9. Simpson

We’re really in it now Lydecker thought as the door to operations slid closed behind him. That little “oh shit” voice in the back of his mind was starting to develop some bass. He shook his head, clearing the thought. The admin wing (to call it a wing was an overstatement if there ever was one) was in reality a handful of offices at the tail end of  a series of disused corridors, ostensibly held for visiting Weyland Yutani suits when they were on site - which they never were. Simpson had more-or-less claimed them as his own, mostly because no one ever went over there or cared enough to complain.

 Lydecker reached the junction to the administrative wing and came to an abrupt stop. The previously benign corridors of level 2 had suddenly taken on a malevolent quality. Loose papers were strewn about the hallway like someone had inadvertently left a window open during a storm. The trouble was the windows in Hadley’s Hope didn’t open. Lydecker willed himself forward, hoping that there had to be some kind of simple explanation, that Simpson would be sitting in his usual spot poring over reports and had just lost track of time. That happened sometimes. This time was different.

 The room was a complete mess. Wind and rain poured in from a gaping hole in the shatterproof window pane, which explained the papers in the hallway. The blinds were torn and streaked with gore. There was a half-eaten donut sitting next to a cup of coffee on the desk. It was an oddly serene sight amongst the chaos of the room. Lydecker dipped a finger automatically into the mug. It was the clear variety used for company meetings, not for rank and file employee use. It was still warm. There was no doubt that Al Simpson had been here, but he certainly wasn’t here now.

WIP TO BE CONTINUED