transcript

Speaker 1:
[00:00] This episode is sponsored by BetterHelp. You don't always realize how much financial stress is affecting you until it starts showing up in other areas. Your sleep, your mood, even your relationships. I think a lot of us grow up with certain beliefs about money, like you're supposed to just figure it out on your own. And when things feel tight or uncertain, it can feel overwhelming fast. But struggling financially doesn't mean you failed. It just means you're dealing with something a lot of people are going through. Therapy can actually help you work through the anxiety, the pressure, and even the mindset you have around money. It's not about getting financial advice. It's about understanding how it's affecting you mentally. BetterHelp makes it easy to get started. They'll match you with a licensed therapist based on your needs. And if it's not the right fit, you can switch anytime. When life feels overwhelming, therapy can help. Sign up and get 10% off at betterhelp.com/dns. That's betterhelp.com/dns. A nurse who murdered patients with unprescribed insulin injections. A sadistic killer whose murder was inspired by the hit TV show, Dexter. These are just a couple of the dark true crime stories you'll hear each week on the Crime Hub Podcast. In each episode, I dive deep into new disturbing true crime stories, like the story of the religious cult Heaven's Gate, a group who convinced its followers to commit suicide in order to reach a level of existence above human. Disturbing true crime stories like these are what make the Crime Hub Podcast worth listening to. If you enjoy my horror stories, then you'll absolutely love my true crime stories. Go check it out today by searching Crime Hub in the search bar on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Amazon Music. Be sure to click Follow to get notified every time a new episode is released. I take a sip of the vending machine coffee and scald the shit out of my tongue, which is not a bad thing since the coffee tastes like crap. Burning my tongue probably saves me from the worst of the flavor. Nursing my tongue, I turn away from the vending machine and nearly scream. Hey there. An older man dressed in coveralls says, his hands tucked into his pockets. You're new. A name tag sits on his coveralls, but I can't quite make out what it says. The lettering is in flowing cursive script, and the flowing is almost literal as I stare at it. It's like the letters refuse to stay in their place. I rub my eyes and blink a few times, but it doesn't help. God, I'm tired. The older man snaps his fingers, bringing my eyes up to his. You got a name, new guy? He asks. Oh, right. Yeah. Sure. Sorry. I say and laugh. He just stares at me. Um, yes. My name's August, August Johns. Good to meet you, August Johns, the older man says, sticking out his hand. You can call me Denny. Nice to meet you too, Denny. Is that short for Dennis? Nah, just Denny. Huh. I've never met someone with the name Denny, who isn't a Dennis. You know a lot of Denny's, do you? No, not really. But I have met a couple here and there over the years. Good for you. He smiles, and I look around the break room, thinking of a way to make a quick exit without being rude. Go on, Augie, Denny says. I bet you have all sorts of work left to do before you can head home. I relax at being let off the hook. Yes, I do. Low man on the totem pole. I need to get three reports done by Friday, and I'm still learning the system here. They don't go easy on the new guy, do they? I smile and nod, then look toward the break room door. Well, I should get back to my office and keep working. Good idea. Walking away, I pause. No one's called me Augie since I was a kid. That's so. They just came to me. Knew a couple Augies in my day. Kind of like you knew some Denny's. Were they Augusts like me? They were Augies. I wait for him to continue, but Denny leaves it at that. So I nod, smile, and hurry back to my office. Shutting the door, I set my coffee on the front of my desk, then do a couple of twists at the waist, followed by a good long stretch. My arms reaching to the ceiling. There's a pop in my sternum, and I sigh. Without done, I sit at my desk and pull up the first report that I'm working on, an analysis of a small manufacturer that our company is looking to acquire. They make widgets. I'm still not sure what kind of widgets, though. The details are a little sketchy. Scrolling through the records, all I see are item numbers and case sizes, shipping manifests and inventory tallies. There are receipts for raw materials, but no descriptions of what those raw materials are. There are no descriptions of anything the company makes. Rubbing my temples with both hands, I try to make sense of it. How can a company have a bottom line just north of 3 million annually, but not detail exactly what they manufacture and sell? I sift through the files, hoping to find an explanation. There's a light knock at the door. Denny doesn't wait for me to answer, just opens it and peeks his head in. Just about midnight, he says, that smile of his plastered on his face. I glance at my phone and see that he's right. Thanks, I say. I should be done soon. Maybe. He stands there, only his head visible. Is there something else? I ask. Nope, just wanted you to know that it's almost midnight. HR told you about being here after midnight, right? HR? No. Is there some policy against working late? Do you need me to leave so you can clean? I'm no janitor. We have a cleaning service for that. I'm here for night maintenance. The after midnight kind. I frown. I don't know what that means. The after midnight kind of what? Maintenance. You'll either see or you won't. He ducks out, then sticks his head back in almost immediately. And, just in case, since it sounds like HR dropped the ball, do me a favor and stay away from the service elevator until after the sun rises, alright? Can you do that for me, Augie? This office has a service elevator? After midnight it does. Then he ducks out again, this time staying away. He doesn't close my door though, so I get up and walk over to close it. Bats want to hear the rumbling like a motor coming to life somewhere in the building. I pause, pull my office door open, and look out into the hallway. The rumbling is now joined by a clanging, a screeching of metal, and a high-pitched whine. What the hell was that? I mutter, then clear my throat and call out. Denny? What is that? Denny's nowhere to be seen. The noises get louder, so I step out of my office and follow him. The main office area is filled with three rows of four desks, twelve altogether, separated by low cubicle walls. Surrounding the cubicle desks are eight offices, four on each side of the room. I'm on the right side, far end, so I have to walk past three dark offices as I followed the strange sounds. At first, I think they are wholly mechanical in nature, but below that high-pitched whine is a low, soft hum that almost sounds like a big cat purring. I laugh at myself. What a stupid thought. Nothing is purring. Jesus, I must really be exhausted. I need more coffee. I should get a Keurig in my office. It'll be easier and tastier that way. There's a clang-crunch thud from somewhere in front of me. I pass the offices on my right, then turn into the side hallway passing by supply closets, the office's main bathrooms, some room labeled Mechanical, and one partially open door where I hear soft music coming from. I stop at the open door. The music is old, with horns and an orchestra, but not classical. More like that old big band swing style from the 1940s, the stuff they play in all those old World War II movies, where lonely GIs dance slowly with local girls, no one talking about the horrors they are experiencing in the world outside of where. Don't just stand there, Auggie. Come on in. Denny's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I have to blink and look around for a split second to get my bearings. What am I doing out of my office again? I said, come on in, Auggie. We should chat. Then the noises start up again, and it all comes back to me. I push open the door to see a small room filled almost entirely by a desk, chair, and filing cabinet. Behind the desk sits Denny, his hands folded in his lap as he leans back in his chair, his eyes watching me with a twinkle of amusement. Hey, Denny, didn't mean to intrude. Elevator gotcha, didn't it? I scrunch up my face, confused, and Denny laughs. Don't worry about it. It has that effect on some folks. You'll get used to it. Um, get used to what exactly? The elevator. The service elevator that I should avoid? Yep, that's the one. Take a seat. I look around, but there's no chair for me to sit on. Augie laughs and points to a folding stool resting against the wall. Reluctantly, I grab the stool, snap it open, and set it down in front of Denny's desk. Giving it a wary glance, I sit down and end up with half my ass hanging off. Denny just smiles. What happened to the music? I ask as I realize the big band tune has stopped. Music? He asks, still smiling. The old time music, like something my great grandparents would play. Did you know your great grandparents well, Augie? What? No, they died before I was even out of elementary school. Too bad. The older generations have a lot to teach you younger folks. I'm sure. I sit and wait. Denny smiles and watches. Was there something you wanted to tell me? I ask after several awkward seconds. Is there something you need to hear? I shake my head and stand up. I'm sorry, but I have a ton of work to get back to. Even with that ton of work, you still went looking for it even after I told you to avoid it. It being the service elevator, the one that isn't here yet is. That one? Oh, it's always here, Augie. It just doesn't show itself until midnight. You know how it goes. No, I don't think I do. I'm going to go back to my office now. Good luck with that. His smile doesn't fade as I quickly leave his small space. Door open or closed? I ask. Then I turn to face him, but he's gone. The music is back though. A long, mournful tune that brings to mind cold coastlines and thick dark clouds. Denny? No answer. I close the door and the music stops. Then I hurry in the direction of my office. But when I turn the hallways corner, I'm not in the main area with all of the cubicle desks. There are no offices lining each wall. It's just a blank hallway that seems to go on forever and ever. I blink a few times, and the length of the hallway shortens considerably. At the far end, almost hidden in shadow, I see a large sliding door. An elevator door, but much bigger than the ones that go down to the lobby. The service elevator. That purr is louder now, much louder. So are the clangs and bangs. So is the high-pitched whine. I feel an itch at the base of my skull, and I absent-mindedly start scratching at it as I take a step forward. No, I snap to myself, giving my head a hard shake to clear some of the strangeness away. I need to work. I stop scratching and let my hand fall away. Then I turn and round the corner, hoping that I simply got turned around. I'm right, and the cubicle desks are right there, friendly little cubicle squares I'm strangely relieved to see. I hurry my ass back to my office and close the door, resting my forehead against the wood grain for a moment as I take several deep breaths. That was weird. That was really weird. God, I'm tired. Picture this. It's late at night, you're scrolling, and suddenly you find exactly what you've been looking for. You add it to your cart, maybe browse a little more, then head to checkout, only to realize you don't have your wallet. But then you see it, that purple shop pay button, and just like that, you're done in seconds. That's the power of Shopify. It supports millions of businesses and drives 10 percent of all e-commerce in the US, from major brands like Mattel and Gymshark, to entrepreneurs just getting started. With Shopify, everything you need is in one place, from customizable store templates to built-in AI tools that help write product descriptions and enhance your images. It also makes marketing easy with integrated e-mail and social campaigns. And if you get stuck, Shopify's award-winning customer support is there for you 24-7. See less carts go abandoned and more sales go with Shopify and their Shop Pay button. Sign up for your $1 per month trial today at shopify.com/dns. Go to shopify.com/dns. That's shopify.com/dns.

Speaker 2:
[14:10] We all have that dream trip we've been wishing we could go on. But too often, life, or usually price, gets in the way. That's why Priceline is here to help you turn your dream trip into reality. With up to 60% off hotels and up to 50% off flights, you can book everything you need for your next adventure. Don't just dream about that next trip. Book it with Priceline. Download the Priceline app or visit priceline.com and book your next trip today.

Speaker 3:
[14:37] Go to your happy price, Priceline.

Speaker 1:
[14:40] I push away from the door and get back to work at my desk. Grabbing the vending machine coffee cup, I almost take a swig. When my eyes notice something floating on the top of the oily black liquid, I dip my finger in and hold it up.

Speaker 2:
[14:54] Old?

Speaker 1:
[14:55] I mumble. What the hell? The coffee is only a few minutes old. I check my phone to be sure, and yeah, I've only been gone from my office for about five minutes. Which can't be right. I was talking to Denny for longer than that, wasn't I? Get a grip, Augie. I mumble, then laugh. I haven't called myself Augie since before college. I was strictly an August man as an undergrad, trying to strip the childishness away. I get up to go toss the coffee away in the break room and get a fresh cup when an ear piercing scream rips through the office walls. The cup falls from my hand, spilling coffee and mold all over the carpet. But I don't care. The scream has all of my attention. I race for my office, look left, look right, and try to pinpoint the direction it's coming from. It's coming from the right, from the way I'd been earlier. Sprinting past the offices and cubicle desks, I get to the corner and don't even pause. I just run blindly into the hallway. There are no doors to the supply closets or the bathrooms. No door with the word mechanical stenciled on it, and no door with soft, old music coming out of it. Only smooth walls that lead down to a huge elevator door. A door where the screaming is coming from. Hello? I shout as I jog slowly toward the door. Should I have a weapon? That scream is making the hairs on my arms stand up. I should have a weapon. That would be a good idea. Maybe I should go back to my office and grab a... What? A desk lamp? My stapler? The tape dispenser? Help me! A woman shrieks from behind the elevator door. No time for a weapon. I sprint to the door and look for the call button. It's hard to see, like really hard to see. The panel it is on and the button itself have been painted with the same color as the paint wall.

Speaker 4:
[16:44] Can you God please?

Speaker 3:
[16:47] Someone help me!

Speaker 1:
[16:48] The woman cries. Hold on! I'm here! I shout as I go to press the button. A hand clamps around my wrist and spins me around. What you doing, Augie? Dunny asks. You're not messing with the service elevator, are you? Not after I specifically told you not to. There's a woman trapped in there and screaming for help. I exclaim. We need to get her out of there. Woman? What woman? Dunny asks, looking past me. He shakes his head, then fixes his semi-amused gaze back on me. I don't hear a woman. And he's right. The woman is silent, no more screaming. No, I heard her, I say and turn back to the elevator. Dunny grabs my shoulders and holds me in place. There was no woman, Augie. That's just the elevator. It'll bait you. Bait me? What does that even mean? For your sake, let's hope you never find out the hard way. Although you will find out sooner rather than later. Still holding me by the shoulders, he steers me away from the elevator, backing up while he leads me down the hallway. A hallway that now has doors for the bathrooms and the mechanical room and the supply closets. That's it, Augie, just keep walking. I quickly glance back over my shoulder. There's no elevator door, only a blank wall at the corner of another hallway. Where did it go? I ask and look back at Dunny. Dunny is gone, his hands are no longer gripping my shoulders. Even though I can swear I feel his fingers digging into my muscles. Dunny? I call out, no reply. Okay, I need to go home, I whisper, then double time it back to my office. Thankfully, the floor plan of the whole place doesn't change on me again. And when I take the corner, the cubicle desks and side offices are right where they are supposed to be. Racing past at all, I get to my office and slam the door closed. Then I rush to my desk and gather up all my personal items, my backpack, my jacket, my car keys. I log off my computer, thinking that I'll set my alarm and come in super early instead of staying here way too late. That'll work. I only need a couple more hours to sort out this first report, to figure out what the hell the widgets the small company is selling. If anyone asks why I don't have the reports done yet, I'll say I tried to work from home, but the remote connection kept getting cut off. Slipping my jacket on as I leave my office, I head the opposite direction I have been going for what feels like hours, and stride toward the reception area and the regular elevators. Or I try to. I come around the corner and see the doors for the bathrooms, the mechanical room, and the supply closets. Must have gotten turned around in here. Must have gotten turned around in my hurry to leave. I reverse directions and go back around the corner. It's the same scene. Bathrooms, mechanical room, supply closets. And what I guess is Denny's office, the door cracked, soothing music, coming from inside. I stomp over to the door and yank it open. What the hell is going on? I snap. Denny is behind his desk, playing solitaire with a deck of cards that looks like it'll turn to dust with a hard sneeze. Now that's a great question, Augie, Denny says. Not looking up from the cards. What do you think is going on? I asked you asshole. That stops him. Denny sets the remainder of the deck of cards next to the row he's already laid out. Then he looks up at me and he is not smiling. Asshole, why would you call me that, Augie? I've been helping you all night long. You've been wandering around this place for hours like some dingbat zombie. You almost got yourself hurt a couple of times, too. But I was there to save you each time. Each time? Hours? What are you jabbering about? It's barely past midnight. I pull my phone out of my pocket and shake it at him. See? Oh, I see. Do you? Of course I do! I pull the phone back and check the screen. Four thirty in the morning. Wait, what? Huh. Things not exactly as you thought they were, Auggie. Stop calling me that. My name is August. Fine. August. I think you owe me an apology, August. I want to argue. I want to shout. I want to throw my phone at the man. Rage bubbles up from my belly, ready to be unleashed. I could take that deck of cards and shove it down his throat, choking him to death. How would that be for an apology? Man, it has got a hold of you. Denny laughs. He scoops up all the cards and starts shuffling them together. His eyes on me the entire time. What's it doing now? What is what doing now? But it's a stupid question, because I can hear that purr and the clangs and the bangs and all that stuff. I also hear something else. Weeping? Crying? Is that a kid? I ask Denny. He sighs. Oh, it's showing you that. He sighs again. Well, I'm not surprised. It hasn't exactly gone easy on you tonight. He stands and rounds his desk, slipping past me like I'm a coat rack in his way. Come on, August. Time to learn why no one works late here. He's out his door before I can even think through what he just said. Then I'm scrambling to keep up as he walks down the long hallway that now has no doors again, except for the large elevator door at the far end. Denny is halfway there by the time I catch up. What are you going to show me? I ask. Nothing good, that's for sure, he replies. Without looking at me, his eyes fixed squarely on the elevator door, Denny grabs my bicep and squeezes. When I open the elevator, you stay behind me, and no matter what it says to you, what it promises, what deal it wants to make, you say nothing, you do nothing. Understood, August? Understood? No, I understand nothing. You can say that again. His grip gets tighter, bordering on painful. But I need you to understand just enough to do what I say. Stay behind me. Do not let it confuse you. Let what confuse me? The elevator? You're talking like it's a living thing, which is crazy, Denny. It's a damn elevator. Sure it is, August. Sure it is. And we're at the elevator door. But this time the button isn't hidden. It's right there on the wall in plain sight, and even backlit by a pulsing red glow. Cute, Denny says to the door. But he's not for you. I'm just teaching him, you hear? Not for you. What are... Denny holds up a finger, and I shut my mouth. Then he takes that finger and presses the elevator button, while also backing into me, forcing me to take several steps down the hallway, putting a good six feet between us and the elevator. The crying child noise gets louder and louder until the elevator doors slide open, revealing nothing. Just a service elevator with an oversized space so that office furniture and large pieces of equipment can be shuttled up and down the building. It's empty, I say. Is it? I take a step, looking to move around Denny for a better look, but he grabs my arm and yanks me back behind him. What did I say, August? Say behind me! The tone in his voice demands that I obey despite my sudden curiosity. A curiosity that grows as what I thought was a shadow in the corner of the service elevator's car suddenly shifts a little.

Speaker 4:
[24:50] What the hell is that?

Speaker 1:
[24:52] I whisper.

Speaker 4:
[24:53] Spring Black Friday is on at the Home Depot. Save on grills and patio sets that will be sure to bring your hosting game up a notch. Fire up your feasts with help from the Home Depot and save on grills. Like the next grill for burner propane gas grill was $249, now on special buy for $199. Or give everyone the best seat in the yard with the Hampton Bay Mayfield Park four-piece conversation set for only $399. Save on grills and patio sets with low prices guaranteed during Spring Black Friday, only at the Home Depot, now through April 22nd, while supplies last. Exclusions applies to homedepot.com/pricematch for details.

Speaker 3:
[25:23] K-Pop Demon Hunters, Saja Boys Breakfast Meal, and Huntrix Meal have just dropped at McDonald's. They're calling this a battle for the fans. What do you say to that, Rumi?

Speaker 2:
[25:32] It's not a battle. So glad the Saja Boys could take breakfast and give our meal the rest of the day.

Speaker 1:
[25:37] It is an honor to share.

Speaker 3:
[25:39] No, it's our honor. It is our larger honor. No, really, stop. You can really feel the respect in this battle. Pick a meal to pick a side.

Speaker 1:
[25:50] Ba-da-ba-ba-ba.

Speaker 2:
[25:51] I participate in McDonald's while supplies last.

Speaker 1:
[25:53] I hear the child crying again. It's actually a whimper more than a cry. A sad child, not a hurt child. Hello, Danny, the voice says.

Speaker 2:
[26:03] Who do you have with you?

Speaker 1:
[26:05] You know who I have with me. You've been talking to him all night long. Have I? I don't think so. Cut the crap. If I weren't here, you'd have gobbled him right up. Hunger. Pure hunger. There's silence for a second. Then the child, or shadow, or elevator, or whatever it is, sighs. I don't know about here. The elevator doors close, and Danny lets out a long breath. Well, that's the service elevator. You got lucky. It was pretty talkative tonight. I gasp in a breath, not realizing I hadn't been breathing during that whole conversation. Lucky? I feel like I'm losing my mind. I wouldn't call that lucky. I look around, panic rising in me. How do I get out of here? I want to go home, get some sleep, and forget all this crazy shit even happened. Leave? Hmm, about that. Danny walks off. I hurry after him. About what? I ask, barely keeping up with the old man. We turn the corner, and I see the cubicle desks. Okay, good. Back on familiar ground. Danny leads me to my office and blocks my way. How are the reports coming? He asks, stopping me before I can move around him and step into my own office. They making sense? Making sense? Not really. I mean, the numbers add up, but there is a serious lack of information. I can't tell what the company we're looking at even makes. Widgets. Yeah, I saw that. But what kind of widgets? What exactly do they manufacture? So the reports aren't going well. They would be if I had all the information. Denny pats my arm. Oh, the information is there. You just can't see it. Can't see it? What? The information? Why? Is it privileged or something? Is there an NDA I need to sign? Uh, no. But there is something you should watch. He moves aside, pointing into my office. There is now a rolling cart with an old tube-style TV on it, and an honest-to-god VCR on a shelf under it. Where the hell did that come from? I step in to examine the antiquated equipment. HR, Denny says. Just watch. We'll talk after. He closes the door. I don't hear him walk away, but when I yank the door open, he's not there. I'm not surprised. I turn back to the cart. There is a sticky note on the VCR. Predictably, it says, Press play. Bounce the button with the little sideways triangle on it. I close my office door, cross to the cart, press that little sideways triangle, which I know is the play button, because it's the same damn symbol on everything now, and lean my hip against the front of my desk as the TV turns on, and a burst of static fills the screen. Then the static clears, and there's an image of a man smiling at me. Hello. He says in waves. From all of us in HR, I want to thank you for being here today. You have made quite an impression so far, and we look forward to many, many fruitful years with you. The man is in his late 40s and dressed in a sweater with a very bright and complicated pattern on it. I think I saw my grandfather wearing the same sweater in old photos. While I am sure you have many questions, just know that in time, they will mostly be answered. He winks exaggeratedly. Mostly. I want to shout, what does that mean? But I have already shouted that a lot tonight, and so far, no meaning has appeared. He continues. I mean, pass all tests with flying colors. This is madness, a joke that Denny is playing on me. I reach out and stop the videotape, or try to. It refuses to stop or pause or even rewind. The man from HR just keeps smiling and talking. Pretty darn noble of you, right? Um, no, I say to the TV. It doesn't sound noble at all. It sounds absolutely bonkers. You may think this is crazy, but if you are sitting before me now, then you have already witnessed a taste of the true madness that afflicts our great city. He leans in close, and I swear he's about to crawl out of the TV set. And that affliction is hungry service elevators. Every building has one, but not every building has someone in charge of night maintenance. We don't have that problem, because we have you. He gives me a big thumbs up, then leans back. Now, get out there and tame that monster that wants nothing more than to eat you, body and soul. Remember, we're counting on you. Don't mess this up. Bye. The TV clicks off, and the VCR stops playing. It ejects the tape, which disintegrates before my eyes. You've got questions, Denny says from the office door. Making me yelp and jump. Sorry. I pointed the TV and VCR. Was that for real? I ask. Yeah, it was. It is. He sighs. Now, come with me, and we'll get things handed over. Listen, Denny, I don't know what kind of joke you think you're playing on me, but it's not cool. I'm going to go home and sleep. Hell, I might even call in sick tomorrow. Yeah, your sick days are over. Just follow me, will you? He walks away, giving me no choice but to follow him if I want to figure out what's happening. We pass the cubicle desks and the side office. We turn the corner and pass the bathrooms, supply closets, and mechanical room. We stop at Denny's office, and he gestures for me to go inside. The second I do, I can tell things have changed. For one thing, the music is now playing an ambient tune by a band I like that only came out a few years ago. Also, the desk is different. In fact, it's the exact desk from my office, the one I had just been leaning against as I watched that insane HR video. You redecorated, I say. Denny laughs. I didn't, but I'm glad you noticed. It means they weren't wrong in picking you. Sure, you're the first one in forever who can see the service elevator and hear the voices, but that doesn't always mean you're compatible for the job. What job? He smiles sadly. Come on, one last stop. He leads me out of the office and down the hallway. We turn another corner, and there it is, the service elevator. The door is pulsing and flexing like it's breathing. When we get close, Denny doesn't warn me to stay back. He doesn't say to be careful or not to listen to the many voices echoing out from behind the elevator door. Now, instead, he unzips his coveralls and steps out of them, leaving him, well, stark naked. Damn, Denny, I say and turn away. Look at me, Augie. I keep my eyes averted. August, I said to look at me. I swivel my neck and look at him. He points at the coveralls on the floor. Put those on. No way. You were going commando in them. That's what it looks like, yes. But you'll see that those are now brand new coveralls. Pick them up and put them on. I hesitate. Put them on, Augie. I bend down and pick up the coveralls, pinching them between my thumb and forefinger. Then I give them a good once-over. They do look brand new. So I take a risk and sniff them. They don't smell like old man crotch. They smell freshly washed. Keep those on at all times, Augie, and you'll be fine. That's how this works for some reason. You wear those coveralls and it won't get you. You still have to make sure it doesn't get others. He reaches back and presses the elevator call button. And you'll have to feed it occasionally. Don't worry, HR will pick out the meals. It'll mostly be employees who have plateaued and now require coming in early, working through lunch, and staying late to get their work done. Employees who don't have family or friends worry about them when they go missing. The elevator dings and the doors slide open. Past Denny, I can see the darkness and the shadows undulating like sentient smoke. Do your job and everything will go just fine. Now put those on. I don't hesitate this time. I slip into the coveralls and zip them up. I look down and see my name embroidered on the name tag. A feeling of power, of strength comes over me. And I smile as I look up at Denny, except he's not standing in front of me anymore. I catch a quick glimpse of him waving from inside the elevator before the door closes. Bye! I wave back, even though Denny is gone. That ambient music coming from my new office gets louder and louder, calling me to my next task, whatever that may be. I'm glad that the music is so loud, because it almost drowns out the chewing noise I hear coming from the elevator shaft. As I get to my office, I wonder who they'll hire to figure out the whole damn widget mess in that report. At least I know it's not going to be me. That's not my job anymore. I'm night maintenance. Thanks for tuning in. If you enjoyed the story, be sure to follow or subscribe and share the show with a fellow horror fan. I'll see you in the next one.