The Contents

The darkness swallowed everything. Sarah stood frozen, her breathing shallow, her hands still clutching the edges of the case she had just opened. Her flashlight flickered weakly in her hand, struggling to pierce the void. A faint hum filled the air, low and electric, sending vibrations through the floor and into her legs.

The case was open, but her eyes couldn't adjust fast enough to make out its contents. She fumbled for the flashlight, angling the beam downward. The weak cone of light finally landed on the interior of the case.

Inside was a small black device, about the size of a deck of cards, with a single glowing red button. No labels. No markings. Just the button, pulsing softly, like a heartbeat.

Sarah's breath hitched. What the hell was this?

Her phone buzzed in the original case. She grabbed it, the screen flashing a message that made her stomach drop:

Press the button.

Her fingers hovered over the red button, her instincts screaming at her to leave, to toss the case aside and run. But where would she go? She could still feel eyes on her, hidden in the shadows. The timer on her phone continued to tick: 39:32.

"What happens if I don't?" she whispered aloud, her voice trembling. The room didn't answer.

She glanced around the space again, her flashlight revealing only the towering machines and rusting beams. Her pulse hammered as she forced herself to lower her hand toward the button.

Before her finger could make contact, the sound of metal scraping against concrete cut through the air.

Sarah whipped around, the flashlight's beam darting wildly across the room. A faint metallic screech echoed again, this time closer. Her chest tightened as she swept the light across the machines, searching for the source of the noise.

"Who's there?" she called out, her voice cracking. It wasn't bravery that made her speak it was the unbearable silence that followed every sound. She couldn't take it.

The scraping sound stopped abruptly.

Her flashlight landed on something. Just for a moment. A shadow darting between two machines. Too tall to be a rat. Too fast to be human.

Sarah stumbled back, her legs bumping against the table. She gripped the edge of the metal surface for support, the cases now feeling more like anchors than lifelines. Her flashlight trembled as she swept it toward the corridor she'd entered from.

The door was no longer visible. The darkness had swallowed it whole.

The phone buzzed again. She jumped, her heart nearly leaping out of her chest as the screen glowed with another message:

Press the button. Now.

Her breaths came in short gasps as she turned back to the case. The red button pulsed faster, as though it were alive, demanding her attention. The scraping sound returned, this time accompanied by a faint, rhythmic clicking.

Footsteps.

Not hurried, but deliberate. Calculated. Getting closer.

Her trembling hand shot toward the button, slamming it down without hesitation. The device let out a faint chime, like the first note of a song, and the hum that had filled the room grew louder. The floor beneath her vibrated, and the shadows seemed to shift, retreating toward the edges of the room.

Then, light. Blinding white light flooded the space, erasing every shadow and making Sarah shield her eyes with her arm.

When the glare finally faded, the room came into focus. The machinery that had loomed around her now looked clean, polished. The rust was gone, replaced by gleaming metal. The air no longer smelled of mildew but carried a faint metallic tang. And in the center of the room, where the second case had been, stood a figure.

Sarah's breath caught in her throat.

The figure was tall, its face obscured by a smooth black mask. Its body was clad in a suit that looked like it belonged in a sci-fi film sleek, angular, and lined with faintly glowing lines of blue light. It stood motionless, hands at its sides, as though it had been waiting for her.

"Whoâ€"who are you?" Sarah stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

The figure tilted its head slightly, the movement unnervingly precise. It raised a hand, pointing directly at her.

The phone buzzed again. Sarah tore her eyes from the figure to look at the screen. The message was stark and immediate:

Take the second case. Leave now.

She hesitated, glancing back at the figure. It hadn't moved, but the air between them felt charged, as though an invisible thread tethered them together. The hum in the room grew louder, more insistent, vibrating through her chest.

The timer on her phone continued to tick: 37:48.

She swallowed hard and reached for the second case. The moment her fingers touched the handle, the figure lowered its hand and stepped forward.

Sarah's heart lurched. She yanked the case off the table and stumbled back, her flashlight dropping to the floor with a clatter. The beam spun wildly, casting erratic shadows across the walls.

The figure moved again, faster this time, each step eerily silent despite the heaviness of its appearance. Sarah turned and ran, the case banging against her side as she sprinted toward where she thought the door might be.

The phone buzzed in her hand, but she didn't dare look at it. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she barreled through the corridor, the flickering lights overhead guiding her path.
The footsteps behind her grew louder, closer.

She didn't dare look back.

Her shoulder slammed into the door at the end of the hall, the impact jolting the breath from her lungs. She fumbled for the handle, yanking it open just as the hum behind her reached a deafening pitch. The rain hit her like a wave as she stumbled out onto the street, her legs barely supporting her weight.

She turned back, expecting to see the figure emerging from the doorway, but the building was dark again. The door she'd just come through was gone, replaced by a solid wall of rusted metal.

The phone buzzed. She looked down, her hands shaking.

Drive. Now.

The timer continued: 35:21.