The Anonymous Journal

I’m kind of scared guys. I’m a journalist at small town newspaper and just received an anonymous envelope containing some kid’s hand written journal. The name on the front cover of the journal has been scratched off, and there are what appears to be some blood stains on the cover and on some of the pages. I don’t know what to make of this journal or its contents yet, but I think something horrible happened to this kid. It seems so surreal and terrifying that something like this could even possibly exist, but given the events a few years ago at that facility just outside of town, I think there might be something here.

I want to do some more digging around before going public, and I don’t usually rely on these types of forums, but I took the time to transcribe the journal and anonymously post it here in case anyone has any information that could help. More importantly, I want to ensure the record survives because if the kid is right about the conspiracy to cover this up, I may not get another chance to get the message out. Consider this post also a kind of insurance policy in that sense.

About the transcription, in some parts of the journal the handwriting becomes rushed and very hard to read, and in a few places it’s completely illegible. I did my best to interpret and represent what was written, filling in the gaps where I could but trying to keep the actually editing to a minimum. I’ve included a few observational notes in my transcription that helps provide some details about the journal and writing itself.

This journal, and the things it describes, is really messed up. It just seems too authentic and that’s what scares me.

– – –

November 5, 2001

I miss Dad. 6 days ago my dad passed away in an accident at his work. I wish he were still here. It’s been really sad for me and Mom without Dad here. I always looked forward to the weekends where Dad would make me his special waffles for breakfast and we would play games in the living room or walk to the park together. We were supposed to go Trick-or-Treating on Halloween and we spent so much time on my costume, but I just couldn’t go without him. The counselor at school said I should start writing a journal about my feelings and memories whenever I miss my dad. Everyone says that Dad is still watching over me from Heaven, but it’s not fair that I’ll never be able to see him again.

November 6, 2001

I’ve been having bad dreams about Dad. The last time I saw him he was acting scary and weird. The counselor said that sometimes people can have bad dreams when they are sad and grieving. I asked my mom about it again and it just made her cry. I cried too because I’m sad about Dad and I’m sad that I made Mom sad too. My mom told me write a good memory about Dad in my journal. I remember the camping trip we took this past summer and Dad was teaching me how to fish. I caught the biggest fish all by myself. It was a lot of fun.

School is still cancelled this week so me and Mom stayed home and watched some movies. Grandma and Grandpa called and it was nice to talk with them. Two men in black suits from Dad’s work also stopped by to talk with Mom.

November 7, 2001

I woke up this morning and saw my mom watching the local news. There were pictures of the remains of the big building Dad worked at. The news said something about a gas leak. Mom and Dad used to caution me about the gas stove in the kitchen, so I know gas can be dangerous. I’m sad about the other people who died in the accident and the families who also miss their loved ones. There were other kids at school whose parents died in the accident too. I wonder if any of them are also writing a journal about their feelings and memories.

November 8, 2001

Mom told me to put a picture of Dad in my journal. I always thought Dad looked cool in the white lab coat he sometimes wore to work, so I chose that one. Dad got me my own lab coat last year that matched his, so I could wear it during my science fair presentation. Mom took that picture of me and Dad in matching lab coats in front of our house just before we left for school. I got a good grade on that project thanks to Dad. Mom also gave me a family photo to put in my journal.

We left the house to do some errands, and we stopped by to get my favorite ice cream afterwards which was good. But Mom cried a lot today, which made me sad too. I wish I could make her feel better.

[No pictures were included in the journal or envelope.]

November 9, 2001

I woke up early this morning after another night of bad dreams and couldn’t go back to sleep. When I walked downstairs, there was a man in the same white lab coat Dad wore talking to Mom outside. A black car and the two men in black suits were with them. From the living room window, I could hear them talk about my dad and the funeral for him. The man in the lab coat said it may be a long time before Dad could have a proper burial. They wouldn’t be able to find and recover him until they lifted something called a “quarantine”.

Later I asked Mom what a “quarantine” was. She seemed to get mad at me for asking but said it’s a contained area where nobody could go in or out of. I guess the area is still dangerous. Mom seemed to get upset about the recovery taking longer. I tried to get her to play games with me or walk to the park like Dad would, but she said she was too tired. It hurts when I see my mom suffering. I asked Dad for help because he would know what to do.

November 12, 2001

I went back to school today but it was very different. The counselor came in and talked to us about grief and sadness. Everyone was quiet and no one played like they used to. I really miss Dad and wish everything would go back to normal.

November 13, 2001

Grandma and Grandpa flew in today, and it was nice to spend some time with them. They told me stories about Dad when he was still a kid. One time when Dad came home from school, he pulled a frog out of his pocket. Grandpa said that Dad had found the frog during recess and kept it in his pocket for the rest of the entire school day! When Dad got home, he made an entire habitat for the frog and kept it for several weeks before deciding it was best to release it back into the wild. They said Dad loved animals and insects, and would catch and study them often. I felt better after hearing those stories about Dad. I think Mom felt a little better too.

November 14, 2001

Mom told me that they had finalized the date for Dad’s funeral and celebration of life, and that it would be this Saturday. I asked her if they had found Dad but she just said that they would be holding the funeral and celebration without him. It doesn’t seem right to me but I don’t think there’s much that Mom can do.

November 15, 2001

I helped Mom select pictures for the slide show. It was fun remembering all of the trips and activities we did together with Dad as a family. It was also sad to think that Dad wouldn’t be with us anymore when we did things in the future. Mom said that Dad would be having fun watching us from Heaven when we were having fun. I would rather have Dad here though.

Grandpa also took me to the clothing store to get me a suit for the funeral. The suit was kind of heavy and uncomfortable, but Grandpa said I looked just like Dad at my age when he attended a cousin’s wedding. I guess it’s ok if Dad wore it.

November 17, 2001

The funeral for Dad was today. There were a lot of people and flowers at the church. Some of my friends from school even came. The funeral was sad. Everyone was crying. Grandpa and Grandma told stories about Dad and said nice things about him. Even the man in the white lab coat who stopped by the house last week said a few kind words about my dad. I cried a lot too. I really miss Dad.

November 19, 2001

Another man in a black suit came to visit us today after school. He said they weren’t able to look for Dad anymore. Mom didn’t like this. I asked if I could help look for him, but the man said it would be too dangerous.

Later that night Mom sat me down with Grandma and Grandpa. She said that we were going to celebrate Thanksgiving at their place. She said I would be staying with Grandma and Grandpa through the holidays and she’d come visit for Christmas and take me home after New Years. I asked her what she was doing between that time, but she only said she had to take care of some things at home. I know she is still sad about Dad. Thanksgiving and Christmas won’t be the same without him. I wish I could help her, but I don’t know what to do.

April 8, 2008

I had completely forgotten about this journal. I left it at the house when I visited with Grandma and Grandpa that year, and never picked back up the routine when I returned home. After a while, I guess it just got lost among the many other things accumulated in my bedroom, until today that is. To think it’s been over six years since I last opened it.

My mom and I adjusted to our new routine after the holidays. It was hard at first, but over time we became accustomed to life without my father. Over a third of my class had moved away then, and classes still seem a bit empty even now that I’m in middle school. The house really hasn’t changed since either, and I don’t think my father’s workplace has even been touched since the accident. I got a glimpse when we drove by it a few months ago. It’s the same old collapsed concrete structure but now with more encroaching vegetation and a few more cautionary signs.

My father also had an office in the basement downstairs, but I don’t think that has been opened or touched since he passed away either. I don’t know much about that room in our house but my father, from time to time after coming home from work, would spend full nights down there. He was good about not working on the weekends though, which was when I spent most of my time with him.

My mom has been better since I moved back in. She’s been working hard to pay the bills and support me. My father’s insurance is helping too. Other family contributes every once in a while, but we’ve been doing pretty well on our own.

April 10, 2008

Since finding this journal again, I’ve been thinking a lot about my father recently. After school I spent some time online researching the accident that had killed my father. I had never really questioned what had happened before. Maybe a result of my youthful ignorance, but I never felt there was a reason to. Now I’m just more confused.

The problem isn’t what I found. It’s what I didn’t find. I remember the local news talking about the explosion at the government facility my father worked at and I remember seeing early footage of the emergency response. Speculation was of a severe gas leak that ignited, but the investigation into the cause was never resolved before the incident stopped appearing altogether.

It wasn’t only information about the accident that I couldn’t find. Details about the building, its purpose and what went on inside, and the quarantine afterwards were impossible to find as well. Even Google Maps had reduced the resolution of the area in the forest where the building was. My father had a PhD in Biochemistry so I can only speculate that his workplace was health or research related.

When I couldn’t find answers on my own, I asked my mom about the place my father had worked at. She also didn’t know anything, only that he worked for the government, and he wasn’t allowed to talk about his job much.

It’s strange to me how much secrecy there is still around my father and his workplace after all these years. When I was younger, I certainly had a vague understanding that my father worked a high security job, but the lack of information about the accident and building just seems odd to me.

April 11, 2008

Last night I had the nightmare about my father again. It’s been almost four years since I’ve had that specific nightmare. I’m sure it was brought on because I’ve been thinking about him more recently and the memory of the day I last saw him.

It was a few days before the accident, and my father had come home from work early. My mom had picked me up from school, and when we arrived at home, we were surprised to see his truck in the driveway. We walked into the house and called his name. No response, but a faint, distressing sound could be heard coming from the basement. Following the noise, and thickening trail of scattered papers, we found my father in the doorway of his office.

He was hunched over on his hands and knees, boxes and papers scattered all around him. He was frantically looking for something, mumbling words to himself. I still remember the only comprehensible sound that emitted from his mouth. “Sub-Level 0”.

His demeanor was… unnatural. When he turned around to look at us, the real condition he was in became unsettlingly apparent. He had blood splattered across the front of his lab coat, and blood on his hands and face. His eyes were bloodshot and dilated, and foam could be seen at the corners of his mouth. His facial expression, a mix of panic, discomfort, and anger, was horrifying.

This image was forever imprinted on my mind. It was the first time I ever truly feared my father. My mom had pulled me back upstairs quickly and it took some reassurances from her before I stopped crying and regained composure.

After a while he did find what he was looking for, I think. He ran out of the house with a shriek, jumped back into his truck and drove away. And that was the last time I ever saw him. It was only a few days later when the accident happened.

I don’t know what was going on with him, but in the end, he seemed like he was sick or something. Even in the weeks before, he increasingly spent more time at work and seemed preoccupied and irritable when at home. It was all strange really. I’m just a little sad that this is the last memory I have of my father.

Later, I worked up the courage to go down to the basement and inspect the door to my father’s office. I could almost visualize the memory as I came down the steps and rounded the corner. But the door was closed as it had been for the last six years. The door itself was a bit different and sturdier that other doors in the house, and had a more sophisticated key lock. Without the key I didn’t think it would be possible to break in without significantly damaging the door. Nobody except my father was allowed in his office. Even when he was in there, he had it locked. I doubt my mom would let me in even if she could remember where the key was.

April 12, 2008

I’ve begun to question the reporting I remembered six years ago and tried doing a little more research on my computer about the accident today. I gave up quickly on that again after reaching the same dead ends. Instead, I decided to go for a bike ride to the source. Doubt has been eating at me the last few days, and an in-person visit seemed the logical next step. My father’s workplace was about a twenty-minute commute by driving up through the forest outside of town. If I take the bus to the edge of town and ride the rest of the way, I gauge it’ll take me maybe two hours for me to get there. This will be strictly a reconnaissance mission to help me find a new lead maybe. When I get back, I’ll record what I find.

I think I found a way in! There wasn’t really anything helpful I could see from outside the perimeter, but I think I found a way through the fence line to get closer.

I stopped at the last curve in the road before I could see the entrance and hid my bike in the forest. I hugged the forest line as I approached. The guard station built aways down the road to the facility was still manned with the four guards I remember seeing the last time we drove by. They were stationed at a concrete outpost constructed directly over the road that led towards the facility. The hazy outline of the overgrown pile of concrete and rubble that was once the main building, could be seen in the distance.

I didn’t want to risk getting spotted by the guards, so cutting into the forest, I made my way to the barbed wired fence line. The forest expanded on the other side of the fence towards the pile of rubble which eventually became hidden behind all the trees. It was difficult to make out any details in the rubble from this distance. I continued walking along the fence, hoping I could get closer or find any information that would be helpful. I must have walked for at least 30 minutes with no real change to the scenery. I had no idea how far the fence went before finishing its loop around the facility either. But just as I was losing hope and about to turn around to return home, I saw my opportunity.

I had approached a section of fence that looked different than the rest. It was newer, like it had been recently replaced. A little bit further down the fence was a fallen tree that had section cut out of it, so the new fence could pass through it. The resulting impression on the ground from the fallen tree went under the new fence, and I think with a little digging, someone my size could easily pass underneath.

It was getting darker outside at this point, so I decided to return home. I know I could get in trouble, and there’s the quarantine thing to consider, but I feel like I owe it to my father to understand what actually happened to that place. Why did the results have to be the death of my father and so many others?

April 14, 2008

I decided to tell my friends Peter and Greg about my adventure over the weekend. I’ve been filling them in on the other stuff I’ve discovered about my father and the accident too. They’ve been in school with me since the beginning, but didn’t have any family that worked in that government facility. However, they seem to always have a way of compelling me to dig deeper into what exactly happened that led to the supposed accident that had killed my father.

They were excited when I told them I had found a way inside the fence and are already plotting to explore the remains of the building. I’m curious too, but not only will we get into a ridiculous amount of trouble if we get caught, I find it somewhat concerning that the building remains in its crumbled state after all these years. Why hasn’t it at least been demolished and cleaned up by now? Could the quarantine still be in effect even after six years? Or was this also something that was lied about to cover up the real cause of the accident? I’m beginning to doubt the story that was told to my family and this town, and I think it might be worth doing some investigating of what remains of the building itself.

[Three pages are missing here, forcefully ripped out of the journal it seems.]

April 17, 2008

Today I told Peter and Greg about everything I found in my father’s office and what I learned about his work. I am still surprised how much was missing from the office. Filing cabinets, tables, and other furniture that had been removed still left impressions in the carpet, and dust on the desk and other surfaces faintly outlined where my father’s computer and equipment had been. But I was able to put together some details from the textbooks left behind, and a set of documents and letters my father had intentionally hidden away.

In short, my father was one of the top scientists at that facility. He was an expert in microbiology and pathology and was working on something big but seemed to have a strong disagreement with management about something. There weren’t any specific details, but one of the documents seemed to caution about the exposure of something, outlined a corresponding safety protocol, and mentioned the need for “contingency containment procedures”.

This was significant. Given my father made a clear effort to preserve these few documents, I have to believe in their importance and authenticity. Was what happened on October 30th, 2001 related to these contingency containment procedures? What exposure were they concerned about? This is proof to me that the government is hiding information about the accident, but I don’t think this is convincing or definitive enough for anyone other than Peter and Greg. Besides, someone could just claim I made up these documents. There’s still too much uncertainty and too much coincidence. I need more hard evidence to support my claims. I need to know what they destroyed and why.

April 18, 2008

Peter, Greg, and I spent most of the day through our classes planning our leave tonight, despite the potential danger and the massive amount of trouble we would be in if we were to get caught. Thanks to the safety protocol outlined in the document, we can take some precautions to protect ourselves. We’ll also wait until it’s dark outside when we cross under the fence to reduce our chances of being spotted. The bike ride will be long, so we’ll leave an hour before sunset.

We decided our first move tonight will be only to get close to the facility. We’ll test the security to see if we can even approach the facility, and if that’s successful, we’ll survey the damage for possible entry points and mark areas for future investigation. We’ll come back with the information we gather and decide our next move from there. I still have to get ready for tonight, but I’ll write everything we find in this journal when we return.

[The next few pages are smudged with blood and dirt. The first of these pages is heavily marked up and mostly unintelligible. Writing scratched out, writing over writing, and some of it looks to be just scribbles. There are just a few sentence fragments I can read or decipher. I tried my best to transcribe the parts I could read below. The remaining pages’ handwriting improves but parts remain of rushed quality, and in a few places, I had to improvise the words a bit or clean up the phrasing and grammar.]

[I found] something horrible deep inside that facility. Something [illegible]. I can still feel [them] watching me. The things [they had] tried to destroy. And all those people. [Illegible] warning [illegible] before it’s too late.

[I can’t get the] image of those creatures [illegible] out of my head. [Illegible] so much hatred. [I can’t] keep focus. I feel myself losing [consciousness] again. My memory [illegible]. [Illegible] let them escape.

I can’t stop shaking. So much pain. My heel burns. My chest [and] my leg [illegible]. My leg is bleeding again, I must have [illegible].

I [don’t know where] Peter and Greg are. They might have found [a way in after] the collapse, or they might [illegible] something worse.

Don’t have much time, I [illegible].

[Starting on a new page:]

I passed out while sitting at my desk and collapsed onto my bedroom floor it seems. I was unconscious for maybe a few hours. There’s a small blood stain, a pool of spilled water, and some kind of thick yellow fluid on the ground next to where I laid. I’ll clean it up later. I don’t really remember anything after coming home, just that I was having what I could only describe as a severe panic attack, and I feared I would be taken at any moment. I don’t think my mom has been home since my desperate return. My body also still hurts, especially my right heel. The bleeding from my leg seems to have stopped though. I took some time when I awoke to assess and clean myself up a bit before trying again to record everything in this journal.

Looking at the previous page in my journal, I can’t make out most of what I tried to write then. I was a fucking mess; I still am in all honesty but maybe to a controllable degree now. Even just sitting in the bathroom, my mind raced with the events of the past hours or days, and my anxiety and paranoia would uncontrollably build up in me. It seems being unconscious for several hours has done little in the way of recovery. Even the thought of those… creatures… my mind still struggles to comprehend the things that I saw and is filled with horrible emotions. How can any of this even be possible? I fear I’ve made a huge mistake, but I just can’t remember. There are gaps in my memory. Maybe starting from the beginning will help. But I’m afraid to even think about those things. It’s like reliving a nightmare far worse than anything I could have ever imagined. It feels almost irrational that I’m still alive—even now. Perhaps I’m finally safe, but if this persistent paranoia is right, my safety is only temporary and I owe it to the world to warn everyone about the abominations I discovered deep within that facility, before it’s too late.

Peter, Greg, and I met at Peter’s house in the evening under the cover that we’d be eating dinner at Peter’s place before riding bikes back to my place for a sleepover. I told my Mom I’d be staying at Peter’s. His house was closest to the facility. We left Peter’s place about an hour before sunset as planned, riding the two or so hours to the facility. The two-lane road wound gradually uphill most of the way through the forest before leveling off the last mile or so. It was night when we arrived, and under the cover of darkness we found the spot off the side of the road I had previously used to ditch our bikes.

We moved through the forest to the fence line, being sure to stay as quiet and concealed as possible. The clouded gibbous moon provided us with barely enough light through the trees to see where were going, and our progress was slow. We slipped under the fence and moved behind the guard’s vision to the large pile of rubble without alarm. Moving to Phase 2 of our plan we walked towards the remains of the facility, passing through the large field of concrete chunks that increased in size and density as we approached. We paused briefly to look among the debris, but it was difficult to make out anything meaningful beside black shadows and jagged silhouettes in the dim night. We dared not use our flashlights in the open, and figuring there probably wasn’t anything out here anyway, we pressed towards the most intact portion of the facility.

We reached the base of the main collapse and put on our masks and protective gear. The remains of the building and assembly of concrete segments were a dark textured silhouette against a black tree line and dark sky. The collapsed structure was maybe 50 feet tall at its highest, where the partially intact portion started about halfway up. Other than continuing to walk around the facility, there wasn’t any other obvious paths of travel besides climbing up the pile. After a brief, whispered debate, we decided to risk the climb to the intact portion of the building. Though there were plenty of holds and surfaces to climb up on, it was a difficult climb because it was so hard to see. Many of the segments were hidden in shadow or were dead ends that we had to back ourselves out of. Mostly we had to blindly grope for our holds and guess at which line to follow. We also couldn’t really tell the stability and security of the concrete remains we were climbing. This is where it all went to shit for me. I remember being about halfway up the pile just a few feet from a blown-out window, when suddenly I felt something move beneath my feet. Large sections of concrete shifted around me and I was quickly in a free fall. I bounce off a surface below me and a few moments later I hit something hard and immediately blacked out.

When I came to I was lying face up on a cold concrete slab in almost absolute darkness. My head was throbbing and a warm iron taste had filled my mouth. I remember hearing the faint sounds of what seemed like Peter and Greg arguing. I let out a broken yell calling their names but pain in my chest quickly silenced me. I waited without a response. I felt for my phone in my pocket but noticed it’s bent shape. It had been destroyed in the fall. I listened for a little longer, still unsure if it was even them that I heard. Without any sign they were coming to me, I had to accept that I was on my own then, and hoped it would only be for the time being.

I fear the worst for Greg and Peter. I don’t know where they are or what happened to them. My cell phone is a broken mess and we don’t have a home phone. Besides, I don’t have their numbers memorized or anything. Maybe I’ll try to get a hold of my mom somehow once I’ve finished here or wait until she’s home to have her call their parents.

I tried sitting myself up but was immediately greeted with the same pain in my chest and a new pain in my right leg. I could feel a wetness around the back of my head and my right thigh but nothing evident on my chest. Even though my backpack probably broke most of my fall, it didn’t do much for my head. I probably was concussed, possibly still am, and I think I’ve broken rib or two as well, not to mention the tear in my leg. I’m pretty messed up right now to be honest, and probably need to go to the hospital soon, but I feel stable enough at least, and I have to finish this now because I might not get another opportunity before I

Fuck, I just got that feeling again. A rush of severe anxiety, paranoia, and pain, like something is projecting onto me a horrible sense of impending predation and mutilation. It’s like a sudden gripping fear intended to wound and immobilize before a predator comes in for the kill. How many times now has this happened? More than a few I think, but I’m struggling to remember them beyond just a blur of panic and terror. I somehow know I’m running out of time. I’ll try to hurry as much as I can but there are still things I need to try to remember.

After the fall I took off my backpack and surveyed what was inside. The flashlight resting on top was destroyed, its lens shattered and its plastic case split into almost three separate pieces. Next was my water bottle which was bent five degrees but still holding water. Then my jacket and the 50 feet of rope. I also had the first aid kit, which was a little more than an assortment of Band-Aids, and this had mostly survived except for the portable bottle of hand sanitizer that exploded. My Swiss Army knife in the outer pouch was also fine. Lastly, I pulled out my father’s old digital camcorder. The hard plastic case which held the camcorder and a few spare batteries was cracked on one side, but otherwise looked ok.

I’m not even sure how I feel about that camcorder. I brought it because we were going to document our investigation and anything we found. It was much better quality than our phones, and even had night vision and flashlight functions. But now I’m terrified of the content that it recorded. Part of me is glad I had dropped it down there but part of me reals at the loss of irrefutable evidence [of the] danger that exists in this world and the value it might have served to warn others. All I can do now is tell of my experience and hope this is enough of a warning.

After I had searched through my backpack and inventoried everything that was laying in front of me, I remember removing the camcorder from its case and turning it on. The lens was cracked, but the digital screen was intact. I turned on the flashlight function and initially shined it into the darkness. I could see nothing but black after about thirty feet. The night vision function revealed even less. I started recording then turned the light onto myself to assess my injuries. When I got to my leg however, I thought I had really messed up at the time. Sticking through the skin and jeans of my outer right thigh was a piece of rebar I had landed on when I fell.

I grunted a brief introduction to the camcorder while I lay there. I was trying to mentally prepare myself for what I was about to do and thought the distraction would help. I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and yanked upward on my thigh. I let out a scream of pain. Ultimately my efforts had freed my leg, but only because the steel had found a new exit, tearing sideways through my flesh and jeans until it was free. It seemed pretty bad at the time, with a moderate stream of dark red blood flowing down my leg and soaking a large area of what remained of my jeans. I grabbed a sanitizer-soaked roll of gauze and wrapped it around my thigh, which was almost as painful as the act of freeing my leg. I balled up the free end of the gauze and quickly tied it up with a strip from my shirt. It was a crude imitation from watching too many movies, but the pressure was enough to minimize the bleeding and it probably saved me from an infection. Had it been any deeper, I could have—let’s just say after all that happened it’s a fucking miracle that I am still alive. I had blacked out after the fall, and this was the second time my body struggled with consciousness. It took a while for the pain to lessen and after spending about thirty minutes collecting myself, I finally had the strength to sit up.

At this moment, especially given my injuries, it really started to hit me how dire my situation was. I was trapped in the remains of a facility shrouded in whatever secret my father was a part of, a secret I didn’t know of at the time but who’s actuality was far worse than anything I could have imagined. I had no idea how to escape, and I was practically blind even with the camcorder. I remember being afraid and feeling trapped, even crying and swearing how stupid this whole plan had been. I had stopped being interested in the mystery the moment I fell, and I just wanted to go home. But looking back, these emotions were mild to the emotions I feel now. They lacked the heavy sense of dread and unrelenting paranoia of what I might have done, what I might be responsible for… and what still might happen to me.

After spending some more time collecting myself, I assessed my options. I could wait here for help, but it had already been twenty or thirty minutes and I hadn’t heard anything in the way of a rescue or investigation. I thought that it was possible the remains settled from time to time and those instances were unnotable to the guards. I also thought about their response right after the collapse, and how they left so many people behind. Even if they were aware, I didn’t have faith that they would come to get me. I decided I would have to escape on my own.

I managed to stand up and put some weight on my leg. I lowered myself off the concrete slab and hobbled into the darkness to test my mobility. With just the light from my camcorder I could see enough to not walk into anything, but the hard shadows created by the light made it difficult to notice the hole in the floor I was approaching, which was hidden in the shadow of another piece of concrete. It was only because I was limping that I had enough time to stop myself from falling in. I came to the realization that the only way I was going to get out of this alive was to stay alert and think very carefully about every move I made. Probably the only intelligible thought I had up to this point.

I struggled for what seemed liked half my life through the endless maze that was the abandoned remains of that facility. The place my father had worked was much more extensive than I had realized and my perception of time down there was exceptionally distorted, like every minute in the dark was hours long in reality. Or perhaps it’s my memory that’s distorted, I just can’t tell. But I must have passed through hundreds of charred and dust-filled offices, conference rooms, and storage spaces. The place was huge, there were even more areas I couldn’t access because they were too damaged to be explored. The building didn’t look that impressive from the outside, even when it was still standing. Maybe only slightly bigger than my elementary school. But below the visible building was dozens of underground floors that seemed to spread wider than the building itself, containing hundreds if not thousands of rooms used for various purposes.

Over time I had slowly made my way deeper into the facility, a result of continuous dead ends leaving me no other choice but to go down staircases or elevator shafts or collapses in the floor. A few times I had to descend with no real way to get back up. But much of my experience descending that facility is just a blur. Intermittent memories that together almost represent an entire lifespan of experiences. So many dark and damaged rooms and hallways almost indistinguishable from one other. I remember walking and climbing over obstacles by camera night vision, sitting down, standing, descending and ascending, and occasionally shining my light on the many things that caught my attention. But I also remember instances where I couldn’t figure out how I had gotten from one location to another. Instances where I seemed to space out for minutes or hours on end, stuck in place. There were moments of hunger, thirst, and struggling to stay awake. A few near misses where I almost fell through holes in the floor. And moments where I broke down and quietly sobbed about how futile my escape was. I was so desperate and afraid I’d be trapped down there and truthfully, it almost got the best of me.

When I first started my descent, I was extremely cautious of every new room I entered and step I took, and my pace was admittingly slow. Everything was so dark, and the air in the facility was saturated with an eerie, heavy silence that persisted wherever I went. Only my footsteps, which made a soft crunch in the layer of dust and ash, could barely be heard. In the silence and surrounding darkness my imagination got the best of me at times. As I continued my descent however, my pain lessened and the repetition made it easier to interpret my surrounding and cope with the diminished visibility and lack of sound. I quietly and more confidently navigated the remains, and over time the amount of observed destruction gave way to areas of the facility that were less damaged the deeper I went. I noticed that office furniture and equipment became more recognizable and that I could even make out some of the items on desks and shelves in the light or night vision of the camcorder. But there was something else I began to notice as well the more recognizable my surroundings became. It still sickens me that they could do this to so many people. That they didn’t have a better way to contain their mistake. All those families… my father

The distinct shapes of human bodies became more apparent the deeper into the facility I went. At first there were only black masses the approximate size of a human scattered on the floors of obvious working spaces. But the bodies became more familiar and distinct as I continued, charred and withered individuals lying on the floors of burned cubicles or even still sitting in chairs in their offices or at their desks. I remember the moment when I first realized I was looking at a human body. I had descended a section of stair case when I came upon a door. When I had pulled the door open, a blacken corpse leaning against the other side slid to the ground in front of me. The skull of a women looked directly at me, half covered in withered, burnt tissue with patches of long, frail black hair. Her empty sockets made what I was suddenly looking at almost instantly recognizable. I immediately jumped back out of shock almost falling through the missing section of stairs. After that I became extremely aware of the dozens of bodies around me that I was casually passing. I thought about how one of these could have even been my father. I didn’t like being around all that death but I couldn’t escape it at the time. The harsh reality of that place was truly overwhelming.

I was exhausted and in pain. I had consumed all my water early on and was incredibly thirsty. I was on the last of my batteries, only using the camcorder when I absolutely needed to. I was so tired I caught myself falling asleep several times. My muscles ached and my limp became a slow shuffle. I had to have ascended and descended the levels almost 100 times by the end sacrificing all my rope in the process. I was probably twenty-five or thirty stories underground when I reached my limit. I came to a final set of stairs. Really, I think these stairs were my last option and only way forward in the end. I had investigated virtually every other possible path in that God-forsaken facility that could have brought me to the surface. I had no more energy or will power to explore any further. My condition was dire and I knew it. I needed sleep most of all, and in that moment, I was almost afraid if I fell asleep, that I would never wake up. So I made up my mind that I would descend these stairs, see what I could see, and if it ended up being another dead end, I’d give into my weariness.

The industrial stairway descended straight down a level. At the bottom was featureless dusty hallway about 100 feet long with a single set of double doors at the end. No other doors or passageways connected to this hallway. As I approached the large metal doors, atop their frame I could read a sign

Sorry, it happened again. Something is happening to—something is wrong with me. Fear and panic and anger all suddenly well up inside of me at once and the dull pain of my injuries flare up until it’s almost unbearable. Especially my heel. It’s almost as if it’s in response to something. I can feel a heat coursing through my body and my vision momentarily fade. This sensation is getting worse each time. And in these moments, beneath the fear and pain, I feel… anger? Hatred? I can’t make sense of it. I don’t know how much more of this I can bear.

What I was looking at atop the double doors was a sign in block letters that read “SUB-LEVEL 0”. I remember thinking that this sign was familiar in some way, but at the time couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Likely because of my exhaustion and diminished cognitive function, I didn’t connect this reference to the last words I had heard my father speak. This was where my father had worked in the facility.

The doors each had a small window and I raised my hand in an unconscious motion to wipe the dust from one of the windows. I shined my camcorder through the window and looked in to once again see nothing but darkness . I grabbed the doorhandle and slowly turned it. I gently pushed on the door and after a moment it opened with a soft metallic grinding noise that subtly echoed through the dark. I slipped inside and allowed the door to closed behind me.

I briefly swept my camcorder light across this new room before turning it off, continuing to conserve as much power as I could. The room was modest in size, with lockers lining both walls, as well as benches, lab coats, and some kind of clean suit hanging in the corner. I could see all four walls which meant I could determine possible paths of travel. Besides the door I entered, there were two doors evenly spaced on the wall opposite of me. I thought I’d press on just a bit further but I couldn’t resist the temptation to sit on one of the benches. I shuffled to one side of the room reaching into the dark where I last identified the closest bench. After a few steps my leg made contact and I slowly spun around collapsing onto it. I slumped forward into my hands, resting my elbows on my knees, and released the tension in my muscles. I sat there for a long time, fighting the decision to give in to my exhaustion or to keep going just a little bit further.

As I faded, the camcorder in my lap slowly began to slide down my leg. I didn’t notice at first, but the sensation triggered an automatic response, the one when something is just about to fall and you react to catch it. Jerking my body and arms in the direction of the camcorder, I reached with both hands to catch it before it fell. The quickening of my heartbeat momentarily spurred me awake, and I collected what little resolve I had left to stand up. Now on my feet I repositioned my hand on the camcorder and turned the light on again. I was now facing the lockers and this was when I noticed each locker had a nameplate on it with the first letter of the first name and full last name spelled out. I paused and wondered if I’d recognize any names, including my father’s. I slowly paced the lockers, reading about a dozen unrecognized names before something caught my eye. A brown streak appeared on one of the lockers and the smear continued across several other lockers up ahead. Following the streak, I noticed a locker that casted a different shadow under the camcorder light. I was taken back by what I saw.

This locker was bent outward as if forced open, and on the outside of the locker was several darker streaks and spots of brown. That’s when I connected that the brown markings were actually dried blood. My next instinct was to look at the name on this locker. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that this was my father’s locker the moment I saw it. When I opened it, it was empty. But on the ground in front of the locker, leading to one of the two doors I had seen, was a thick trail of brown drops of dried blood, partially obscured under the layer of dust on the floor. I followed the trail of blood to the door and opened it.

This room was tiny and very odd. It was about the size of a bathroom or walk-in closet. The smooth metal walls were covered in an array of holes on either side and an arch-like fixture supported what looked to be several large fluorescent bulbs. The door on the other end of the room wouldn’t open until I had secured the door I had entered. I had to follow the pattern of blood stains to figure out how to operate the door’s closing and opening mechanisms from the inside.

Once through both doors of this small room, I entered a space that was much larger by contrast, bigger than any of the other rooms I had entered in the facility. My camcorder light could barely make out the walls to my left and right, and couldn’t reach whatever wall lied ahead. As I moved forward my feet slightly echoed with ever step I took. I could make out more desks and office equipment in the light in front of me. I was still exhausted, but discovering my father’s locker, the blood, and just the uniqueness of the place sparked new determination in me. As I moved along, I could make out taller silhouettes of objects towards the middle of the room. Through a layer of dust, the objects glistened in the camcorder’s flashlight. They looked like the type of equipment and machines used for science and chemistry, items like the machines and equipment I had also found in my father’s office, but bigger. Upon seeing these things, I started formulating questions in my head about my father. “If this is where my father worked, what did he do specifically? What projects was he working on? And why did they have to destroy the facility?”

Not really realizing it, I had forgotten about the trail of blood and was quickening my pace towards the equipment. I blame my carelessness and my tiredness and fatigue. The potential danger I knew about never even dawned on me in these moments. My curiosity took over and led me to the center of the room where I grabbed on to the idea that I had somehow finally found some last piece to the puzzle. I’ve been dreading this next part. Please bear with me.

I was walking towards the center of the room when something… caught the corner [of my eye and] I fucking saw it.

The faintest shadow crept slowly across the room. I froze mid step when I saw it, only able to move my eyes towards its direction. It stood upright, humanoid in shape, but blobby and malformed. I couldn’t hear anything as it moved. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me at first. It had to have noticed me and the light emitting from my camcorder but didn’t react, and it soon moved beyond my field of view. I knew I would have to do something quickly. An instinct told me letting that unknown thing get behind me was dangerous. This was certainly true. I summoned all my courage. In one swift movement, I twisted my body, shining the light directly on it. What I saw was… unfathomable. It makes me fucking ill even thinking about it.

A few feet in front of me was a horrific compilation of skin, flesh, and bone, all in incorrect proportions, constructed to just barely represent the shape of a human being. Its necrotic and peeling skin and flesh revealed a twisted and deformed skeletal system. Viscera hung loosely where it’s stomach should have been. And dripping on to the floor was some kind of yellow puss-like fluid oozing from various pale growths and orifices on the creature. But the most terrifying and difficult to look at aspect of this creature was its eyes. In the accumulation of flesh and skull that was this creature’s head were two black cavities. Inside each enlarged socket gleamed two shriveled eyeballs connected by a flimsy optic nerve, somehow suspended in each void. What stood motionless before me could, in no way, be possible. Each detail of this creature has been vividly and permanently burned into my mind. It’s so repulsive and terrifying. I can feel it eating at my sanity every time I think about that fucking stare.

Suddenly I began to smell the creature in front of me. Putrid and vile, the air burned as it entered my nostrils. The smell of decay and death. I couldn’t control my reflex. I immediately vomited, trying my best not to lose sight of this thing. The moment I did this was the moment the creature moved. The flesh that covered its mouth began to separate to unbelievable lengths. A third black void was reviled and the creature screamed.

The sheer intensity of sound overrode all my other senses. It was painfully loud. Nothing could have prepared me for that. I lost all feeling in my body and my vision darkened. The creature twitched and the last thing I saw before hitting the floor was the blur of the creature escaping into the darkness. Its speed was unnatural.

I don’t know why the damn creature left me and didn’t kill me then. I know for certain it’s hungry. I’ve felt it’s bloodlust. I was unconscious for at least several minutes. I think it could have easily ripped me to pieces while I lay helpless on the floor. Maybe I startled it? Or maybe it thought I was dead? I’ve thought about it and fuck if any of this makes sense. When I finally did regain consciousness, I immediately noticed I could see the entire room I was in. Somehow the large room had been restored with power and yellow hazard lights were flashing across the high ceiling. I could also hear a quiet hum of a distant machine somewhere beyond the room.

Shortly after pushing through my grogginess, and regaining my bearings and awareness of the situation, I quickly stood up and scanned my surroundings. The creature was nowhere to be found. I checked the camcorder and it was still on and recording but in a low power mode, flashlight disabled. I don’t know what I would’ve have done if the power hadn’t been restored. I had also pissed myself, likely too a result off losing control of my body. The front of my pants was still warm, so I know I wasn’t out for long. Even though I didn’t see the creature, dread and panic was slowly building up in me. I did a second scan of the room, looking for paths of travel. My attention was immediately grabbed by two small floodlights shining on the wall at the far end of the room. The light revealed a steel, ten-foot diameter, vault-like door centered on the wall. Able to move more freely in the modest ambient light, I quickly fled towards this new feature.

The circular door sat on a large rack and pinion system designed to roll open or closed. The door was massive and had to be almost a foot thick. There was a console dimly lit right in front of the door as well, which I correctly determined to interface with the vault door. Numerous buttons, gauges, and switches covered the panels of the console. I hastily blew off some of the dust and after spending several minutes in desperation pressing or hitting all of them, a simple turn of a nearby key initiated the process. A safety alarm followed by an electronic winding noise filled the room I was in. A few seconds later the door made two loud thumping noises and shifted towards me, knocking off a large amount of dust in the process. As the dust cloud dispersed, the top rack began to slide to the left, rolling the door slowly out of the way. I remember my panic being overcome by the entrancing motion and how unreal this was. Almost like some sort of bank vault or nuclear bunker. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that door was not meant to prevent things from entering, but rather to keep horrible things from escaping. I am so fucking stupid for ignoring the all warnings and making this idiotic plan to begin with. I can’t help but think I’ve disturbed some evil down there. Why couldn’t I have just left things alone? I mean, is there anything I can even do now? The door thumped one last time as it hit the end of the track. The alarm shut off and its final echo faded into the background.

Behind the massive door was another set of metal doors, regular in size but without windows, and perfectly clean from the dust that coated everything else in the facility. It was all so surreal I still hadn’t moved from when the door started to open. I was just standing there, starring at the clean metal surfaces of the door trying to comprehend what this all meant. That’s when my second encounter happened. Suddenly the room filled with a new noise. A bloodcurdling scream coming from somewhere beyond the large room I was in. My panic peaked and I froze in place. The echo initially masked its direction but soon I could hear the sound of aggressive shuffling. As the sound got louder, I remained motionless, unable to turn towards the direction of the incoming noise or move toward plausible paths of escape.

My greatest fear was realized when I heard the slamming open of a door connected to this room. The danger hit some threshold within me, and my body reacted to the threat, simultaneously sprinting towards the clean metal doors and turning my head in the direction of the noise. What I saw in that moment gives me fucking terrors anytime I think about it. I could see the creature running at me in a horrid and deranged half-bipedal, half-quadrupedal motion as it struggled to stay upright. I could sense it’s rage. The creature’s rotting flesh and viscera flapped against itself and dragged on the floor as it ran, and thick flows of puss streaked across its body. Its nightmarish eyes filled with hate were fixated on me. I fought through the pain of my injuries as I ran, turning back to face the metal doors. The creature was probably about 100 feet from me when I slammed into the door. I had no idea if this door was locked, but I didn’t really have a choice. Miraculously, the door opened with ease when I rotated the handle. I slipped my body behind the door, quickly ramming my shoulder into it, separating me from that terrible creature. Immediately as the door clicked closed, the creature impacted the metal. The door bent slightly under the force and I was afraid it might eventually give way. But the door held. The creature shrieked in pain or anger, or both, and continued to throw itself at the door with diminishing effect. I scrambled to engage the door’s locking system and crawled away.

The creature clawed and bashed into the door a few more times before letting out another terrible scream and running away. I felt like I could sense the malice and hostility in every one of their screams. Like it was emitting some intangible signal or force that my body and mind actually responded to. I really want to say my mind fabricated these sensations because of the stress but it seems just too vivid. I can almost remember the feeling when I focus my thoughts. It’s fucking horrible.

I laid there on the cold metal floor, curling into a ball as I listened to the eerie silence on the other side of the door. My adrenaline soon faded causing the pain of my injuries and fatigue to return to my body. I began to cry. I had reached my limit, I really thought I was going to die. I would be trapped behind this door and eventually waste away or that creature was going to rip apart my body. I couldn’t run or fight through another encounter with that creature. I was at my lowest point I had ever been in my life. I think this is when my mind really began to react to the psychological trauma of witnessing and experiencing something so wrong, so inconceivable and threatening, that even the recollection of such a thing is like acid to my sanity. It was like my brain was shutting down, no longer processing any more than the bare minimum needed to function and survive. My mind went numb and I eventually passed out on the floor. Something I so desperately needed.

I awoke sometime later. I have no idea how long I was out for. I was no longer sleepy, but my hunger and thirst were even more intense than before, and my energy was depleted to a level that even standing was difficult. I sat there and worked through my thoughts and feelings, and reflected on my mental wellbeing. I knew I was fucked up but I was still alive. I slowly pulled myself off the floor. The pain of my injuries was down to a dull sensation, but still significantly noticeable as I moved around. The room I had escaped to was very different from everything else I had experienced in that facility. Every surface looked to be completely metal. Metal walls, floors, cabinets, and tables, and a metal ceiling which was arrayed with dim lights. The place was immaculate in contrast to the rest of the facility. No papers or objects were scattered about this room and the polished walls and floors lacked even a single speck of dust. By design or by misfortune, the destruction they tried to employ never reached this place.

I shuffled to the nearest table, each step more forced than the last. My mental health was not the only thing weighing me down, my body was reaching its physical limit too. I moved from table to table, making my way to the other end of the room. Besides the door I just entered, there was about a dozen other doors in this room leading to who knows where. I was afraid that my attempt to escape could mean that I’d have to explore all of them. At the time I couldn’t shake the thought that my journey through this forsaken labyrinth wasn’t nearing its end, and this new area I found was just a nexus to an endless number of rooms and corridors descending forever into the earth. My fleeting effort to escape would perpetuate until I eventually died of dehydration or became prey to that creature. There were so many instances where I almost gave in to these thoughts of hopelessness and futility. Nevertheless, for some reason I held on. Continuing past the many doors, I noticed in the far corner of the room a small enclosure that stood atop a sort of mezzanine-like structure. I started towards its short set of stairs. Monitors, computers, and control panels covered the interior of the enclosure except the window that overlooked the room I was in. As I moved into the enclosure, through the window I could see the door that separated me from that creature and confirmed visually that it was still secure.

The enclosure was aglow with a solid red hazard light, plus the ambient light that was coming in through the window and open door. It was hard to say exactly what this space was used for but it was evident that it was a central control point for some operation. I speculated for a moment before something else caught my eye. On the wall, hidden behind some computer monitors was a series of switches. The switch in the middle was larger than the rest, and like the big lever circuit breaker type switches you would see in some Si-Fi movie or something. It had a clear plastic cover and a small red light illuminating it. The name plate above the switch read “MASTER RESET”.

I had no fucking idea the mistake I was about to make by pulling that switch. First it was the vault door, then this. I’m not even sure how many there are—I’m terrified it’s much worse than I imagine. But how could I have known? I would do anything to take it back. I honestly believe it would have been better if I had just stayed down there and met my end. I don’t know. God, I’ve been so fucking stupid about all of this.

This is what happened. After pulling the switch a humming noise filled the room. Bright lights flooded the space outside the enclosure. All the computers simultaneously booted up and the control panels powered on. After several seconds of boot scripts and loading screens, each monitor, one by one, displayed its true purpose. Some glowed red or a dull gray, a few showed empty rooms and hallways. Others remained dark. In the corner of almost every screen was a small grouping of text. Time and date followed by a location it seemed. These were live video feeds to parts of the facility. That’s when I noticed sudden movement on one of the monitors.

In one of the dull grey displays was a rough circle formed out of a group of distorted shapes. They were crouched and huddled around something on the floor. It was unmistakable to me what those shapes truly were. More of those creatures. The creatures seemed to be violently convulsing over something, but I couldn’t tell if that was a glitch with the grainy display or not. As my imagination filled in the missing details, I could only think that these creatures were performing some kind of horrible feeding ritual. The violence they would use to devour their prey. It almost felt like it was satanic in nature.

For a split second the screen cut to static. When it returned, my… my sanity came under attack once again. Seven sets of black empty eyes were staring directly at me through the monitor. Their heads were turned in impossible directions and they had become completely motionless, glaring right at me. For some time, I couldn’t break my gaze from the screen. Something so damaging and otherworldly but also so perversely curious. The hair on my body stood at end. I was experiencing that sensation again, a collective indefinable pressure of immense malice and intent and immobilizing fear. It felt like I was looking directly into Hell, and it was welcoming me. When I consider this and everything else that’s happened, I still struggle with how any of this could even be possible.

Their mouths all simultaneously stretched open to more than half their height. I remember stopping my breath and tensing my body expecting the worst but I couldn’t hear anything. Then moments later the sound reached my ears. Echoing throughout the facility it was chilling, dreadful, and filled with more hate and violence then before. Instinctively I shifted my vision from the monitor to the direction the noise was coming from. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

The door I had so desperately locked was now wide open. Nothing but a strobing yellow haze could be seen beyond the door. All of the other doors in the room were open too. Something must have happened when I pulled that switch. I reverted my eyes back to the monitor. The creatures were gone. All that remained was a distorted object on the floor in a pool of dark liquid. I really don’t want to think about what that could have been.

Panic quickly set in again as I willed myself out of the enclosure into the metallic room. My heartrate had skyrocketed but the adrenaline and energy was slow to reach my drained muscles. I gradually went from a stiff jog to a forced run towards the door I had come in through. I thought if I could just close and relock the door maybe I would be safe again. What a cruel joke. As I was running to that door, I could hear noises coming from beyond the strobing darkness. The shuffling and grunts became louder as I got closer to the door. I ran as hard as I could, keeping focus on the opened doorway for any sign of those creatures. That’s when I realized something wasn’t right. I stopped dead in my tracks.

Now directly in the middle of the room, I realized that the door I was running to was not the only door emitting noise. Movement could be heard coming from the other open doors in the room as well. With the last bit of instinct or courage or of whatever I had left in me, I immediately turned around and sprinted back towards the enclosure. Had I delayed then even a second… I desperately checked every door for somewhere to escape to. But every time I moved toward one of the open doors, I could hear noises coming from them. Finally, I had reached the end of the room. I knew that time was running out. I could hear the rage behind me getting louder and louder, like a stampede of rabid animals. The wall I was facing had only two opened doors left to check. I quickly listened for a clue to tell me which door I should run through but I didn’t hear anything out of either door. I so desperately wanted to make the right choice. My life then really did boiled down to a flip of a coin. Left or right? I made my decision; I couldn’t have dwelled on it any longer.

The first creature barreled into the opposite end of the room from the unlocked door. I ran through the door I chose, shutting it behind me. But this door didn’t have a lock on it like the other one so I quickly decided to keep on running despite my body’s protests. In front of me was a long, straight concrete corridor that disappeared into darkness. No other doors or windows, or anything in the hallway I could see. Instinctively I went to reach for my camcorder, but it was at this point I realized I hadn’t felt its weight around my neck or its impacts on my chest as I ran. I must have dropped it at some point or forgotten to pick it up after my episode. I’m kind of glad I did lose it because I don’t think I would ever have the courage to watch what I recorded, and I wouldn’t wish for anyone to see the nightmares that I’ve seen. Besides, at this point it wouldn’t have helped me much in the darkness anyway.

I stumbled forward losing confidence in every blind step I took, my only assurance the wall I was dragging my fingers against. The door didn’t hold for long. On the third impact to the door the creature broke through with a snarl. For some reason I looked behind me. Maybe it was to gauge how much time I would have before it would eventually get me, but when I looked, I saw not only the first creature, but many creatures behind it. They were not as I expected.

These creatures were smaller, almost chimp like in the shape of their silhouettes and the way they moved. Fifteen or twenty sets of angry voids pierced me from a distance. Had l looked a moment longer I think I would have succumbed to their hatred and violence. Instead, I screamed for the second time that night. A scream of determination and desperation.

I ran as hard as I could through the darkness. Thirty seconds? A minute? Five or ten minutes? I have no idea how long I ran for. Pain swelled in my legs, and my chest and lungs felt like they were on fire. I was just waiting to run right into a wall or fall through some other hole in the floor. This was the pinnacle of my nightmare. Helplessly running in complete darkness from these incomprehensibly horrible monsters for seemingly all of eternity. Like this was some kind of divine punishment for some terrible sin I had committed. I could hear the creatures getting closer to me and just kept on thinking “this is it, this is it”.

Just as I was about to give in, my finger lost contact with the wall and my hand extended beyond the wall’s plane. On my next step I pivoted and reached into this new volume of darkness. There was a perpendicular corridor intersecting the one I was running through. When I had shifted my body around enough to see down this new corridor, a flashing red glow looked to be coming from the ceiling about 100 feet away. I bounced off the wall and took no more than a few steps towards the glow when the grotesque rhythm of the creatures’ gait changed. I could hear the collision of wet flesh and the braking of bones as the creatures collided into the wall and each other trying to turn the corner. They snarled and growled at both each other and at me for evading them. Fuck them.

As I approached, the glow faintly illuminated a large pile of broken concrete that blocked most of the corridor. That’s when I noticed the glow was actually coming through a hole in the ceiling. Part of the ceiling was still intact and a section of it drooped down just behind the concrete pile. I didn’t really have time to assess whether I could make it to the hole, I just lunged and scrambled up the pile as fast as I could. I nearly stabbed myself in the chest with a protruding piece of rebar as I climbed. Keeping as much momentum as possible I jumped upward the instant I reached the top. My forearms and stomach slammed into the dip in the ceiling while my legs swung under me. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my chest, but I had just gotten enough of my torso onto the ledge that my center of gravity prevented me from sliding backward. I pushed forward until one knee got leverage, and crawled my way to level ground.

Still lurching forward, I retched on my hands and knees and vomited blood and bile as I struggled to catch my breath. Forcing myself to stand I paused just for a moment to let the red hazard light illuminate the new level. Or what was left of it. I was standing in what used to be the center of a medium sized room. The left side of the room however was completely collapsed, and there was significant damage to what remained. Toppled metal storage shelves, crushed boxes, and large chunks of concrete were everywhere. I started toward the least damaged path through the room. Suddenly, a deathly shriek filled my ears. The creatures had reached the bottom of the pile, and I thought again I could hear the crunching of bones and tearing of flesh as they crashed into the concrete. One might have been impaled on protruding rebar just as I almost had. They were climbing and fighting over one another then trying to be the first to take me. Gurgles, barks, and growls accompanied by wet fleshly sounds and the repetitive snapping of teeth and jaws amplified. Their bloodlust was almost palpable.

I struggled through the room kicking up a thick layer of dust. The blackness of the dust and the moving shadows of holes in the floor were almost indistinguishable in the strobing red light. I must have almost fell into a hole three or four times while in that room. I strained and shuffled away from the creatures as I looked for a clear path forward. That’s when I notice a dimly illuminated green sign with a white arrow on the bottom of the wall I was heading towards. Those fucking exit arrow guides saved me. I don’t really know how to explain what went through my mind when I saw that sign or what emotions I felt, but it was like having pain and death as your only option for so long and being presented any alternative. I tightly gripped whatever hope grew in me, and became determined to escape in that moment.

But as if some sick inescapable curse was forced upon me, several of those creatures, including the humanoid one, had managed to reach the level I was on. As if in the exact moment I saw the sign, it… it saw me again and [illegible] screamed the loudest and most violent scream yet. I immediately could anticipate this creature tearing me apart and the immense pain I’d feel as it devoured my flesh. But that’s not

I just lost myself again, that feeling again, like my consciousness just fucking imploded into that singular hateful thought in response and… it’s the fucking same. The panic, pain, rage and heat came on stronger than ever just at the exact moment I was—How many times has it now been? There’s something happening to my body and mind, and something more about those creatures. I don’t understand it, but in the moment it screamed, I somehow knew my flesh and physical form would not be enough to satiate its hunger and brutality. I’m having trouble putting it into words but I think they want something more than just to consume me. I think they want to control me—no, use me for something. It’s like there is something in my mind, a kind of stimuli or signal trying to take over. I thought I was imagining it but now I’m not so sure. I’m finding it harder and harder to regain myself during these flashes and separate what’s real. If this continues to get worse I might—I just need to hurry.

When the creature screamed, my heart palpitated and my vision narrowed. It was like something physically had happened to my mind in response. I lost a few moments of consciousness then, and I really don’t think it was because of my head injury. The next thing I remember, I was running towards a metal door with a dimly lit exit sign affixed above its frame. I shoved the door open to find a very small room. In the pulsating red haze was a glimmer of the only object in this room: a metal ladder. I consumed what remained of my strength and defiance to jump up that ladder. The moment I was just high enough to be out of the creature’s reach was the moment they all slammed into the ladder. I clung to the rungs as it abruptly jostled, nearly losing my grip. Just as I was regaining my position on the ladder, I felt a sharp pain across my right heel just above my shoe. The humanoid creature climbing over the others had been able to cut me with something beneath the decaying flesh of its arm. I could feel the bloodlust from the creature like radiating heat. Operating on what I assume was pure survival instinct I threw myself upward on the ladder. The creature screamed again and one more time my mind went dark in response.

My memory is just bits and pieces after that. I remember lying face up on ground under a dim sky next to an open hatch, gasping for air and coughing up blood. I remember hearing the disturbing and rageful noises that were coming up from the hatch, and the terror that rose up in me. I remember being totally exhausted, hobbling my way through a dark forest, this immeasurable feeling of paranoia over me like I was still being chased and those creatures would suddenly appear from behind a tree or bush and final get me. I still feel it now, like I’m being watched from afar, endlessly hunted. Somehow, I had made it back to the perimeter fence and found the section we had initially passed under. I believe the sun was rising by this point so maybe I had instinctively used that to find my direction, I don’t really know. I was driven by so much panic and the singular thought of just getting home, it seems impossible that I found my way out at all.

I eventually reached the road and where we had ditched our bikes. I think Peter’s and Greg’s bikes were still there, but I don’t—or can’t—remember seeing them. It’s all fragmented until the moment I awoke on my bedroom floor. The dread of what I may have done has already dawn on me. The one thing I can’t fucking remember is if I had closed that damn hatch. And when I think about my paranoia, and the feeling of being chased through the forest, I can’t shake its authenticity even though I don’t remember actually seeing them. Part of me thinks I would be dead now if they had managed to follow me to the surface but something tells me it’s not all in my head. For mine, and everyone’s sake, I sure fucking hope I closed it.

I’ve written as much as I can now. I’m really scared of what might still happen to me but I at least need to go to the hospital. Most importantly I need to keep this journal safe until I can get it into the right hands, and that might take some time.

April 24, 2008

It’s becoming harder and harder to function. My thoughts keep being pulled to those incomprehensible creatures I witnessed down there and their rage towards me, and whether or not I closed that damn hatch. I just can’t reassure myself that I didn’t let those things escape and it’s been continually eating at my sanity. How can any of this be real? But how could myself or anyone even imagine or have delusions about something so horribly demented and wrong? The vividness of every detail gives the memories I do have much credibility. And my body and mind keep on having these tangible reactions to the trauma or something that’s happening within me, and I know these are real too. The episodes are getting worse by the day, and though the medication has slowed its progress, it’s losing its effect. It feels like it’s almost building to something and I’m terrified of what that actually will mean for me, and what I might have to do when it comes to it.

I was released from the hospital today, and what little the medication has done for my mental state and pain, I think it’s the only reason I’ve been able to hold on. I made up a story about me falling off my bike into a ditch. My mom was so concerned about my injury I don’t think she even questioned how it happened. I think the doctor had some doubts. They were able to patch up my leg and gave me some blood and fluids for my dehydration. They say my chest and head will heal on their own. I’ve tried my best to hide my mental distress, and the concussion, pain, and infection in my heel have been good excuses for my continued episodes and why I haven’t been able to sleep. I’m better when it’s light out and there are people around. I hate the night, I hate the darkness. In the dark I continually see that same silhouette creeping about and I get faint wafts of that putrid rancid smell of decay and death. The combined senses give the false impression that the monstrosity is actually in the room with me. And the worst is seeing their hollow eyes. Always staring at me within the darkness, just beyond my focus, watching my every move. My mind projects my terrifying memories into my reality in a torturous loop, and the darkness seems to be its catalyst. And the reality I fear now is that this isn’t really over. It might never be. What the fuck can I do?

I’m still working on the best way to get my journal and its warning out to the world. I think I have a solid lead on someone I can trust, but I have to be careful. One mistake might make this journal and everything I’ve been through disappear behind the government’s conspiracy to cover up their mistake. I can only imagine what happened to Peter and Greg. They’re still missing, and if I had to guess, they probably tried to find me after I fell, but also became trapped in the remains of the facility. The fact that they haven’t returned since almost certainly means they’re dead. They definitely avoided the government at least. If they had been found, I’m certain the black suits would have found me by now. Really, its only a matter of time for them, and for me. I have to work faster.

[Date Missing]

I haven’t slept for… how long? A week now? Every fucking time I close my eyes and nod off, I see their repulsive and evil form. Besides the pain I can hardly think of anything else. The medication is practically worthless now and the pain in my heel is getting worse by the hour. The infection is spreading. It looks almost like a necrotic spider bite, but sometimes oozes this disgusting yellowish puss. I’m afraid to tell anyone about it. My mouth is constantly dry and feels sudsy all the time. Water provides only temporarily relief. It’s all my useless body can stomach really. I’ve also continued to experience intense flashes like before, quick waves of fever and strong emotions of fear and anger, but they’re becoming much more physical and destructive. When the flashes happen it’s like a red filter has been put over my mind and I just… hate everything—and most of all I hate myself. During these outbursts I’ve punched holes in the drywall, torn my bedroom door off its hinges, and just this morning completely destroyed my bedroom. They’re happening more frequently and I’m more aggressive each time, and what little moments of clarity I have are diminishing.

I’ve tried my best to cover up my stupid outbursts from my mom, and thankfully for the worst of them I’ve been alone at home, including the one this morning. But I fear it’s just a matter of time before she gets caught in the crossfire or becomes a target for my blind anger and rage. It’s going to be impossible to hide the destruction from her now and for her safety it’d be best if I just disappeared. I don’t think I can live with this cycle of violence and pain controlling me. I can feel my mind and body breaking down. Something is happening to me and I just want it to fucking end. I’ve been thinking about my father, and I think there’s one last thing I can try, but if that doesn’t work, then this will be the end for me.

This will be my last time writing in this journal. I want to send this out, to reveal the secret, to warn of the horrific and violent abomination I’ve discovered, what evils exist within our reality, the thing they… created and failed to destroy. Without the damning evidence of my camcorder, this might be a tough story to believe. But I fucking hope and pray for the world’s sake that you do, and you spread the warning. Go to the police and the government when you’re ready, but don’t let them fucking bury this like they did that facility and my father.

I don’t think I’ll be coming back, so I’ll be leaving a note for my mom in this journal. If you could send it to her, I hope this will bring her some closure.