Flash Fiction Friday (Cycle 38) Having all the Facts

Flash Fiction Friday Prompt: Write a story involving madness in whatever form appeals to you.
Genre: Open
Word Count: 1200 words.


 The VA councilor leaned back in his cheap government issue office chair and sighed deeply while looking up at the ceiling of his small office. “Josh buddy,” he said from behind his equally cheap desk, “I’ve told you time and time again, hyper-vigilance is just a symptom of your PTSD. You and your unit spent months in that Iraqi village waiting for mortars, RPG’s, and God knows what to fall down on your heads. How many times was your unit attacked in your six months you all were inside the walls of that compound?”

“At least twice a day,” I replied, doing my best to prevent the memories from overwhelming me. My councilor was a decent guy, but he just did not understand. He had spent twenty-one years in the peacetime army where the toughest thing he had to endure was an extended field training exercise to the National Training Center at Fort Irwin. The desert to him was mock Soviet tanks and other armored vehicles played war games while ambitious brigade commanders kissed ass and pushed their units for that golden after action report. “But this isn’t hyper-vigilance Raymond,” I said, “things at work seem wrong. I feel like people are talking behind my back and keeping something from me. Its paranoia I tell you and it makes me feel very uncomfortable.”

“Explain to me what you think is happening.” He said giving me an irritating paternal smile.

Even though I had witnessed what I thought were several instances of strange behavior I found myself thinking hard to give Raymond a good example. “About a week ago I was headed to the break room to buy a soda and was stopped just outside by someone wanting information about a report. I could see about ten people inside mindlessly staring at one of the big corporate guys who was saying something. I couldn’t hear him but his gestures and facial expressions were odd. When I finally stepped inside it all suddenly stopped with everyone looking at me as if the zipper on my pants was open. More than that, I felt exactly the same every time my squad was on patrol in some Iraqi town, like the locals could at any minute swallow us whole then spit us out in bloody pieces.”

Raymond chuckled and began looking off into space, he was ignoring me now and I hated that. Feeling as if I needed to respond I looked away from him and began reading all the certificates, diplomas, and pictures that adored his “I Love Me” wall signifying a military career totally free of some asshole trying to kill him. “Listen Josh, when did you get your degree in psychology? God knows I’ve seen this in hundreds of other veterans that have left the service. You’re just transferring your post-traumatic stress to the civilian world. Tell you what, I’ll up your anti-anxiety medication for a few weeks. I have some sample bottles in another office and if they relieve the symptoms, I’ll write out a full prescription.

With that, he was up and through the door in less time than it would take a starving man to devour a Thanksgiving turkey. As I waited, the thought began running around in my head that Raymond could be on to something, except for another veteran like me I working around a bunch of sorry ass civilians. At worst all I had to worry about was them stealing my iPod or not inviting me to some asinine social function. So, when Raymond returned I took the collection of small bottles he offered and walked out.

The next morning as I walked into the building on the way to my cubicle I did somehow feel freer than the day before. While it was no weekend beer buzz at the beach, I took the sensation the new medication was giving me at face value. Making a conscious effort to integrate myself back into the banal normality of the civilian world, I made a concerted effort to look my coworkers in the eyes and greet each one like a normal person.

Unlike many civilians, I viewed my tiny office cubicle as a cozy, safe sanctuary. The enclosed space was diametrically opposite from the huge expanse of Mesopotamian desert that I looked out upon from my counter-sniper position overlooking the Iraqi town my unit was charged to protect and secure. The dull florescent lights were an easy load to bear as compared to the unforgiving sun. But the best aspect of my job was the building air conditioning, it was steady and so cold I often found myself chilled.

My job was simple enough, I worked for a big pharmaceutical company and I coordinated reports from several regions at the effectiveness of various drugs, namely anti-depression medication for adults and attention-deficit disorder pills for children. Truthfully, the job was incredibly dull but I was lucky to have it, with the economy in the ditch a lot of my fellow vets were out of work or in worse shape, sleeping under highway overpasses. While my councilor was a dick sometimes, Raymond was the one who pulled the right strings for me to land the position. It was too bad my morning good feeling just didn’t last.

The building was maze-like with halls that twisted and turned seemly at random. Unmarked doors that were always locked lined each side of the corridors. When noon hit I found myself lost trying to navigate my way through the labyrinth to the employee park outside that served as an informal gathering place. Taking Raymond’s advice, I was going to become part of the group, Hell there was a gorgeous blonde-haired woman named Sharon in accounting I knew hung out with the others outside and I was going to do my best to get to know her.

I was about to give up when after turning a corner the exit outside finally came in sight, it was then that one of the nondescript doors ahead of me opened with two guys coming out. Immediately, the hairs on the back of neck raised up as I watched them slowly shuffle trance-like out of the building. The door the two came out of did not fully close and while my paranoia was building to orbital heights my curiosity was even stronger. More to the point, I felt the need to confront the irrational fear that was not so slowly gnawing my insides to paste.

What I saw at first was just another hallway but this time huge plate-glass windows on the walls showed what was inside attached rooms. Bizarre surgical tables were lined up beside each other with surreal looking instruments from the darkest nightmare hanging down from the ceiling. Further back in those rooms were aquarium-like tanks each occupied with a creature that looked like a cross between a huge shrimp and a scorpion.

Being so caught up in looking at what was inside the rooms I totally did not hear the important corporate executive I previous saw in the break room days before giving strange lectures walk up beside me and grab my arm.

“Mr. Hamilton,” he said smiling manically, “it’s so nice to see you. You’re not scheduled for the treatment for several more weeks but since you are here we will go ahead and get started.

I tried to pull away but his grip was like steal, as if things could not get even weirder, the nameless executive’s neck started to swell far beyond what was humanly possible. That’s when his jaw extended like a python’s and something started to emerge from his mouth. Running on pure instinct with my free arm, I reared back and punched his neck with every ounce of strength of possessed. As I stepped back free of his grip the executive fell to the floor but struggled back up on his hands and knees. Again, on instinct I kicked him in the neck, which forced the thing in his neck to explode outward. This time both fell to the floor dead. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see that the creature that came out the executive’s body was the same type as those floating in the nearby aquariums.

For about a second I was lost as to what to do, but I quickly recovered and with a pocketknife I always carry, I stabbed the strange creature close to what I thought was the braincase. Then after wrapping it up in my sports coat, I ran back into the main corridor and as fast as possible left the building. A television station was my destination but as I passed the employee park with my now former coworkers all quietly sitting on the benches like powered-down drones I realized someone once said, “Sometimes paranoia’s just having all the facts.”