Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
It didn’t take long to find my way back the main corridor.
I had cautiously cracked the door open, scanning the area just outside as my field of view increased inch by inch, and stepped out when the coast seemed as clear as it was going to get.
The children’s bedrooms or observations rooms or whatever they were continued around a few more corners before opening back into the main facility. None of the one-way mirrors I passed showcased anything of note, and none of the smells that flowed through the air were out of place. The only thing of concern was a faint, irregular thumping sound rebounding off the walls from the main corridor ahead. Bracing for the worst, I shoulder on.
The transition of stepping out of the halls pretending to be a school and back into the starkness of government design sharpens my focus, and I scan up and down the corridor as I rest my hand on Boris’s pistol.
What I see makes the halls of the Administration wing look pristine. Entire chunks of concrete have been gouged out of every visible surface. Broken, bullet-scarred walls offered glimpses into dark rooms beyond, parts of the ceiling hung by rebar and brought the stability of the entire area into question, and deep gouges marred the floors surrounded by dark stains. The sterility of the florescent lighting gave little comfort as more than half of the inlaid lights had been smashed by whatever event exploded through here years ago.
Under the debris scattered across the floor, two floor markings paced the length of the corridor. The orange of the “Testing” and the red of “Containment” markings indicate the way forward to be to my right, with the hallway ending in a T intersection. There the lines separate, the red band jutting to the left and out of sight. The irregular thumping emanating from that direction.
Narrowing my eyes and pursing my lips at the origin of the sound, I check the fastening of the pistol and speaker and make my way to the splitting of the hallway.
After stepping around fallen piping and cracked concrete, I near the intersection and the thumping becomes a pounding, but a drop of relief ripples through my body as the sound is coming from the right leading to “Testing”. I creep over and peek around the corner, clearing the other hallway as I do.
A bare hallway torn to hell extends about 30 feet, ending in a metal door with a bluish sheen, stains similar to the ones back in the Mess Hall stretch halfway from it, ceiling to floor, and seem to writhe in the sparse light. The metal door pounds against its hinges as whatever is on the other side throws it weight into the heavy, blue-hued metal, and as it does, the smell of decay is pushed through the air to where I stand.
I stare at the ghastly sight for a few seconds, before slowly turning my head and looking to the left, down the hallway towards "Containment". A relatively clear hallway (some concrete smashed here and there) extends about 30 feet as well before turning to the right with it's red floor marking.
The pounding from right increases in volume and speed, causing my gaze to snap back to it. The metal door holds it own and barely moves when struck.
…this might be the easiest choice I've had to made since coming down into this hellish complex.
Even though I probably didn't have to, I tip-toe away from the corner leading to the right and scurry down the left path, stepping alongside the red guide line. The pounding turns back into thumping the further I go down the hallway and all but disappears when I turn the corner.
Back in its heyday, the path ahead of me must have imparted a immense feeling of security. Seeing the state it was in now had the exact opposite effect.
What used to be a security checkpoint lay in ruins. The sides featured long panes of shattered glass, empty rooms beyond both, probably where those assigned security detail spent most of their time. Hunks of the bluish metal seen from earlier appeared gnarled and strewn down the length of the hallway. A sentry gun hung from the ceiling to the right, pulled down at such an angle the wires were exposed.
A similar, but more vividly blue door could be seen at the end of the hallway, half of it vertically torn off and the other half resting against its hinges. The red floor marking sped under the chaos and disappeared to the other side of it.
….maybe I should go check out what down the hallway leading to testing first?
I take a step and have a quick, silent laugh at myself as I reach over my combat knife and unholster Boris's pistol and ready it before me. I realize I had been holding my breath and take a few lung-fills, gathering focus. I trace the outline of the polaroid at my hip before stepping over the shattered glass and mangled metal. Angling my body around the jagged door, I step into the failed “Containment” area.
Darkness, just like back in Boris's classroom, greets me. A metallic tang invades my nostrils, giving the air a heaviness that made my mind and body scream at me to turn around and run through the facility looking for an exit.
I stiffen and slowly step further into the room, a small click sounds through the room and rows of clear lights begin to illuminate in front of me. Their soft hum fills the room and their glow begins to strengthen.
A room itself is fairly simple. About as big as a basketball court and with ceiling lower than the classroom but still taller than normal. In front of me stood monoliths of analog computer equipment. Magnetic reels and countless buttons adorned three rows of them. Tower after tower extends back until a railing bisects the room, protecting from a drop off just on the other side of it. A ramp to my left rises to a small, platformed area where 80's era state-of-art research equipment circled around the edges, just tall enough to see over the lofty stacks.
I cautiously step forward, eyeing my corners as I pass each tower, the metallic tang becomes stronger as I approach the railing, giving the air more weight. I notice that on the far end of the room a shimmering reflection against the walls and ceiling as sound begins to mix in with my footsteps. It has a lapping, liquid characteristic to it, but too slow and heavy to be able to place it in my mind. The mystery of the sound is quickly solved, however, as I reach the railing and look down.
The other half of the room drops about 20 feet and centers around a rectangular pit at the far end, filled with a liquid resembling mercury. The tang in the air is no doubt coming from the slowly rippling fluid. The lights above hypnotically reflecting off of it in such a way it could be considered beautiful were it located anywhere else.
Surrounding it were three speakers of such a great size that they dwarfed the monolithic computers behind me. They were angled towards the shimmering liquid, all but one were severely damaged. The one directly behind the pool looked corroded and scarred while the one to the left had been smashed in. Bank of of computers lined the walls where the speakers weren't, heavy cables arching across and along the room between them, where they slowly became more organized and bundles together until three large groupings spread from each speaker and connected to a console situated atop a small, raised platform just before the ferrous-looking liquid. The console looked complicated, but you didn't need a top-degree to notice a clear-paned cavity in its center where a cassette could be placed
“Of-fucking-course it's down there.” I think while cursing whatever fuckwit designed this place.
I look to my right and see the start of a set of stairs that lead down parallel to the railing. I step away from the railing and make my way to the steps when a click similar to when I just walked into the room sounds again. I look back and up at the lights. All were still on except for the first row coming in from the hallway. Not surprising, I guess I should be thankful any of these turned on.
Just before turning away towards the stairs, the darkened light begins to glow again, building in intensity as before, except this time every ounce of me wills and begs it to stay off.
A vivid crimson begins to stretch through the bulb, casting it's unwelcome glow at the start of the room.
Click
The next row of lights shut off and begin to fill just like the row before it, mixing in with the clear lights in a such a way that made my eyes water.
“Nooo no no no no.” I mutter to myself, tearing my gaze away and rushing towards the stairs. I wrap my left hand around the corner of railing and pivot around it.
Click
“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck” I say to myself as I speed down each step, the speaker and hip bag bouncing along.
The pool of churning silver seems to be getting more agitated as it laps over itself and small rounded spikes seems to form for seconds at a time across its surface.
Click
The hauntingly beautiful shimmering cast from the pit before becomes more like a warning as Crimson begin to mix in. The heavy metallic tang begins to have a taste it's becoming so concentrated as I reach the bottom of the stairs. The only thing worse would be-
Click
White light is no longer present anywhere in the room. The all too familiar acidically chemical stench cuts through the room as if there was nothing else competing with it. A column of liquid silver ripples up, sharp spikes rotating down it's center as the rest of it splashes angrily against its container.
I nearly trip over myself rushing to the console, becoming light headed and disoriented from the overpowering smells and the pool of angry silver reflecting Crimson like a disco ball.
The voice The Manifestation cuts through my core for a third time.
“Stop.”
Not entirely of my own accord, I do.
With the angry liquid hazarding in front of me, I shakily turn around and look up at the railing.
The searing points of light gaze down at me, once again filling me with dread. For the first time, It's form is outlined by the Crimson lights above It. It's body wasn't quite as large as I had been imaging it, but that didn't make It any less menacing.
Before either of us could take another action, countless, smaller creatures began swarming over the edge of the railing, falling with sickening wet slap against the stairs and then onto the floor. Their high-pitched shrieks filling the room. An empty space where their eyes should be and their skin pulled tight over their bones, calling them hideous would be kind. With their too large mouths with an unfair amount of teeth, they collectively surged towards me.
I fire Boris's pistol into swarm, stopping a few, but making no real difference. The sound of gunshots ricochet off the walls and disorient me even further. The first pygmy reaches me and jumps onto my shoulders , digging it's razor nails into my skin and screaming into my ear. Others begin grabbing onto other parts of my body and digging their teeth into my skin.
I drop Boris's pistol and fish for the speaker, as I blindly grip it's cylindrical shape, another pygmy jumps onto my shoulders, causing the first one to slip and fall, grabbing onto the strap of the speaker. I hear and feel a snap at my back, and the speaker clatters to the ground.
Throughout all this, the pool of silver must be dancing as the reflected light swirls around the room. I fall backwards on my ass and more pygmies flow over me. The flaring pin-pricks of lights come into view, atop the stairs, one last time before the pain overtakes my body and I drop my head backwards against the ground.
Accepting my fate to be torn apart by thousands of teeth.
Accepting that I failed. I close my eyes.
…
…
The pool angrily sloshes behind me. The weight and stink of the pygmies suffocates me, but they no longer shriek or tear at me. I feel something being pushed against my left hand, the cylindrical shape all too familiar.
I open my eyes to a face-full of pygmy ass.
“Ugh! Fuck! Get off of me!” I yell and twist my arms and legs in a way that shakes the pygmies loose. I get up to one knee, slipping a few inches on the blood pooled from my fresh wounds. While numerous, they weren't deep. Superficial, even. I look to my my left and see one of the little bastards had indeed tried pushing the speaker into my reach.
From one knee, I grab the speaker and the all the pygmies seem to take a step back. I glare up at the smoldering points of light.
They had not moved from their spot. I stand up holding the speaker to my chest.
“Ooooh, you want me to play this?! The last cassette??” I lift the speaker up at It and the pygmies seem to bristle with anticipation. The points of light stare back at me, unmoving.
“Go back to hell!!” I shout at the non-response, and eject the cassette marked N-61 into my hand before dropping it to the ground and bringing the heel of my boot crashing down on it's face.
The pool of silver behind me angrily hisses. “Shut up!” I shout back over my shoulder at it.
I turn my head up to the stationary point of lights as the pygmies begin moving en masse back up and over the balcony disappearing beyond.
I tear myself away from It's gaze and make my way to the console before the pool of silver. It seems to have calmed down, only rippling against the edges containing it. I fish O-02 out of my hip bag and place it into it's cavity within the console.
Click
The Crimson lights disappear and clear white light floods the room.
“Lada.”
My finger pauses over the button to play the cassette.
“No. Push play. Don't look. It's a trick.” I tell myself. I feel rocks in my stomach, my finger still hovering over the button. I look forward at the pool of silver, small spikes now slowly flow across its surface.
I pull my finger back and turn to face the voice I had not heard for many years.
Margo Reykov stood at the base of the stairs 20 feet away.
...parts of her did, anyway.
The infection that emanated from left arm after being injected back in the classroom covered her whole body. Black lines seemed to writhe just beneath her skin. Where there wasn't black, there was diseased yellow. But her smile was a triumphant one, just like in the polaroid, and it was for me.
“Mama.” I choke out, wiping my eyes with my sleeve. The smell of grass, or the memory of, filled my nose.
Her smile widened ...a little too much. She took a step forward, jittering oddly as if the motion were unnatural to her. The pool lapped angrily behind me.
“You've dONe so MucH, Lada. I'm SO pROud.” She continued on, stepping over Boris's pistol with her jerking gait. Her smile widened further.
“...Mama, what'd they do to you?” I whisper towards her around a lump that had formed in my throat.
“THEY!” She shouts out of nowhere, standing stiff and seeming to scream at the ceiling. She looks back at me. “ThEY dIdn't do ANYthing. NoT foR me and NOT for ANYONE!”
Black tears begin to roll down from her eyes, leaving a stained trail as she smiles widely. My back presses against the console and and the pools seems to start emitting a low, angry buzz.
“ThIS is hOW it HAS to be.” My mother continues. “LIFe is noT a fAIRy taLE, Lada.” Her whole body jerks as if a jolt of electricity coursed through her, the black lines begin to bulge against her skin. She widens her smile further, causing her lips to crack.
She is mere feet from me and I begin to shake loose of the paralysis the sight of her brought on. I shift my thoughts back to the console behind me, when, in that moment, she crosses the space between us in one, inhumanly quick movement.
“This is how it has to be.” She lucidly whispers into my ear, with one arm around my shoulder. I feel a quick tug at my hip and then a stinging sensation in my abdomen a moment later. My eyes bulge. I take a sharp inhale as delayed pain begins to spread from my lower body, causing my breathing to become automatic and shallow.
I stare into her dark eyes, her face inches from mine. My left hand pressed against her shoulder and my right wrapped around hers holding my combat knife, it's blade disappearing into my body.
“This is hOW IT HAS TO BE!” She screams into my face as she withdraws the blade and plunges it back into me further up my body.
An involuntary croak/gasp escapes my lips as the black lines beneath her skin begin to tear out of her and invade the syringe wound on my left arm. Her smile widens even further.
Summoning my remaining scraps of strength, I slap my right hand to the back of her head and slam it down behind me onto the console's play button, the thud of her head dying against the walls. The giant speakers come to life.
Countless voices recite countless strings of numbers overlaid each other. The undamaged speaker play flawlessly while the corroded one speaks demonically in the cadence my mother just had. The smashed speaker emits harsh static in the cadence of a heartbeat.
The pool of silver buzzes and spikes uncontrollably and pulses to the sound before splitting down the middle with no bottom in sight.
I struggle with my mother around the console to the front of the pool, the black lines all but absent from her body and now running down the length of my left and right arms and god knows where else
Arms locked together and at the edge of the gaping silver pool, the dark lines no longer occupying her face, my mother blinks and looks into my eyes. Clear tears begin to well in her hers. Bewildered, she asks, “...Lada?”
Tears begin to well in my own, but my vision begins to turn dark.
What feels like writhing snakes stretch across the length of my body and beyond it. I can sense the entire facility, I can see past the Broadcasting station and feel the want to get out begin to grow like an itch. I could sense everything around me. Except for the gaping pool of silver at our feet. Nothingness, a void existed there. Oblivion.
With my vision nearly black, only the faintest shapes visible, I push my mother away towards the stairs and fall backwards into the angry silver.
Submitted September 16, 2018 at 02:29AM by ForYouMargo https://ift.tt/2CZVPAW
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