Deathly Dreams

I yelled and woke with a start. Sweat dripped down my face. My breathing was hard and desperate. I could have sworn I had just been falling. The stickiness of sleep meddled with the cogs of my mind. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the gloom of my bedroom and I found myself alone, safe and warm. No danger here. My heart rate slowed and I chuckled nervously. Soon all fear had seeped from my mind and all memory of my dream had faded. I rolled out of bed and shivered. Quickly I pulled on a sweater and put on my furry slippers. It was cold in this cabin in the middle of the forest. Although internal plumbing and an electric generator had been added, there was still no central heating. This did not bother me much because I always enjoyed having an excuse to light the fire in the living room. I absolutely loved traditional fireplaces. 

I was whistling happily in the kitchen, sipping on a glass of cold water as I poured fresh coffee beans into my electric grinder. The sound and smell of coffee being ground always left me feeling content. As my coffee brewed in my French press I cracked two eggs into a bowel and began to whisk. Fifteen minutes later I carried a steaming hot cheese omelet and large mug of coffee out onto my front veranda. I stood in the open doorway, surveying the beauty of the outdoors in the early morning light. The air was cold and fresh; pregnant with complex mixtures of pine and lavender scents. I looked up to see the sky was a deep blue and devoid of all clouds. The thin, dark silhouettes of the trees that surrounded the cabin stood silent and ominous in the soft half-light of the morning. White coats of frost sparkled and melted on the grass as the sun climbed and brightened. I could hear the distant sound of the stream and the call of morning birds. I sighed deeply with satisfaction and sat down on my wooden chair. This is what I loved more than anything. More than the city that bustles and bursts with busy human lives. More than squeezing myself between strangers on the underground train. More than the sickening smell of the streets and the soulless lack of any natural sounds. In the city there were no crickets, no owls, no frogs. Out here there was an abundance of beauty. The trees were so patient and still. So very different from the rushed, ill-mannered commuters I had as my usual morning partners. I definitely preferred the trees. I took another deep breath. I blew on the steam that rose from my coffee mug and sipped cautiously. The coffee was rich and delicious and scalding hot. Perfect. I began to eat my omelet letting the serenity of nature continue to wash over me. My mood had not been so elated for many months and I was seriously thinking that I should move here full-time. Currently I was working as an English teacher and had decided to come out here to work on my novel and take a break from the city. From my life. Once my excellent breakfast was complete I walked back inside and decided to start a fire to warm up the cabin. As I stooped to check the small wicker basket near the fireplace, that should contain the dried firewood, my eyebrow arched when I found the basket empty. Huh? I could have sworn it was half-full yesterday. Puzzled but not at all alarmed I picked up the basket. Soon I put on my large, worn black coat and made my way outside. 

The frosted ground crunched under my large leather boots as I waded through the woods. Finding dry branches for the fire would be fairly difficult at this time of day as most of the ground was damp by now. However, my plan was just to dry them out in the oven before I used them. After spending a few minutes stooping to inspect sticks of various sizes and dampness I finally filled the basket. “Ok, time to go home.” I muttered eagerly as I rubbed my hands together. The air was still cold enough to make my breath visible and I rubbed my hands together. Suddenly I stopped. My eyebrows furrowed. I did not recognize where I was. But how? I had been exploring the woods for days now and not one time had I gotten lost. My eyes darted back and forth and my head swiveled in confusion. Very soon a creeping panic began to climb from my stomach up into my lungs. My heart began to thump loudly. I looked up at the sun, the voice of my old man ringing in my mind, “Learn to navigate by the stars and sun and you’ll never lose your way”. I smiled, remembering his warm eyes and loud laughter. I missed him. I closed my eyes, concentrating. “Ok, that must be East, so that means I should walk…” I stretched out my arm and hand, index finger pointed. I turned on my heel. “North. That way.” 

After a few moments I found my path blocked by a sudden sheer drop. I was facing an enormous quarry. My face blanched. “What… where the hell did this come from?” Again, panic seeped into my blood. “There aren’t any bloody quarries around here!” I moved forward to peek over the edge and peered down. The drop must be at least fifteen meters! I looked from left to right and saw no stairs or bridges. How the hell was I supposed to get across? My confusion grew and grew. Suddenly I froze. There, lying at the very bottom of the quarry, just near the cliff’s bottom, was a mangled body. The light in the sky was still too young to properly illuminate the quarry’s depths, but I could tell it was a body! My eyes bulged and my mouth opened wide with astonishment. “Jesus! Hello? Are you okay down there?” I yelled. Nothing but cold silence pressed against my ears. Suddenly I noticed a path that I had not seen before. It started to my right and wound down the slope before me. Quickly I started hurrying down towards the person; maybe I could still help? Soon I was at the bottom and I ran up to the body that lay still on the ground. As I got closer and the sun grew brighter I stopped dead. The body that lay crumpled at my feet was – me. “No way. There is just absolutely no way!” I shouted. I trembled as I took a step backward. My foot slipped on a large stone and I felt myself begin to fall to the ground.

Suddenly I yelped and my legs kicked out. I blinked in the sudden darkness and found myself on my sofa in the cabin’s living room. “What the hell? It was just a dream?” I said out loud as I sat up. I felt the softness of the couch cushions beneath me, I could smell the citrus scents leftover from the wash I’d given them recently. I stood up, my breathing still fast. The large windows showed a stormy afternoon. Rain pelted the glass heavily and the wind howled loudly. “What the hell? It was just a dream?” I repeated. I checked my watch. It was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon. I raked my brain, trying to figure out what was happening. But the details of my dream were fading. “I was in the forest looking for firewood. Then I found that body in that quarry.” It had been so real. I felt quite disoriented. Was I truly awake now? Or still asleep? And that body? What had been so terrible about it? The dream had already seeped away. I couldn’t remember. Still confused I made my way quickly towards the front door. Just as I opened it there was a deafening peal of thunder and a bright fork of lightning lit up the darkling sky. My mouth dropped open. There, just beyond the veranda, as if it had always been there, was the quarry. That cliff! I closed my mouth. “But… how…” Ignoring the icy rain, I walked towards the edge and once again peeked over. In the cold light of another flash of lightening and rumble of thunder, I saw my own body twisted and broken on the ground below. I gasped. My mind reeled. My heart fluttered. “What is going on?” I yelled looking around for some sort of explanation. When I looked back down again my face turned white. The body, my body, was gone. Suddenly I felt the eyes of a stranger on my back. A feeling of dread crept up my spine. A twig snapped. I spun around. 

I stood face to face with my shadow. But he did not look like me. Not exactly. Darkness coated his body like a skintight suit and I could not tell what he was wearing. He may have even been naked for all I know. I could see most of his face and hair, but his eyes were cloaked entirely in semi-circles of shadow which fell below each of his brows. He seemed utterly unconcerned about the storm. “You poor thing. You poor, wretched thing.” When he spoke, his voice was not mine. It was deep and commanding, yet gentle. His words came out slow and calm, almost lulling, “I caught you as you fell. You have made a half-choice. You can be at peace forever. But you must choose now.” He stretched out a tenebrous hand and pointed toward the edge of the cliff. Suddenly I noticed something new appear in his hands. It was a book. It was my book. The one I had been writing. Had I already finished it? Or had I just started? He turned to one of the middle pages and read, “‘Life is the antithesis of peace. Death is the antithesis of suffering.’” He snapped the book closed and turned again to face me, “How trite. Yet, so often the plainest truths are. All you want is peace, is it not? You are right in thinking that life can never provide this.” A cold smile curled his lips. “Even the living forests you so admire are crawling with suffering and conflict. Even the trees that appear so peaceful, so still, are wordlessly fighting each other for light. Racing against each other to claim their own space. It is the nature of the living to struggle.” Confusion fought with terror in my mind. I stammered. “I…I don’t understand. What is this place? Who are you?” Suddenly the man robed in darkness leapt at me and clasped my wrist, “You know who I am”. Small crimson lights flared to life like ignes fatui in the depths of his sockets. He began to pull me towards the edge. “No! Wait!” I shouted, digging my heels into the wet grass. But he was too strong. He snarled, “Isn’t this what you wanted?” and before I could stop myself I was crying from desperation. Then with a strength that could not be human he lifted me above his head, and threw me over the side of the quarry. Lightning flashed as the air rushed through my hair. I screamed as I plummeted to my death.

I yelled and woke with a start. I heard the soft beeping of monitors. I felt the scratchy linens of a hospital bed beneath me. Pain followed swiftly and exploded through my limbs. My voice was croaky and dry as I spoke, “Where…what the hell…what happened?”  A nurse rushed to my side. “It’s alright love, you’ve ‘ad a bit of a tumble. Doctor’s got you all sorted. Just rest now”. Her voice was warm and comforting, like a cup of tea. 

My memory returned to me slowly. My family did not own any cabin in the forest. The day of the accident I had been jogging in the woods and took my usual route near the abandoned quarry. I remember exactly what had happened. For a long time, I have been overwhelmed with my work and underwhelmed with my life. I wanted nothing more than to finish my novel and bail on all my teaching responsibilities. My father had also recently died after a long and horrible fight with cancer and it was the first time I realized that at my age life stops providing and starts taking. I realized that soon all those things, all those people, I could once rely on were not going to last forever. An invisible fire was lit in my flesh and I felt my time was rapidly running out. 

I jogged far, leaving the city limits. As I stood at the edge of that quarry, panting, my sadness hanging on me heavily, I had, for a moment, contemplated jumping. I had thought about it often before. As I stared down, I imagined my broken body at the bottom of the cliff. Then, like in all my low moments, I let the cold inhumanness of the universe fill me up. With my eyes closed all I could hear was my mother crying over my father’s corpse. All I could hear were the endless calls from the funeral home asking for their money. All the constant knocking of debt collectors on our door. All I could see were the endless medical bills flooding the postbox. All I felt was loneliness. A horrible, unrelenting, unsolvable loneliness. I had no great love, no amazing career, and my writing would never be good enough to publish. All I could feel was the gaping hole my father had left behind. It hurt. For just a moment I convinced myself I did not belong here anymore. My lips trembled. I walked right up to the edge. I felt my sadness swell in my chest.  I clenched my fists tightly. I imagined taking a single step forward. It would be so easy. I imagined the air rushing past me. Falling to my doom. I imagined the horrible pain of the impact. But I also imagined the peace that would come after. A peace I craved. I imagined a picturesque cabin in the woods. A beautiful fireplace. A shelter from the city. A place where I could rest. It was in that moment of contemplative despair, before I could fully commit to the act, that the old unstable ground of the quarry crumbled beneath my feet and I had slipped from the edge and fell. Only the shadows were there to catch me.

Recovery was slow. My mother and sister came to visit me multiple times and made the stay at the hospital bearable. How many dreams had I had? How much had I awoken and then re-awoken? Could I be sure I was truly awake now? As I pondered this I tried to remember. But all I could recall was that very last dream. Those dark horrible eyes. The terror of that very last fall. In that moment, I had realized what I wanted. Now I felt rejuvenated in a way I had not felt for many years. The exhaustion of my spirit had finally been ameliorated. I actually looked forward to getting out of bed. I actually wanted to go to school again. My passion for teaching was reignited. Soon after my recovery I even managed to get my novel published but did not make much money.

Many years have passed since my fall and I’m in my 60s now and retired and have never married. I now know that those dreams were not just dreams. That phantom I confronted has remained with me. Whenever the stresses of life pile up and I become fatigued, he comes to me. He still waits for me. He is real. I see his eyes covered in shadow. Tiny pinpricks of red-light flicker therein. At first, I only saw him rarely; glimpses in dreams. As time went on and I grew older and weary of the world once more I began to see him in the corner of my room every night. What’s worse was that in those moments when I feel the lowest I find myself craving the solitude of that cabin. The peace it brought with it. All this I craved despite the price.

Last week I attended my mother’s funeral. It was a small affair, most of her friends having died many years before. I saw my sister there with her husband and children. They are so happy and full of life. I feel a pang of jealousy but also relief. My life was always to be a solitary one. My sister and I cried during the service. When we chatted later we tried in vain to comfort each other. I returned alone to my home in London while she returned home with her husband and children to Edinburgh. I missed her a great deal too. I often thought about our growing up together.

Since the funeral I see him constantly now. Often his shadow-hidden hand stretches out and he holds a revolver. But he does not mean to shoot me. No. He holds the revolver’s ivory handle toward me. Sometimes he holds out a hangman’s noose. Sometimes it’s a long, ornate dagger. Most recently he holds out a canister of helium gas. And a plastic bag for my head. Each time he does this I resist him. Sometimes, when I’m alone, I even yell at him to leave. His face remains dark, stony and enigmatic. 

None of this would scare me quite so much if I had not just realized one terrible detail. What turns my blood to ice from fear is that every time I see him he is infinitesimally closer. How had I not noticed before? Perhaps it was a kindness. Gooseflesh runs down my neck as I see him standing insidiously in my cold bedroom. He is near the edge of my bed now. He is patient and has respected my choice so far. Nevertheless, he holds out that same revolver. That same noose. That same dagger. I tremble with fright because I know I will not be able to resist him much longer. Perhaps soon I’ll know if this was all a dream too.

The Wall

I’m trapped. I can hear that thing lumbering through the hallway. My God, what the hell is it? I’m trying my best to keep quiet but I can’t help but whimper. The soft scratching of my pencil on this notepad sounds deafening in the quiet of this tiny closet.  I’m almost certainly gonna die in this place. I just hope someone can find this, maybe it will do some good. Or maybe it already doesn’t matter. I’m not sure how long I have until that wheezing thing finds me. Oh God, or that grey stuff might ooze under the door and dissolve me. Oh my God! What it did to Benny, Bill, Jonesy and Donald! To all of them! Even if I don’t survive, the world needs to be warned!

 Long story short, I was a cop but I got shot in the head. The doctors said I was lucky, that it went straight through without hitting anything vital. However, I still needed three steel plates to hold my fragmented skull together. Also ended up with permanent tremors in my right hand from brain damage. So it’s no surprise that my cop career didn’t thrive. Just a year later I was a “retired” 45-year-old cop, living on scraps. After a few months, I started to get desperate for work. One evening at my pub, my friend, Graham, mentioned an acquaintance who was looking for employees for some private research institute in the Mojave Desert. “What, are they still blowing A-bombs out there?” I scoffed, eyebrows arched with bemused incredulity. Graham stared down at his beer, “Not sure what the hell they do. But they pay super well, so who cares,” he took a long sip of beer, foam clinging to his lips, “I think it would be a good fit for you”.

Turns out this facility, and it really is known as the “Facility”, was located in the middle of nowhere. When I looked it up online I couldn’t find any information. Later that week I called the number that Graham had scrawled down for me on a beer stained napkin. My right hand was useless to me if I wanted it to do anything that required fine motor function, so when I dialed the number on my phone I had to use my left hand. The phone rang twice before a metallic feminine voice answered and said to hold for an operator. After a few seconds of muted elevator music, I spoke to a soft voiced man who told me my skill set was perfect for their current vacancy: a security management position. He said if I filled out some forms they would pay for me to fly on out for an interview in person.

One month and several NDAs later, I was employed again! By the time I started my new job I realized I had no idea what research went on down here. During the interviews my duties as a security manager had been discussed but any mention of their actual research interests had been carefully avoided, redacted or omitted. The security staff were also told to avoid fraternizing with anyone not from their own department, including security personnel from other sections of the Facility. On my first day I asked others about the nature of the Facility’s research, but no one had any interest. “Just stick to your contract. No point in rocking the boat,” my new boss, Bill, said to me curtly. So since then I’ve not discussed it with anyone else.

 If only I had, maybe I would have seen this coming. The section of the Facility which I managed was section B.15. This area, like most of the core Facility, was located several hundred feet below the sun scorched surface of the Mojave Desert and comprised many green painted corridors peppered with tall, wide doors made from dark, stainless steel. The rooms inside were large and sterile. Artefacts were cleaned and studied in these rooms after they were brought from the excavation sites (sites E.1 through E.27). Of course, whether we wanted to know the nature of the research or not, eventually, after patrolling some of the research labs for weeks, it wasn’t difficult to figure out that the scientists were mostly archeologists or paleontologists. I would often find objects of different sizes and shapes lying around in various states of cleanliness. Some looked like ancient amphoras, or large stone bird baths. Others were less identifiable: a chipped statue, a melted lump of some unidentifiable metal or large chunks of a glass-like material. I found this all extremely curious because, as far as I knew, the Mojave Desert didn’t have much in the way of ancient architecture. At least of any ancient civilization that I know.

As the months went by I started to get friendly with the other guards, most of them ex-cops too, and we started playing cards and drinking Irish coffee in the evenings. My two main colleagues consisted of a jovial, short man with orange hair named Jonesy and a much older much grumpier and much balder man, Donald. They were good men and we had a lot of laughs together. My stomach twists when I think about where they are now. Though I grew fonder of my fellow guards, I found myself developing a severe dislike for the white coated researchers. Most of them were pernicious and arrogant. The only scientist my security buddies and me could stand was a scrawny man named Benny. Our favorite thing about Benny was that he never talked about his work.

It was earlier today, at around 1400h, when all the scientists were running from their rooms. They must have received some message a few minutes before and we watched them from the surveillance monitors as they got all excited and leapt up. Their lab coats flapped and flowed around as they jumped to their feet and made for the main exit. Soon after this the large red landline phone near my video surveillance desk began to ring. Expecting the call, I picked up the receiver before the first ring finished, “Hey boss, what’s all the excitement about?” Bill’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant “The diggers have found a friggin’ huge object out here! The biggest thing they’ve ever dug up, it’s really irregular. They want to bring it to B.15 and I need you to organize the logistics and security”. My brow furrowed, “I guess it’s too big for the main entrance? Maybe we could bring it in via the big doors of the auxiliary hangar?” Bill grunted with agreement, “Yea, we’ll have to improvise a bit but should be manageable. I have no idea what it is… well you’ll see for yourself. I’ll get some of the boys from B.14 to help you out. And just, well…” He paused for a moment, “just be careful.” I grunted, my eyebrow arched from surprise; why was he so afraid? “Um thanks, appreciate it, see you guys soon”.

Donald, Jonesy and I had coffee in the office and called the guards at the hangar doors to arrange clearance. About an hour later we were at the platform near the doors waiting for the cargo to arrive. The massive metal hangar doors had been opened, which was rare. What was more irregular was that nearly every staff member from sections B.11 to B.18 were all gathered together in a silent knot of people. Despite the silence the air sizzled with anticipation, as well as the searing heat. I stood transfixed from curiosity at the massive doorway, waiting in the shade of the hangar as the relentless sun beat down outside. In the distance I saw a black speck grow larger against the bright blue sky. Slowly it took the form of a helicopter which was carrying a large rectangular shaped mass below it.

Within less than a minute the helicopter made its cacophonous approach toward the hangar and gently lowered the object onto an enormous wooden scaffold. I barked orders and signed forms as the guards rushed about, making sure the other personnel stayed a safe distance away. The air was blaring with the sound of the helicopter blades and sand rocketed into my face, forcing me to splutter. “Alright, let’s get this thing processed!” I yelled over the sound of the helicopter as its engines powered down, my colleagues and I wiped dirt from our faces. Bill emerged swiftly from the chopper and shook my hand. We quickly reviewed the paper work he gave me and then he made his way back downstairs to his office in section B.1. He was keen to get away for some reason.

“Alright, it’s officially in my care now. Show’s over. Get the non-essential personnel out of here immediately and secure the object. I want to get Benny up here to analyze it ASAP.” As my colleagues cleared away most of the staff and the excitement died down I was finally able to take a moment to inspect the object. It had been lowered onto the wooden scaffold fitted with wheels just outside the hangar and had been pushed slowly into the center. The few aircraft in this hangar were all currently under repairs and were non-operational, therefore there was plenty of space. As soon as I saw the sheer size of the object, I knew it would be difficult to transport, but not impossible. The object was a wall. Or a large fragment of a wall.

It was about twenty feet long, eight feet thick and ten feet high. At first the wall appeared made from some sort of boring grey stone. However, when I looked closer the wall was… alive. The wall’s surface bubbled slightly. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I stepped closer. When I was only a few inches away from it I felt cold. A bead of sweat ran down my cheek and I thought I heard something. It sounded like someone far away calling my name.

I felt a strange pressure around my head. A sudden invasive thought wormed to life: throw yourself into the wall. I shuddered and held myself back despite the sudden strong desire. I heard the faint voice of Benny and crashed back to reality. My eyes snapped open and I found my nose an inch away from the wall. It radiated cold like an open freezer and it smelled like rotting clay. The surface of the wall simmered ever so slightly. It reminded me of the fizz of some grey effervescent medicine. I paled as I took a large step backward, “I.. uh, what is this?” I turned to face Benny who stood with another scientist. He glanced at her briefly before he approached the wall to apply more straps. He was careful to avoid touching the wall with his bare skin. “Honestly, we have no idea”.

I got Donald and Jonesy to help Benny transport the wall down to room 278B via the service elevator. Donald grumbled about how badly the wall smelled and Jonesy had eyes as large as saucers when he saw it up close, “It looks so unreal!” Once downstairs I returned to my office to get some more coffee and file away the paperwork. I tried to put the strangeness of the wall out of my mind, but it had truly unnerved me. I felt so tired, my forehead drenched with cold sweat. I had been working extra shifts lately, but I had never been hit by such exhaustion so rapidly. As I sat at my desk facing the surveillance monitors I was unable to fight the sleep forcing my eyes shut.

I’ve had many hangovers in my life, most of them unpleasant, but when I woke up at my desk I’d never felt quite so singularly awful. My clothes were soaked with sweat and my whole body felt exhausted. My arms felt like molasses as I attempted to move. My forehead throbbed and I felt bruised. I also felt a pressure squeezing my head from all sides. It was quite peculiar. I sat back in my seat and rubbed my eyes.

Then I froze.

A hand was lying motionless on the floor just behind the table in the center of the office. I leapt to my feet and rushed forward. I gasped from horror as I saw Donald lying on the floor, his chest sliced to ribbons. Gallons of crimson red stained his blue uniform and his eyes stared up empty and terrified.  Pallid and shaking I went to my office landline to call for backup immediately. As the receiver met my ear my stomach dropped into my feet.

The line was dead.

The sole means of communication within the core Facility is done through landlines. The landlines are monitored at all times and any interruption results in an immediate response from security. We had many protocols and fail safes to ensure communication remained enabled, but the line was dead and there was no sign of any response. In fact, how long had I been asleep? What was happening? I rushed back to the monitors. I hadn’t noticed it before but I couldn’t see anyone. The cameras were all operating normally but not a single person could be seen. The corridors were just as green and bare as most late evenings. I looked at the clock, it was only 1817h. I had slept for about two and a half hours. Where were the janitors? My heart was hammering in my chest and I couldn’t catch my breath. Meanwhile my head was throbbing and my eyes were burning. Suddenly I heard an indistinct whisper. Gooseflesh bloomed all over my back and arms.

I’d heard this voice before.

I’d heard this voice from the wall. 

I turned to the monitors and searched for the wall. It had been brought back to the surface; the hangar! It sat upon the bare ground right by the massive doors. However, the doors were all sealed. The wall itself looked different. It was enormous! Almost three times longer and taller and wider. Just then, I realized that the titanium blast doors had been sealed as well. My heart rate doubled as I noticed large dents, scorch marks and scratches all over the doors. Someone had tried to break them down. The hangar floor was covered in blood and ash as well as abandoned weapons. My God, I even saw a rocket-launcher lying blackened and fractured near the doors. What the hell had happened?

I spun my head to look at the security control panel on the wall to my left. My heart, already blaring, felt like it leapt out of my mouth. My eyes grew wide as I realized someone, probably Donald, had activated a quarantine procedure. This meant that the entire Facility would be sealed airtight. The only way to open any doors now was from the outside. My God! Why had he done this? Where was everyone? Did he try to wake me? Did I really sleep through all this? I looked back at Donald, my heart still hammering from seeing his dead eyes stare into mine. I sighed sadly and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was currently 1831h. I returned to the monitors and began to rewind the security footage.

Surveying the screens, I watched my past-self enter the security office at around 1600h. By 1610h I had passed-out on my chair, drool dangling from my mouth. “Ok, so let’s see where the wall was at that time. Should be room 278B.” I thought to myself aloud as I clicked on the button that would display the footage from that room as well as the surrounding corridors. The screen was black as the footage loaded and I was about to hit the play button but hesitated. Did I really want to see this? I closed my eyes and took a few slow breaths. I can’t figure my way out of here if I don’t know what’s going on. I have to know. I hit play.

The camera was located opposite the door giving a full view of the room. At first everything seemed normal. Benny and some other scientists had transported the wall into room 278B. It was 1623h when they were taking the straps off the wall. A loud popping sound was heard and the researchers spun around. The lights in the room dimmed and flickered. Suddenly something long and slimy exploded from the wall, curled around Benny, and pulled him in. He screamed in terror as he vanished, his cries immediately silenced. My jaw dropped open and a small yell escaped me.

Without realizing it, I was instantly on my feet, shaking my head in pure denial. My heart burst. What the hell was that? What the hell? What the hell? My head was full of static. I felt tears in my eyes as I watched guards and researchers rush into the room. The wall shimmered, it’s simmering surface began to boil and bubble and it grew three feet higher. I saw it reshape itself so that intricately carved figures appeared on the wall’s edge. I leant in closer and gasped. One of those figures looked just like Benny, his mouth stretched open wide into a permanent scream. I didn’t want to continue watching, but I had to. The guards and researchers were horrified by what they saw before them. Suddenly, without warning, their body postures relaxed, their eyes grew glassy, and their arms fell slack at their sides. Those within the room moved as if sleepwalking. Some stayed still while others left the room. Brow furrowed from confusion and fear, my eyes swiveled to the footage of the corridor outside. The guards and researchers that had just exited 278B immediately began attacking and grappling those around them. I yelped as a vacant-eyed guard lazily shot another man in the leg. The thrall then dragged the wounded guard into room 278B. The mad guard held the wounded guard’s leg fast as he casually walked into the grey wall, pulling the struggling man in behind him. During this altercation I noticed Donald for the first time, he was hiding behind the corner of the corridor at the far end and was firing his gun at the madmen. He didn’t manage to hit anyone though. He then ran over to help a stray researcher to their feet and then they both ran down the corridor and out of view.

I can still hear the cries of pain and pleas for mercy as those who fell victim to the thralls were each dragged into that horrifying wall. With every person it swallowed, the wall wriggled and grew and grew. More and more ghastly decorations began to bloom on its surface, all of them made from the bones or likenesses of those who had been absorbed. The bigger it got the stronger its psychic influence became until it seemed to reach nearly everyone in the Facility, turning them into thralls. I looked on in horror as one by one, all janitors, researchers, guards, diggers, admin staff, everyone gradually stopped what they were doing, mid conversation, their eyes emptying. The janitors dropped their mops and buckets. Researchers dropped precious materials and equipment without care, letting them smash to pieces. In unison they all slowly, with vacant expressions, moved toward room 278B. Among the horde of thralls, I saw Bill and Jonesy, and so many others I knew by face. A guy who’d held the door for me once, a researcher who always slurped her coffee at lunch. Hundreds of people! What filled me with an unnamable dread was that I knew what was gonna happen. I knew what was coming. I tried to shout at the monitors, “Stop! Wait!” I grabbed the monitors and shook them with frustration.

A terror began to fill my stomach, deep and cold and aching. Suddenly I noticed Donald reappear on the screen. He was trying to hold back the researcher he’d helped earlier, but it was useless. I saw Donald, chest heaving from effort, stare with incredulity as he sat defeated on the ground. Everyone else around him stumbled dreamily toward their doom. But Donald refused to give up. I saw him run from corridor to corridor, trying desperately to stop them. He threw chairs and tables in their way but they simply pushed them aside or jumped over them. I saw him run toward this office. I saw him enter, saw myself slumped on my chair still completely unconscious. I saw Donald try to shake me awake, he slapped me a few times and was yelling in frustration. He gave up with me eventually and ran over to activate the quarantine lockdown. I saw him tear down the hall back toward room 278B, pistol in hand. 

My best guess was that he saw what was happening in room 278B and decided he was gonna stop it. However, as soon as he got close to the door a long pale tendril burst through the door directly into Donald’s chest. The tentacle had a hooked end and it slashed at him. I saw blood spurt out of him, saw him stumble and fall from the ground in fright. However, he still managed to get a hold of his gun and fired multiple shots at the tendril. It writhed and flailed. Donald took the opportunity to climb to his feet. He grimaced and clasped his chest as crimson leaked to the floor. He moved back down the corridor, much more slowly than before. Eventually he got back to the office. He locked the door and then collapsed.  I cried out in frustration. That whole time I was completely useless!

My mind felt like static again for a few seconds. I couldn’t work out what my next move should be. A thought hit me hard, one I should really have thought of before. Why had Donald and I not been psychically affected by the wall? Everyone had been enslaved, everyone had been forced to walk into that wall. Why not Donald? And me? I knew it must be connected to my horrendous sleepiness. My eyes grew wide with sudden realization. “Shit, the steel plates in my head!” Donald had a single steel plate in his skull because of a rock-climbing accident he had in his 20s. When I got close to the wall, had it sensed my resistance? Had it tried to incapacitate me? If so, it means this thing possesses sentience.

While I pondered this, I noticed some thralls re-strap the wall in room 278B. They transported it to the elevator and back up to the hangar. Once there, the thralls moved the wall off the scaffold onto the floor and began to beat heavily on the large metal doors with bare fists. Some even shot at the doors with their handguns. The ricochets killed a few of them but not one single person seemed to even notice. Some of the guards even used a rocket launcher! I yelled with shock as they fired at deadly close range, lazily blowing themselves up, leaving the doors scorched. After this proved futile, the thralls all grew suddenly rigid. Next, they all formed a line in front of the wall and one shambling step after another, all the remaining employees were – assimilated. Even the dead and wounded were not spared. Those still alive carried the corpses of their fellow thralls into the wall.

It was 1705h when the last employee disappeared forever into the grey horror, and the wall expanded to its current size. Without warning, a large writhing mass of twisted limbs emerged from the wall. I gasped from horror. I couldn’t tell exactly what it was because the lighting in the hangar wasn’t good enough, but it definitely wasn’t human. Its silhouette was about seven feet tall and thin and stretched. It had too many legs and it didn’t seem to have a head. This thing lumbered over to the doors and began to strike them with a strength and ferocity one would only find in a starving polar bear. I could tell that the doors were taking strain, and they began to bend, but even then, they would not yield. After about half an hour of smashing the door, the creature stopped and slowly shambled toward the stairs. My heart froze. It was coming here! Or was it here already?

My eyes swiveled back to the main monitor and I was surprised to see Donald still alive. He was scratched and bleeding badly as he shakily pushed himself from the floor. He then looked up at the ammunitions cupboard and began to search through his keys. I saw him curse. He couldn’t find the key with his trembling, bloodied fingers. In the next instant his eyes bulged and he heaved as if vomiting. His body doubled over and long grey tendrils oozed from his mouth and wriggled furiously. He grabbed his throat and fell forward onto the floor. Frozen in horror I watched as his body squirmed and he wriggled as if his intestines were filled with snakes. I continued to watch absolutely transfixed as three long grey tendrils emerged again from between Donald’s lips. Slowly they wriggled free of his mouth. They were about half a foot long, dull grey and thin like spaghetti.

I watched as they slithered toward my unconscious form on the monitor. I bit my lip and stood up. Slowly my brain put two and two together. Bile rose in my throat. I yelled at myself to wake up and see the worms. Just then my stomach dropped and I could feel an itchiness in my belly. I could feel the wriggling itch of a thousand grey eels in my gut. Or was I imagining it?

My stomach writhed and I was about to puke when I saw myself awake and stretch in my chair. The worms somehow realized I was awake and they moved out of view towards the –before I could watch the screen any longer, I heard a hiss and something slimy and long wrapped itself around my throat so tight I couldn’t breathe. I gasped with surprise and strained my neck to look at the monitor that showed the room in real time. I saw from the camera behind my head that something thin and grey had wrapped itself around my throat. I saw two more of those things coming at me from behind as well. They were about to come wriggling up my chair when I grimaced with anger and grabbed my gun from its holster. The thing around my neck was hissing and making awful clicking and guttural noises. Its small worm head had a mouth that bit and it latched onto my neck to suck my blood. I pulled at the leach and pressed my gun up against it. I pulled the trigger. With an earsplitting bang and a sound like a water balloon popping the leach was reduced to sticky goo. I pulled the remnants of the leach off my neck and spun around just in time to shoot and kill the others. I grinned with a mad-joy and yelled with relief. Immediately, a wave of nausea and exhaustion hit me and I fell back onto my chair. “What the hell was that? What the hell do I do now?” I sat still for a moment and tried not to lose my mind completely. I swear I could hear Woody the woodpecker laughing somewhere in the distance. I needed to keep it together. I took a long deep breath and tried to think of a way out.

Summarizing the details of my predicament, I realized I was trapped alone inside the Facility with an otherworldly force. Also, even if I found a way out, I’d potentially be letting an evil into the world that could destroy all life. At once an old thought returned to me, one I’d often experienced as a cop. “If I need to sacrifice myself to save others, I will do so without complaint.” A wry smile spread over my face. “Once a cop, always a cop.” My smile vanished as a I continued to think. “But my God, if this thing gets out. If it gets into the minds of other people. If it gets larger and larger. Could it swallow the world? The solar system? What other monstrosities would it unleash?” I was talking aloud now; the sound of my voice gave a new reality to my situation that made me shudder. I turned back to the monitor. It seems I was all caught up with what had happened. I stared blankly into the screen while I watched my past-self continue to wake and wince from pain. I switched the monitor off and saw my reflection in the blackness of the screen. I was pale and my eyes were wide and unblinking. “What do I do now?” I turned in my chair to look at Donald’s body. Were all those worms gone? Could some still be hiding? And what should be done with his body? Probably best to have it burned. “Poor Donald, he didn’t deserve this”, I muttered softly as I examined his corpse, making sure there were no unexplained twitches beneath his skin. My eyes moved from his body up to the ammunition’s cupboard just above. “Wait, why was he trying to get into the cupboard earlier? We don’t have much…”, my eyes grew large with realization. “Holy crap, he was trying to get the bomb! Me and Donald were gonna use a left-over bomb from the excavation site to blow some random shit up!”

I sighed sadly and heavily. We never got around to it. I stood up quickly and walked up to the cupboard. I pulled out my keys and quickly found the key I’d need. I opened the cupboard with little effort and found the ten kilos of plastic explosive inside. It had already been set up with a sixty second timer and a remote detonator by a colleague. I sat at the table with the explosive, a vague plan forming in my broken mind. “Maybe if I somehow get this wall-thing to eat this bomb then…”

Before I could formulate my thoughts fully, the lights flickered, and the entire Facility was plunged into darkness unceremoniously. My nerves were burning with fear. What had happened? Had that thing knocked the power out somehow? The next few seconds that past were some of the longest I’d ever experienced. However, dim green light bloomed to life and the reserve power kicked in. Then I heard slow, shuffling footsteps in the corridor just outside the office. I froze once again, my insides turning to mush. My mind raced. Had I remembered to lock the door? My stomach leapt into my feet as I heard the shuffling get louder and louder. I heard hoarse, wheezing breaths, as if the thing struggled to breathe. I jumped from fright but remained absolutely silent as whatever the thing was banged on the door with a deafening blow.

BANG! The door shook and bent slightly.

BANG! Silence for a moment.

BANG! BANG! Again silence. My heart was hammering in my ears and I sat deathly still. I could hear that thing breathing louder. After a few moments I heard it shuffle away. My entire body was shaking as relief washed over me. Whatever the thing was, it had walked away and I could no longer hear it. I turned to look at the monitors. Dare I turn them on and check what it was? After a few seconds of consideration, holding my breath, I turned to the monitors and switched them on. I waited in nervous anticipation as the screens flickered to life showing me that all the corridors between me and the wall were currently empty. I didn’t bother checking the corridor I suspected the shambling thing was in. I didn’t want to see it unless I needed to. I’d had just about all the stress and terror I could take and by this stage I felt weirdly calm. It must be shock. A thin sigh escaped me as I stood. The fear in my blood began to feed a furnace of anger in my heart. I thought about all those who I had lost. I felt my expression turn to granite, “It’s time to kill this thing.”

I opened the door slowly, my fully loaded gun in my good hand. Spare ammo along with the explosive and a shotgun was stashed in my backpack, and the remote detonator was tied to my belt. I held a heavy-duty flashlight in my shaky right hand. I moved cautiously through the dark green corridors. I’d never thought of how creepy this place could be until this moment. Gooseflesh crept up my arms and neck as I continued. All I could hear were my soft footfalls and shallow anxious breaths. I cleared the corridors one by one until I made it to the stairs that would lead me to the thing that looks like a wall. I walked up the stairs slowly, my ears honing in on any sound. That’s when I heard it. I heard the soft sound of crying.

Someone was crying. I stopped dead in my tracks. My entire body shook from the adrenaline surging through me. I took one step. Then another. Slowly, I climbed. Once my head could peek over the top, I froze. Jonesy was squatting on his knees, naked. He was between the wall and me, with his back facing me. The terrifying thing loomed enormous before us. It was now framed intricately with the skeletons of hundreds of people, all twisted and screaming in agony. Writhing, tortured souls fused together. Then came the sound of crying and moaning from the wall. I could hear them all. They were all screaming. Screaming for me to help them. To join them. I felt that pressure squeeze against my skull tighter and tighter. I shook my head in defiance. “No! You bastard! NO! I will not join you! You’re not Jonesy!” All at once the moans and wails stopped. I suddenly found myself at the top of the stairs without knowing when I’d finished climbing them. “But we are Jonesy” came a voice that was not human. It was a voice made from all those it had swallowed up. It was as though something had made a distorted copy of the voices of all those people and then just used them all at once to speak. It didn’t understand the concept of individuality. All of a sudden, the wall rippled and grey tendrils squirmed from the flesh of the wall, curling around Jonesy as they teased his face and slowly pulled him in. As he disappeared there was a horrendous sucking, squelching noise. “We are Jonesy. We are all. We can be all. We will be all. All and all and more than all.” The voice was chanting this over and over. Louder and louder.

A deafening blast came from the wall and a slithering, writhing mass of tangled human limbs emerged. It had four legs and several arms. It looked like the bodies of eight or more people shuffled and glued into an otherworldly horror. Its multiple mouths screamed a high pitch squeal that was more horrifying than the screams of the damned, and its sharp pointed teeth gnashed and chomped. I only had a second to dodge this monster. I leapt to the side and fired multiple shots at the thing’s center of mass. Its horrifying body of fused torsos wriggled and bled black ichor. It screamed with pain and jumped at me, grabbing my leg. It tossed me into the air and I almost lost my gun as I slammed into the floor a few feet away. Before I could catch my breath, it was upon me again. From the ground I fired several shots at it. This made it jump away and scuttle down the stairs. With it momentarily out of sight, I quickly got to my feet and kept my eyes on the stairs.

After a second, I decided to kneel and take off my backpack as fast as I could. I pulled out the bomb and started the timer. I also decided to get the shotgun out and get it loaded. I needed to do this now or never. As the final shell clicked into place I heard a roar coming from the stairs. The thing was back. Before I could react, it leapt at me and knocked me to the ground. The bomb flew from my grasp. It bared down on me, grabbing at my throat ready to tear me apart. My reflexes saved me though and I managed to use my shotgun to hold the thing at bay, but it was too strong. Desperate, I kicked it hard in the chest and it let go. I used this moment to grab the bomb that lay behind me; only 37 seconds to go! Terrified and crazed, sweat pouring down my face, my mind in pieces, I rammed the bomb into the creature’s mouth and kicked it back again as hard as I could. I heard it yelp like a wounded dog and it lost its footing. It fell sideways and in that second, I took my shotgun and fired at it in the chest. The force of the close-range blast sent me flying. At the same time the creature was hurled back into the wall where it was enveloped quickly.

My head was fuzzy. I was dizzy and the wind had been knocked out of me. Was the bomb going to work? I felt something warm and wet drip into my ear and touched the side of my head. My fingertips came away soaked in blood. My head was spinning. With a foggy mind I grabbed my bag, collecting my weapons and flashlight. As I stood up I heard a low rumbling sound. The ground beneath my feet shook and for a moment I was confused. Then I looked up at the wall. Its surface was roiling and boiling like I’d never seen before. It was shaking and growing. I turned to run when suddenly there was a massive blast from inside it, and the entire wall exploded into hundreds of small grey chunks. These chunks rained down all around the hangar, smashing several aircraft. The blast knocked me off my feet and this time I definitely passed out because when I awoke I could see daylight through the tiny cracks in the blast door. Where the wall had once been now stood a small blackened crater. I turned around to inspect the wall pieces and found that they – my eyes grew wide and my mouth opened. They were melting. As I approached a fragment of wall, a horrible twisted hand shot out at me. I yelled and jumped away. It was still alive! I watched in dumbfounded horror as the pieces continued to melt and began to merge, just like that scene from Terminator 2.

It was rebuilding itself. Then I heard a groan. My blood became ice. I turned slowly in terror to find the shambling, wheezing monstrosity behind me. Like the creature I’d shot, this one seemed made from bits and pieces of human limbs knitted together randomly. This one had legs which came out its mouth, its head positioned within its torso where the bellybutton should be, and it wheezed in pain. I almost puked from fright but my legs were already carrying me away. I sprinted down the corridors, ignoring all the pain and fear and exhaustion and anger and frustration I had inside me. Without thinking, I leapt into the first janitor’s closet I found and locked the door with a dull clunking sound. After catching my breath, I found this notepad and pencil, and have been writing this report in the sterile glow of my flashlight. Hopefully, I have left some useful information for anyone who may find this.

Now I lie in wait for that thing. Now I lie in wait for that grey ooze. What is that thing? Is it truly indestructible? If it can survive a bomb like that, what hope do we have? It’s no wall at all. It’s a membrane. An interface. Somewhere very different is pressing up against us. It has torn a small hole, and was now prying it open further. I should blow up this whole damn place! I should burn it! But would it matter? Or would it just be buried, to be rediscovered? I think even if I survive this, nothing can help us. So here I wait, hoping to be saved, but even as I write this I can hear that thing walking past the door. With a soft click I turn off my flashlight. I try not to breathe. I can hear the snuffling, it’s right outside! I can smell its ugly breath.

Oh God! I hear the jingling of keys. The door is unlocking! How? How?

Oh God! The doorknob is turning…

It’s Here

My wife shakes me so hard I wake with a sharp grunt. She’s sitting bolt upright in bed. I turn my head towards her, my eyes wrinkle from sleep and confusion. Her eyes are unblinking, terrified and transfixed on something at the foot of our bed. I sit up, rubbing my eyes as they adjust to the early morning light. The white curtains ripple gently with a slight breeze, hiding the promise of a beautiful summer’s day.

Then I see the thing at the foot of our bed.

My wife and I remain frozen. At first, I’m paralyzed. Quickly my fear turns to anger. I grab my sheets and motion to get out of bed. Suddenly, I’m frozen solid by fear again as I take a closer look at the thing. The figure is tall, lean and lanky. It has the proportions of a large simian; its long arms stretch all the way to the ground, and its hands lie limply on the wooden floor. Each hand ends in five deadly claws with wicked sharp points. The thing is black as pitch, and I can’t tell if it has dark, burnt skin or if it’s made from a wholly otherworldly substance. Its mouth is large and stretched into a horrific grin. Its jagged teeth are unnaturally white and it bares them with a menacing glee. Its ears taper off into subtle points like that of an elf, and it has long straggly, black hair that has clumped and caked together by some brown material I do not wish to think about. My brain is confused by this impossible sight, and my mind goes blank. I thought it has to be a joke. But I can smell the thing. It has a smell that could not be produced by anything living. Anything natural. I’m so utterly confused still. Something like this cannot exist. How is it here on some random summer’s morning, standing here in plain daylight? These kinds of things only happen at night. There have been no other signs. No strange unexplained moving of objects, strange sounds, eerie smells and cold patches. We have not read from any weird books, played with Ouija boards or been cursed. 

But there it stands.

Grinning at us.

Not moving a single limb.

I suddenly notice the silence. It is so eerily quiet right now. But how? Nearly every day this summer the neighbors were either cutting down trees or letting their dogs and children run about and scream and bark and play, much to my chagrin. Yet now the air was thick with silence. Where are the neighbors? In fact, where are the birds? There were always birds chirping loudly outside at this time. Has something happened to them? Sweat pours down my forehead. The thing is standing so still. So silent. I hear my heart pounding and my breathing becomes quick and shallow.

Whatever this thing is it’s simply not possible. I begin to shake. I move my hand towards my wife slowly. I do not break my gaze on the thing. I stare at its eyes. They are large, white, and milky. Dead. My breath comes out hard and fast. As I grab my wife she jumps slightly, but does not turn her head away from the thing. Her face is twisted with terror and her face is pale as snow. She trembles as she squeezes my hand so tight it goes numb and my fingers turn white. All I think about is getting away from this thing. I start to whisper to my wife, when the thing slowly raises a long thin claw to its mouth. Its lips purse as a noise that does not belong to our world hisses out “Ssshhhh”. Its voice sounds slippery, slimy, squelchy. It sounds like something as it’s swallowed by a peat bog. I freeze. My heart freezes. My blood freezes. My wife is clenching so tight my hand feels like it’s being crushed. I tug at her chin and gesture for her to follow me. Slowly and silently, eyes glued on the thing, we step out of bed. As we do I grab my keys from the bedside table. I then notice my wife and I are still in our summer pajamas. Strangely, with stress pressing on my mind from all sides, I am suddenly more worried about being found dead in my Spiderman pajamas than anything else. I chuckle quietly and hysterically at this random and inappropriate thought as we run barefoot from our bedroom.

It’s in the corridor.

Shit! It’s in the corridor now.

It didn’t make a sound. I turn back to the bedroom. It’s gone. It has moved, without walking or scuttling or running. It can travel from place to place without needing to move. Does that mean there is just one of them? My heart was beating so fast I felt dizzy. It stands at the entrance to the bathroom; just to our right as we exit the bedroom. The curtains undulate gently as a summer breeze blows through the open bathroom window. The smell carried by this zephyr nearly burns off my nose. It is so wretched. The grip I had on my wife is now more desperate. There is no avoiding it. We have to run right by this thing to get to the front door. My stomach drops and my vision swims from fright.

We run passed it.

The smell gets so much worse.

It reaches out its clawed hand and caresses my face softly as we bound down the hall. My wife and I fight back tears. My mind is in tatters. All I can see now is the front door. I rip it open, and tear through the door, wife in hand, into the warm morning air. We don’t close or lock the door. The air is humid and sticky; it is hard to breathe. My chest is burning as we sprint to our little green car and leap inside.

It’s in the driveway.

It’s in the driveway! How could this be possible? What the hell is this thing, standing, grinning in the blaring morning sun? I start the car as my wife and I buckle our seatbelts. The thing just stands as still as before. Smiling that disturbing smile. My eyes pour out tears from pure stress and fear. I’m sobbing and my wife is near catatonia. I slam my foot on the accelerator and we take off straight for the thing. It jumps nimbly to one side, grinning like the Cheshire cat and just as eerily graceful. As we reach the gate I don’t check for cars. I don’t care. We live in a small mountain village and I take our chances. I swivel my head around to stare at the thing as it stands in the driveway, staring at us, unblinking, smiling. I stare at it in turn as I drive the car around a corner and watch the thing disappear as we move down the road. I continue to stare out the back window, so sure I will see it bounding after us, using its arms to run like a gorilla. But I see nothing. I turn my head slowly to face the front window. My heart beat begins to ease. Momentarily my wife and I are silent, but soon we are screaming from stress and fear. Tears flooding our faces. My wife turns to me and cries out “What the hell was that thing?”. It suddenly smells horrible in the car.

“Sshhh”, my blood ignites with fear. It’s the thing’s voice. Coming from the seat behind my wife. We freeze and fall immediately silent. Fighting back our own whimpering, slowly, we turn.

It’s in the car. It’s on the backseat.

It’s in the car now! Suddenly, I hear a noise and turn back to face the road to see that I’ve crossed lanes completely, a small BMW heading straight for me. I yell and make a sharp turn back towards my lane, my heart in my throat. As we return to the correct side of the road, I see the thing reach out a hand to my wife. It slashes her just once across her chest and neck, and it’s so fast I just see a blur and then blood. Scarlet gore spurts from my wife in pressurized pulses. I watch her bleed and gurgle. She grabs my hand, but it quickly goes limp. “I told you to shhhh” says the thing, that voice so beyond natural, it sounds like a swamp trying to speak.

I am dead and numb.

I cry out in terror and anguish. Anger, spite and vengeance quickly explode to life in my brain, vaporizing all traces of fear.  I veer the car towards a cliff. We fly off of it and into a precipice. The thing just grins as we fall.

The cops don’t believe me.

I have survived the crash. My wife is dead and they think it was me somehow. I lie and tell them a wild animal got in the car, killed my wife, and forced me off the road. They shake their heads. Suddenly, there’s a bang. A car outside the hospital has backfired. Momentarily the cops and nurses are distracted. I steal a scalpel quickly and hide it under my mattress.

It’s nighttime now. I am alone. I can see it outside the hospital. It stands and grins up at me.

I clench the scalpel in my bandaged, shaking hand. 

I lie in bed and I hold my breath.

It’s in my room now.

It’s here.