STORY BY JA
You find the access tunnel, hidden within a cave a mile off the main road.
You don't need the keycard. The door is ajar.
It smells here. It smells like them. Hopefully, they've moved. You've come so far. You can't turn back now.
There is a trail that leads from the cave entrance and into the depths of the bunker.
You're still receiving the distress signal. It only started broadcasting yesterday. Whoever it is––you pray they're still alive.
Your footsteps echo throughout empty corridors. Each footfall sounds like a million, as if you're not running through the dark alone.
The elevator is down so you take the stairs, ending on floor B5. The trail takes you to an office branching off the main hall––the source of the signal. The door is cracked open, but stuck. You plant your feet, push with all your might.
Something skitters out of one of the rooms to your left and around the corner before you can get a good look at it. Your first thought is "dog."
It was on the ceiling, though.
You take refuge in the room, slam the door behind you. It's dark here. You're safe. You take off your jacket and head wrap. It'd be a shame to die from something like hypothermia after all that's happened.
The emergency light rotates and an orange glow sweeps across the room every other second.
As if the room itself has a pulse.
There's a shelving unit placed behind the door to make barricade. You scan the room. Soiled clothes, half-eaten food. A chamber on the northern wall would have been delivering food to the occupants.
In the corner of the room, there’s a sick puddle. You spot three pharmacy bottles––further inspection reveals them to be various opioids. They're all empty.
There's a desk with a computer on top of it. Approaching the computer , you can clearly see the blinking light of the power button.
You take a seat.
Turn it on the computer
You hear footsteps just outside the door. Every first step comes down heavy, the second drags behind it.
You look at the computer screen and it says
Loading...
A dark shape blots out the light streaming through the hole between the floor and the doorway.
You look at the computer screen begging it to load faster
Authorizing...
You tense up, and pray it will pass.
The shadow recedes. You breathe a sigh of relief just as the screen comes to life…
Opening File
Revision 3/12 updated 1312 days ago
REDACTED, minutes after its activation. Photographer unknown.
THREAT LEVEL: 5
DEATH LEVEL: X.K.
Survivors attempting to travel outdoors must fully cover their bodies in clothing; several layers. Travel by foot should be limited as much as possible. Cities––and manmade structures in general––provide the greatest protection. Formerly wooded areas should be avoided. Travel by air is preferable above all other methods.DO NOT TRY TO BRING BACK ANYONE EXPOSED TO THE SUN. Instances of REDACTED that are of sizes that are bigger than five people to be avoided at all costs. electrical weapons have proven effective at immobilizing and may be used for self-defense. Incendiary weapons work as well. Cryogenic weapons are the most effective thus far. Testing has revealed that REDACTED is relatively safe to consume. This is only to be considered as a last resort in the absence of other options. As REDACTED may cause problems within the digestive system, only small portions should be consumed at a time to prevent blockage.Survives stationed at Bunker-19 are to research off-world colonization. Shuttles must be constructed to not allow light to penetrate the inside.
Description: REDACTED is given to the Sun, after an event on [SYSTEM ERROR] Data lost: ec172. Contact SysAdmin. resulting in 6.8 billion casualties within the first twenty-four hours. The REDACTED effects do not seem to be from ultraviolet lights. The effect is similarly present in moonlight.Upon contact with sunlight, living organisms liquefy at the point of contact, with the effect spreading until the entire organism is converted. Visually, this looks like melting wax. The time this takes is largely dependent on the level of exposure and size of the organism. Despite this restructuring, at no point do living organisms die. Upon completion these organisms (REDACTED) take on a broken shapes. Organisms will attempt to change themselves into a fashion strange shapes of their previous form, to varying degrees of success.Flora typically remain not very melted, yet are still capable of photosynthesis, and still produce oxygen. Organisms capable of flight lose the capability to do so. Humans retain a sense of sapience and memory. Due to their melted forms, instances of REDACTED that make contact with one another may combine and blend and become one with another. This does not seem to cause any pain or distress to the instances, though the resulting bulk can inhibit movement. The resulting mass is misshapen and chaotic. The organisms will shift between a full-to-semi-liquid state; limbs and bodies will rise periodically from the mass for a short duration, before breaking down and being pushed away by another life-form. They move around by using their appendages to carry their mass. Larger packs will form temporary feet to drag themselves about in a manner similar to amoeba.
You click on the file named “revision one.”
A harsh static lashes out of the speakers when you open the file. It disturbs the stillness of the room and catches you off guard. There's some noise as the recorder adjusts their microphone.
A brief moment of silence passes and then:
"Ahem. This is Doctor Logan Hopskins,.”
There's a quiver in her voice that betrays her attempts at professional. She pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues.
"Due to bunker-46's possession of several communication info hazards, we have, we have been cut off from the rest of the network u-under Blackout Protocol. As such, I'll be updating this as we come a-across new information.
On the bright side, we are actually still receiving transmissions from a few bunkers. A good number of people have made it, it seems. Some are planning to make a break for 19. As, some, like us, are simply biding their time. Our bunker is sealed for the time being. We're not ready for the journey. At least, not yet.”
She sighs.
"We... experienced a breach a few days ago.
Last week several of the subjects broke out of cells. They grabbed one of the security guards and made a run for it. The security guard melted into soup the second they exited the tunnels . I-I watched it play out on the cams. Poor guy
It didn't take long for him to get back up.”
She stops again, mutters to herself incomprehensibly, before you hear the sound of a match strike.
She exhales.
"Ahh... M-much better. she clears her throat.
Commander Anand suited up and went to town on them the next day, trying to drive them off. It didn't turn out very well, poor guy. But we did learn a thing or two, at least.”
Pause. Exhale.
"There's only a few of us left here. I'm holed up in one of the offices. Jerry and Director Phillips are somewhere in the barracks. Clyde and a few security guards locked themselves in the armory with Ari.
I really should see how she's doing.”
She trails off for a moment before you hear the buzz of radio chatter.
"Hey, hun. How're you holding up down there?”
A voice responds. A man with a mocking tone.
"I'm doing just fine poopsie-kins! I want you to know I wuv you bunches! Heh, heh.”
Logan shoots back.
"Who? Wh- knock it off and put her on. I need to speak with her." There's a noise on the other end while the radio changes hands. A soft voice calls out, concerned.
"What's wrong?”
Logan responds.
"Um - er- nothing, nothing.”
"I just wanted to check in real quick.”
Ari pleads.
"I'm fine. Really. I can take care of myself.”
A creak - Logan shifts in her seat.
"No, no. I know, I know that. I can't help it, though. I know coming here was never easy for you…."
"...and with everything going on I—“
Ari interrupts her.
"Hey! You told me you quit smoking.”
There's a ruckus as I think she is attempting to snuff his cigarette.
"Oh! Uh…No! No, of course not. I mean, I did! I did stop.”
Ari doesn't sound convinced.
"I don't think I'm the one you need to worry about. I'm staying clean. I haven't even thought of touching fafsa in months. Trust me.
Anyways, since you were wondering, I'm fine. The guys are sitting around playing cards, I'm tucked in the corner with my notebook.”
You can practically hear Logan smiling as he jokes.
"I know what you mean, hun. I'll let you get back to it."
A moment of silence. Then, a match strike followed by an audible exhale.
"And that's all of us. Everyone else was either top-side during the event, or they were killed in the second breach. Director's orders are to stay put. Keep an eye on the cams––both in and around the bunker. We've got the REDACTS skips beating at our front door, and god knows what else locked in here with us.
We still have electricity––we should for quite some time––and the place is stocked with enough supplies to last the bunker a couple of years. We're going to be fine for now.”
Pause. Exhale.
"Everything's going to be fine." She waits a beat, before ending the transmission.
You click on the second file named file revision #2.
They've just been sitting out there this entire time, calling out to us, begging for us to come outside. The noise drew in more of them. There's this one mass that I'm sure must have a few hundred people and god-knows how many animals roiling around inside it. Screams and bleats and screeches and howls nonstop. Louder than all hell. The worst ones make this disgusting moaning like they're actually enjoying it.
They're not going to leave so long as they know we're down here.
We managed to talk one of the security guards into going out––see if he couldn't draw them away. He was surprisingly okay with the plan––all he asked for was a gun, and ten rounds. Says that's all it's gonna take. He made it out there and one got a hold of him, tried to get his mask off. He managed to shoot the pistol shot,he shoots again it did nothing they,t-they took his mask and he started screaming
After he fell limp and then after about five minutes he got up and then came to the door and asked us to let him back inside.
The Director has a plan. There's an escape tunnel hidden in his office. Trams under the Bunker will take us to a safe house. We should be able to start towards 19 from there.
You click on file name “They took everyone.”
"I-I-w-we - the t-tunnel.
Flowed in through the, through the ceiling, dragging, dragging them into the, the l-light and ripping off their, their clothes a-a-and..." She leans forward, as if to turn off the camera, when a radio crackles to life.
It broadcasts white noise for a few seconds, and then, a voice that sets you on edge.
"Logan?”
It's Ari, almost. Her voice has taken on the disgusting, gurgling tone. Logan's jaw drops, what little color that was left in her face drains. It speaks out again.
"Where are you? Why can't I get back inside?
Are you there?”
Logan rummages in the desk for a moment, and produces a handheld radio. Her hands are shaking. The thing implores her; its inhuman speech makes your stomach queasy.
"It's alright. I'm alright, really.
It's a bright, sunny day and you're just wasting away down there.”
Logan is in tears, her finger hovering just above the call-button. The Ari-thing draws a deep, wet, breath and speaks. "Such a beautiful, clear blue sky––just like that day. Do you remember?"
The Ari-thing continues: "It is such a beautiful day why don’t you come outside please?" It starts singing. "Good day, sunshine" Logan hurls the radio across the room. It smashes somewhere off-camera. It's still somewhat operational––you can still hear the thing singing. "Good day, sunshine," except it sounds more distorted.
"Good day, sunshine" More voices join in the as the radio slowly loses life. A few, a hundred, then more. They continue singing until the radio mercifully dies. Logan rushes out of her chair, and you can hear her vomiting off-screen. The video films the empty seat for several minutes before he returns. She takes out a pill bottle and takes five pills in his and glops them down. And puts the pill bottle back in the drawer back in the drawer before ending the video.
Dr. Hopkins appears on the monitor. She's lost weight. Her eyes are bloodshot and wide. On the table there is a knife, a bowl, and a stack of manila envelopes filled with yellowing pages.
Atop this stack is a blood-stained parchment.
Bunker-19 stopped broadcasting last month. It's been getting harder and harder to find a reason to keep going––especially without, without.
"I keep going over it again and again in my mind. That day back in the tunnels. Everything that happened. I've gone down there a few times, if only to hear her voice again.
But it's wrong. That thing on the other side of the door––it isn't her. Not anymore.
With this, she slices into the palm of her left hand. You watch her clench her fist, draining her blood into the bowl.
"If this works... If I can bring back something, something the light couldn't reach; I'll post an update here. For now, signing off.”
There's a video file attached. Opening it, you see that it presents the room you're in. The feed seems to be coming from one of the security cameras, up in the corner of the room. It's dark, but you can just make out Dr. Hopkins laying on a pile of laundry along the far wall.
She's talking in her sleep. She seems tormented. Hurt. She's tossing and turning and mumbling nonsense.
The camera shakes. It lifts upwards for a moment, before it focuses on her again.
It starts moving closer. Slowly.
The speakers come to life; picking up an airy, breathy static. As the camera moves closer to the doctor, it becomes clearer, crisper. It's not merely white noise, but dozens, hundreds of voices whispering unintelligibly over each other.
You lean in, press your ear almost against the speaker, trying to discern what it is that's being said. Something strange stands out:
Are you paying attention?
This next bit is just for you.
You're not quite sure what to make of it, though. Looking back at the monitor, the camera has come to a halt inches away from the sleeping doctor.
The voices stop.
There is no sound.
A hand. Black and oily and skeletal, reaches out for her, brushes away a lock of hair.
Her eyes shoot open, she recoils in shock. The feed cuts out.
A sense of paranoia washes over you. You turn around to see hands coming out of the sick puddle, they are black and oily and skeleton like. You draw your flashlight on the corner of the room taking your gun out, you don’t see anything you look at the puddle and look in the puddle and you see a black and oily and skeletal being, you get scared and recoil backwards. It comes out of the puddle, and you start shaking you can’t quite make out its shape.
It looks at you, you can’t move, you think this is it… then it just disappears.
Your still shaking but manage to get your wits together and grab flashlight, you hear a ding on the computer and look at the computer screen it’s a video that is name
“FROM SPACE TO YOU”
THIS FOR DIRECTORS ONLY BY READING THIS FILE YOUR RISKING YOURSELF TO TERMINATION.
Dear all bunker directors
We have successfully fired all 15 rockets into space, we are going to mars and have enough supplies to last about 25 years. We would like to know if we are the only one that has made it.
- Jerry pizza pie Bunker 19
You smile knowing that Bunker 19 is going to start a new world on Mars.
You take out your gun from the drawer, the computer dings again. It's a video and it’s live you look at the computer and realize that it’s you that’s being recorded. You see a figure on the computer screen right behind you, but there is no one there. You turn off the computer and leave. You see them coming down the bunker hall and you open fire. It hits the big blob doing nothing to it. You run, and turn the corner and run into a blob with a melted research wearing a melted white coat with the name tag Logan. You turn around, you're cornered. You drop your gun, several blobs drag you as several others join in and drag you outside. The giant blob follows the skeletal being and smiles at you before you're dragged outside. The last thing you see is a giant blob.
Glossary : info hazard if you hear, smell, see, taste or touch supernatural will happen
fafsa: a made up opioid
ajar: slightly open
inhuman: lacking human qualities or not human in nature or character