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I've Been Hiding Under My Desk for 12 Hours

You're probably wondering, "how did he get here?" Well, I'll tell you; it all started with Dave's fucking salmon casserole.

It started around lunchtime yesterday. I'd been complaining to my cubicle neighbor - Karen - about the smell of Dave's reeking salmon casserole that his wife made him bring to work for the past few days and Karen had been in the middle of telling me to bring it up with our manager when the fire alarm went off.

We looked at each other and then around the office, we couldn't see any fire anywhere, but being on the fifteenth floor, we didn't want to take any chances. I picked up my phone and we walked out of cubicles. Perhaps it was just a drill, looking back, I wish it had been a drill. We walked out into the hallway with the elevators - like most office buildings you needed a pass to scan in to the actual work areas, confidentiality and the sort. I bee lined for the elevators, but the stream of people flowing from the office reminded me that in the case of a fire, you should always take the stairs.

I was about to go and follow them when Karen grabbed my arm, "We're taking the elevator"

I looked at her confused, "What do you mean Karen? We have to take the stairs."

She looked at all the people going down the stairs, then at me, then at the elevator call button. She pressed the button and met my gaze, "oops, guess I'll take the elevator. I'm not taking fifteen levels of stairs down to the main lobby for a drill. If it were real, we'd smell the smoke through the vents."

By now the flow of people had subsided and it was just the two of us on the floor. I looked at her, then to the door leading to the stairs, then to the light that dinged, saying the elevator had arrived. On impulse I went over to the elevator and got on, if the elevators were still functioning, then surely this was just a drill. Karen smiled smugly and came in after me.

She pressed the ground floor button and the elevator began its slow descent, "So the boss is giving me some pretty important reports to work on, something to do with the expenses in our genetics department, all very hush hush. I think I'm in line for a promotion, isn't that great?"

I looked at her and blinked. Of all the other accountants I'd wanted to be in an elevator with, why did it have to be her, "Yeah, that's just great Karen."

She smiled again, not sensing my sarcasm, "Yeah it is, you'd better start kissing my ass now Jim, if you ever want to get out of that entry level position."

My name's Mark. I've told her that multiple times, yet she insists on calling me Jim.

The elevator slowed and then came to a halt. I looked up to the floor display, surprised to see that the elevator hadn't stopped on the ground floor like I'd thought. The small display showed the number seven and I frowned, though I figured perhaps someone else had pressed the call button on that floor and we'd simply get more passengers. I shrugged and passively listened to Karen - who was in the middle of a long winded rant about how she was so glad that she would finally be the manager- and pulled out my phone. Due to being blinded by her own brilliance, she didn't notice that we hadn't stopped on the proper floor and stepped out into the hallway.

She turned back to me and noticed the horrified expression that was plastered across my face, confused, she asked, "What's wrong Jim? Can't fathom how amazing I am?"

She turned and snickered stopping only moments before a large mass of grey steel crashed into her, splattering her against the wall. My breath caught and for the first time I allowed myself to peer out of the elevator passed the dead man in a white lab coat that had horrified me before. The walls were caked in blood and viscera, half a skull was stuck to the wall, marinating in a gooey glob of congealed blood and brain matter. Bits of white fabric were poking up here and there between masses of limbs and organs that had been pulverized by an unknown force. I choked back the bile as I looked to where Karen had ended up.