Earthbound : A gripping crime thriller full of twists and supernatural suspense Fynn Perry (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

Thirteen

Marty Jackson felt the hairs on his skin prickle in response to the tingle of energy that suddenly raced through his nervous system. Holding him rigid for less than a second, it caused the slight hunch in his back to straighten for an instant. He thought his sciatica had gone nuclear again, but when everything went back to normal, he was happy to have gotten off lightly this time.

He continued to walk the fence surrounding the light-grey, box-like building that was Supreme Logistics Fulfillment Center as he did, every hour, to check for signs of trespass. It was a cool night for late summer, and his standard-issue security guard’s jacket kept the chill out. The entire area was under constant surveillance by a network of IP cameras, with his buddy George, five years his junior at fifty-eight years old, manning the screens in the surveillance room, which also doubled as their social quarters. They both worked for Supreme Security and wore the same beige uniforms with military-style, embroidered arm patches featuring the firm’s name and logo.

He considered how lucky they were. He, George, and Jeff on the gate were earning much better wages than the market average. They were under no illusion that they were worth the extra salary, being neither ex-military or in good shape. In fact, George had glasses with lenses as thick as poker chips and Jeff was deaf in one ear. He had a theory that the only reason they were needed was to make the place look unimportant and to provide a kind of cover of normality. He suspected that the place wasn’t ordinary, but he had no idea what went on inside. Regular trucking companies used the facility, and the drivers he had spoken to had told him that the goods they were hauling were ordinary consumer goods. So why the need for the other security team that managed the internal areas? Those guys were younger, dressed in black combat gear, well-trained, and in much better shape, but none too friendly.

Suddenly, bored with the prospect of more hours of patrolling ahead, his long-standing curiosity got the better of him. He had an irresistible urge to see the areas his boss had expressly forbidden him to go near.

He started walking back, well before break time, to the control room where George sat. Once inside, he would have access only to a small corridor containing a kitchenette and bathroom, but there was also, he’d noticed, a door they’d been told never to use.

It had taken the truck driver just over an hour to complete the return journey to the fulfillment center. When the truck approached the security gate, John had left the truck, opting to possess a guard he had seen patrolling along the inside of the perimeter fence instead of staying with the vehicle. He figured that the easiest way to see what was going on inside was to possess a guard who was on patrol. With a facility this size, he assumed there would be a security control room, and sooner or later, the guard would have to return to it. Inside, John could take a look at the camera feeds from all around the building.

John’s new host was a lot older than he had expected a security guard to be, but the man was very informative. John discovered this minutes after being inside the guard’s body when he stumbled upon another useful aspect of possessing a host: he could not only listen in on their thoughts, but if he agreed strongly enough with a deep-rooted desire within the person, he could amplify it, reinforce it—perhaps, he thought now, even turn it into an action. It probably varied from person to person, but with gullible Marty here—according to his name badge—it was looking like it might be quite easy.

Just as John had hoped, after ten minutes, Marty opened an unmarked, thick metal door to the side of the building and walked into a dimly lit room with a smell indicative of nonstop male occupation: coffee, strong aftershave, greasy food, candy, and body odor.

“Hey Marty, see anything suspicious?” George chuckled as he regarded John’s host over a set of monitors. John caught a glimpse of the screens––disappointed to see that they only showed external camera feeds.

“Nope!” the host said as he headed for the corridor. “Just going to use the can.”

But he didn’t. He made straight for the door at the end of the corridor, the forbidden door. He tried the handle. It was locked. Something in his head was willing him to knock. He extended out his hand, nervously. It was shaking, but he knocked anyway. Nothing. A few minutes passed, and then the door opened.

“What?” A menacing face, at least a foot higher than his, glared down at him, along with the eyes from a hundred tattooed skulls wallpapering a thick neck. The guy’s black combat clothing had no identifying markings but Marty recognized him immediately as a member of the ‘other’ security team.

Marty stood there, not knowing what to say. John was relieved to see that this tougher guard was unpossessed and he could give Marty a way out of the situation he’d help put the poor guy in.

“This door is off-limits!” the guard with the inked neck growled in a Hispanic accent.

Marty started to feel dizzy. He felt his courage leaving him and his knees weakening.

John transferred from Marty to the other guard, leaving Marty to collapse from the exhaustion of the possession.

The new host called for help and a second guard in black combat dress appeared. “Looks like he’s fainted,” he reported to his colleague. Together, they carried John’s former host to the battered couch in the control room.

“Let me call an ambulance,” George offered.

“No ambulances! You know the rules,” John’s host hissed at George. George didn’t have to be told twice.

“Back to your screens, old-timer.”

The second black-uniformed guard checked Marty’s breathing