashboard for Rich when in the bottom right of the screen he saw Mr. Brockford’s name come up. He had only seen e-mails from him one other time since he had been here and that was an email reminding everybody about the ‘elevator policy.’
Allen sat there frozen not knowing what to do. He knew he had to bring up his inbox and check the email but he was terrified of what it contained. Was it just sent to him? Or, was it a companywide e-mail?
With his heart pounding in his chest and his head beginning to sweat he clicked on the inbox and hovered his mouse of the e-mail. It was a meeting request sent just to Allen. Brockford had sent a meeting request to Allen. That wasn’t the worst of it though. No, not by far. The meeting was set from six to seven that night, when the office was empty. All the subject of the meeting said was, ‘Family.’
What could this be? Where had this come from? His mind raced through every scenario that he could come up with but each time it came up blank. He felt like a caged animal waiting to be put down. The minutes crept by and every one of them was bringing him closer and closer to his after hours meeting with Brockford.
When the five o’clock hour rolled around he heard the usual people around him get up and quietly leave. As he watched them leave Allen wished that he was one of them. He wished that he could just get up and follow them out. There was no denying Brockford though. What he wanted he got. A quarter after five Allen heard the door to Rich’s office close and lock. He looked over and saw Rich standing outside his office trying to balance everything with his crutches, laptop bag, and keys. After the door was locked he turned around towards Allen and began walking his way.
“Working late tonight?”
“Nah, I’ll be out there in a bit. I’m just trying to finish things up.” Allen wasn’t sure if he should mention his meeting with Brockford or not. He started to say something but Rich had already started walking past his cubicle.
“Have a good night Allen. Be careful.”
Allen replied automatically, “You too.”
He looked at the clock yet again. The meeting was less than forty minutes away.
--
Before he knew it the six o’clock hour had come. Besides his desk there was only one other light on in the office, it was coming from one of the offices in the very far corner of the room but Allen couldn’t be sure which one. He stood up and looked around his desk for anything that he would need to take in with him. Unsure of what to grab he picked up a small notebook and a pen and then he began walking down the hallway towards the big double doors that waited for him at the end. They waited for him like the open jaws of a shark.
Both of the doors were shut. Unsure of what else to do Allen knocked loudly on the right hand door. The knock reverberated through the empty office with a strange echo.
“Mr. Brockford it’s Allen Kennedy. I’m here for our meeting.” His voice was shaky. There was no response, only the silence of the room and the hum of the idle computers. Maybe he as gone. Maybe he had forgotten? Maybe if Allen turned around right now and started walking away that it would all be forgotten.
Allen waited for a moment longer listening intently for any signs of life behind the large wooden doors. When there was nothing he turned himself around and started to walk away. He didn’t get one step in until he heard the booming voice come from inside the room.
“Come on in. The door is unlocked.”
His heart sank. Reluctantly, he turned back around and pushed the lever handle. It bent down with ease, and then with a pop, the door pushed inwards. Allen walke
d into Brockford’s office much like he had when he interviewed. He hadn’t been in here since then but most everything looked the same. The large desk was still centered and up against the back wall. The seating area on the left looked the same. The room on the right’s door was open and Allen could see now that it was a personal bathroom. The liquor cabinet behind the desk was still stocked. In fact it looked even more so. It was as his eyes were scanning the room that he noticed something. The sledgehammer. The sledgehammer that was mounted on the wall next to all of the other trophies and pictures. It was gone. The plaque was still there, but the hammer as gone. A cold chill ran along his spine causing him to twitch slightly. Gooseflesh crawled over his arms and neck. A constant voice inside his head kept repeating the same question over and over again: Where was the hammer? Where was the hammer?
Almost as if on autopilot Allen kept walking towards Brockford’s desk. Brockford was sitting in his oversized executive chair. The chair was leaned back as far as it would go and Brockford had one of his legs crossed over the other. Both of his meaty arms were resting strangely still on each armrest. His usual shirt and tie were gone. Instead, there he was in his undershirt. Allen had never seen him so underdressed, and the expression on his face was nearly impossible to read, but his cheeks were flushed as usual.
His desk was mostly empty except for his computer monitor and a piece of paper that was centered on the desk. As Allen approached he found himself drawn to the piece of paper like a moth to light. It was as he got closer to it that he realized to his horror what that piece of paper was. It was his resume. It was his resume that he had placed online. Somehow he had found it. Somehow after only a few days he had found it. The whole room felt cold.
When Allen was at the base of his desk Brockford raised his right arm and signaled to one of the seats that sat in front of the desk. Allen sat down all the while staring at his resume.