My First Day On The Job At A Substation In Texas Was Nothing Short Of Terrifying

I would’ve snooped longer, but the temperature felt like it was dropping even lower, and I was the idiot in a short-sleeved button up and wife beater. I grabbed the light bulbs and quickly headed back into the concrete box. I pulled one of the ugly metal chairs to the center of the floor and stepped up on the two thin arms to reach the light fixture. I held the spare bulb in my mouth while just reaching high enough to slowly spin the other bulb in. I had to extend my body straight up and turn the bulb with my fingertips. Right when I secured the bulb in place and the light shone in my eyes, I heard the loud and familiar “bing” of the elevator arriving at the top floor. It startled me so bad, I lost my balance and nearly fell off the chair. I just managed to catch myself, but the extra bulb flew out of my lips and shattered on the tick-grey tile floor. I didn’t care, all I could think about was the elevator.

I ran through the break room and into the security room. I held my big, heavy Maglite tight in my hand, weighing its ability as a weapon and feeling so-so about the idea. I began to sweat bullets as I watched the elevator door slowly slide open. The light inside flickered just for a second, but there was nothing there. I stared for a while at the empty elevator, then turned to the TVs, going row by row from the top. The desert was still covered in fog and shining white, but nothing else out of the ordinary. Every room in the concrete box was well and good, and I saw myself staring at the wall of monitors. And the third row of tubes, the row that displayed the Endless Walk, was completely black save for the flecks of reception snow. I’d never been so fucking horrified by blank TV screens. Then I looked down a little farther to the control board, and saw the big red, digital clock: 2:58 AM. It was time for my second Walk. I slowly turned back to the open elevator, and as if it sensed my amassing fear, the lights flickered for a split second again.

“No fucking thank you,” I said out loud.

I cautiously leaned into the elevator just enough to see the panel. I pressed the “Close Door” button and quickly pulled back out. The door whined metallically to a close and I stared at it for probably another full minute. I finally sat down once I accepted the door wasn’t going to open again. The TVs were still black, and my gut was in more knots than I wanted to bear.

I was glued to those TVs for the next half hour. As much as I waited for any image from the Endless Walk, I also scanned the other monitors. I began to conjure up all manner of terrifying events to befall me as record high levels of paranoia overtook me. I continuously leaned back in the old office chair to glance out of the door and into the break room. Making sure nothing was sneaking up in the camera blind spots. Half the time I felt like an ass. The other half, I thought about the white figure in the tunnel and feel every nerve in my body go cold and hot at the same time.

Before I realized it, I glanced at the digital red clock: 3:27AM. I briefly thought about how I’d probably have to bullshit my second check-sheet. That’s when I heard the unearthly metal howling again. It was coming from outside, and it was loud enough to reach me in the security room. I looked at the row of monitors that displayed the perimeter, and the fog was shifting. The wind must’ve been kicking up fiercely. Then, I noticed something distinct. There was a spout in the mist, shooting up a few feet above the already dense carpet. It reminded me of the water jet skis kick up, and this one was in a torrential ocean of freezing white fog. It was quickly joined by others, and they began to litter every screen. Then they all began to move towards the cameras and my little concrete box in the middle of the desert.

“Fuck me,” I groaned before the cameras went white and the building began to shake.

I ducked down and covered my head instinctively, expecting the whole place to come down on me. The building rumbled, but the place was built solid. Aside from a heavy cloud of dust shaking loose from everything, and the bulletin board coming down in the break room, there wasn’t any significant damage to the concrete box.

I stayed low as I listened to the skittering of what sounded like a thousand skinny legs scrambling over and around the building. I glanced up at the monitor wall, and only saw a swirling haze of white, with the occasional and brief shadow flashing past the screen. I thought about how badly I wanted my pistol from the glove box in my Chevy. Not like I’d know what the hell to shoot at, but having a big-ass .357 in your hand is a whole lot of courage on demand.

The sound was becoming deafening, and I was just about to the point where I was going to yell from anger and fear. Right about then, the noise suddenly died out and the rumbling quickly settled. I stood up from a kneel and looked at the monitors. The row on the top was that of a nice and normal desert at 3-something in the morning. The mist and fog was quickly clearing up, and I could make out the ground in a few places. My Chevy was still there, and I was immediately thankful for that. I looked down two rows and saw the Endless Walk, lit as well as it ever was and no freezing fog in there either.

I was just starting to get ready to be pissed at some higher power that was apparently fucking with me when the little red phone in the security room rang. It looked like the kind of phone you’d see in 80s and 90s action movies when someone would call the President’s secure line. Except this one was cracked in a few places and in dire need of a cleaning. The loud and sudden ringing cut right through me in my state and I yanked it off the receiver by pure reaction. I held it away from me for a moment, gathering myself and thinking about how I’d answer.

“Yyyellow?” I said as I immediately rolled my eyes.

“Billy, boy, what the hell happened?” Walter yelled into my ear. I hardly recognized his voice. I couldn’t imagine that goofy old bastard angry. Before I could say anything, he went on. “All you have to do is make two rounds down there at 10 and 3 o’clock — it ain’t that hard, boy!”

“How did you —” I began to ask before he cut me off.

“That ain’t what’s important! You don’t make those rounds and check on them lines, bad things happen, son. Too many bad things happen, and ain’t no amount of hauling ass will put enough miles between you and all kinds of hell,” Walter preached. He sounded incredibly convicted to his words. “We’ll have a talk about this tomorrow night. You be there right at 8:30, you hear me son?” And then he hung up.

I was at a loss. Dawn came around soon after my one-sided conversation with Walter and I finally ventured outside my little concrete fort. As I approached my truck, I felt a hot flush over every inch of my skin. My Chevy looked like it had light hail damage all over the roof and hood, but I knew it wasn’t hail that rushed over my old pickup. I didn’t hang out to contemplate it. I got in my truck and raced the hell down that road and back to civilization.

I don’t know what the hell to do. I’ve got rent and bills to pay, and I’d never find another job quick enough to pay my next set of them. My landlord isn’t the type to look to kindly on late payments. And I have all kinds of payments I can’t fall behind on. But then again, there’s no amount of debt that’s worse than being literally scared to fucking death. All things considered, my plan as of now is to head out tomorrow night, shake Walter’s hand, and tell him to go fuck himself. He can find a new hire.