A Trip Away from Human Resources, in a big hurry.

This is the second part of a terribly long, probably unfulfilling post. It will either die on the vine, or evolve, and morph into something, I am just not sure what. If you want to come along for the ride, feel free. If you have any suggestions, let me know. If you would rather ignore the whole thing I would not blame you, but I don't advise, it might get better, and it is free. If you want to contribute that is fine too. I am very open minded.

The first part is here.Part 1, in case you missed it.

If Becky had gone from indifferently angry to casually sympathetic in the time it took to declare our naivete, and innocence the swing to savagely angry took even less time. She began hammering away at her key board. Each stroke a concussive slam echoing around the room, which seemed to be getting smaller, and darker. Darker everywhere except for the light above Becky, which grew brighter, and shifted along the spectrum ever so slightly to an almost Stygian red. Becky's hair and dress began to glow with an internal malevolence, and rage.

Her fingers banged mercilessly on the unfortunate keyboard, even when she turned a hateful, horrifying glare toward us. We looked away as best we could, and in a move that was both reassuring and unwelcome Joe gripped my hand, I could feel him shake with fright.

In the background there was a slight thumping. Almost completely hidden by Becky's vicious typing. It seemed to be coming from the side of her desk, the right side, the side I was setting on. I looked and there were little puffs of dust coming from the corners where the tiles intersected. Becky either did not notice or chose to ignore the interruption. I was grateful for something to think about that was not Becky's wrath, which seemed bottomless.

Soon, the floor caved in right where the puffs of smoke had been coming from.

Becky shrieked with an unnatural violence, and grabbed a wicked looking rifle from under her desk. As she wheeled to face the hole in the floor, a second hole opened on the left side of her desk and a man in a grey jumpsuit, with a name patch that read "Kevin" rocketed out of the hole and shot Becky in the forehead. The shot echoed around the room, and Joe and I grabbed our ears in pain, as Becky toppled over backward, oddly bloodless.

From the hole on my side of the desk, the right side, a man dressed in the same style grey, baggy jumpsuit whose name tag read "Billy" stood and screamed "quick, come with us. We only have a few seconds.

"You shot her." I stammered, trying to decide if I should run, check on Becky, or cry in terror. Crying seemed the best choice.

"It was just a bean bag round, we are non-violent," yelled Kevin.

"Non-violent?!?!  You shot her! In the head!" Joe was shaking and squeezing my hand so hard that it hurt. I didn't notice it though, still trying to decide if crying was the most rational action.

"OK, mostly non-violent." Billy said. "Look, we need to go. They will be here any second."

As if on cue the hallway outside the door started to rumble, and the room began to shake. I decided to cry in a few minutes, when I was someplace else.

We jumped in the hole, and found ourselves in a narrow, tall tunnel, Barely lit, and musty smelling, I imagined the insects and rodents waiting in both directions.

Kevin switched on a lamp on his pocket and started running. An explosion from above, followed by gunfire made the decision to follow a simple one.