The rules here are plain and simple - either wear your full gear or die. The newer among us complain at first, say it's way over the top considering we're just here to clear out an old asylum that's been abandoned since the 1910's. Rest of us tell them to suit up and shut up, with any luck they'll see reason sooner rather than later.
In the winter wasn't so bad you know - the thick overalls, hard hat, respirator, goggles and ear defenders kept you nice and cozy. When summer rolled around we were all prepared to quit within a week and nine of us had already fainted on the job. Management just waved the contracts we signed in our faces and said we'd be readily replaced.
Pay's too good in a job like this, that's how the bastards keep you hooked. So we kept on going, slipping crazy straws under our respirators, hiding flexible water bags and ice packets under our overalls - doing everything we could possibly think of to stay safe and stay awake enough to get the job done.
We should have started from the bottom up but all those stairs kept the blood going, kept us warm and, most importantly, kept us in as much daylight as possible. The rumours floating about the basement and the old fallout shelter inside were worse than any headless figure we'd seen out the corners of our eyes and we'd all seen a few of those in the past few months.
By the middle of summer we only had the basement left to do. Bloody complex was eight separate buildings all connected by a labyrinth of underground tunnels with a dozen off-shoots, dead ends and small rooms filled with things so damaged by the damp they were just heaps of sodden mush. Still, we signed up for this and we pressed on, suited to the nines and drowning in our own sweat.
I never asked his name when he arrived, I was just exhausted meat at that point and all I wanted was to go home, shower and sleep til the next shift. He was some bright eyed newbie who'd already complained about the amount of protective gear a dozen times before we'd even entered the building. I should have guessed he'd do something stupid and put us all in danger.
Somewhere between the basement's entrance and the third chamber in, he took off his ear defenders and left them hanging around his neck while he put cheap earbuds in and blasted his own tunes - completely disregarding the fact that the defenders are hooked to a mic in the respirators so we can all maintain contact. We didn't notice his radio silence until it was too late.
It was Davis that spotted him heading down the stars, following the signs to the fallout shelter. We all yelled and tried to get him to put the ear defenders back on til we saw a shadow peel itself off the wall and latch onto his back. That's when he died but management refused to declare him dead without a body to prove it.
So they sent us back down to retrieve him, knowing that if he'd triggered a feeding frenzy they were just adding fuel to the fire. Not that they cared - they'd already made us aware of just how replaceable we were as another newbie joined to to bring his predecessor above ground again.
I remember going down but I don't remember much past that, nothing visual just sensations. Someone holding my hand and trying to lead me away from the group, someone tugging at my hard hat, respirator and goggles. Someone's mouth pressed against my neck, smiling.
Then we were on the ground floor, lugging something in a rolled up carpet. Thee was blood all over us but none of us had been injured. Needless to say the new guy didn't come back for a second shift and management had the heart to give us a long weekend to process what we'd been through.
Next shift's tomorrow and we'll be down a man.
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