Creepy - 4th Special Forces Group Encountered Something in West Tennessee, It Was Pure Evil.

Episode Date: June 20, 2022

Can you be prepared for everything?***Written by: ForestHasEyes and Narrated by: Rissa Montanez***Bonus Episode: "Today I woke up with a dead woman in my arms. I’ve never seen her before in my life" written by Merit Palmer***Find our reward tiers and how to get your bonus magnet at patreon.com/creepypod***You can also subscribe to us on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/creepypod***Sound Design by Pacific Obadiah***Title music by Alex Aldea Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

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These stories may contain graphic depictions of violence and explicit language. Listener discretion is advised. Creepy presents. Fourth Special Forces Group encountered something in West Tennessee. It was pure evil. Written by Forrestas Eyes. And narrated by Rissa Montanez. I'm part of the United States Army Special Forces.

The Green Berets have been for several years now. In my tenure, I've deployed multiple times to Afghanistan, Iraq, a few months in Syria, several African countries. I've been to all four corners of the globe, and I've seen my fair share of the good, the bad, and the ugly that comes with being part of Socom. I've got plenty of stories, some more interesting than others, but almost all of them are heavily classified behind red tape that will never be declassified until I'm dead and gone. However, there was an incident a few nights ago that stuck out from all the others, mostly because one, unlike all of our other operations that took us to a combat zone across

the distant hemisphere, this one happened right at home in our own backyard. The enemies weren't a foreign proxy or a group of insurgents. It wasn't even human. Stuff from that night is still weird. And it's not like command is going to give us any answers. It's the reason I'm bypassing everything I've been told, disregarding and putting my ass on the line, even if I use false information and withhold names.

Plenty of innocent people have died, as you'll find out. and Upper Command would sooner bury it than acknowledge their deaths and give their families closure. I don't have all the answers about what happened in that Western Tennessee National Park, but I do have enough to let people know the truth. Semi-truth. Anyway, for safety and privacy purposes, like I stated previously, I'm withholding a lot of personal information such as names, exact locations, and unit information. Referring to smaller shit that I don't think even the scary three-letter

groups could really trace. Even if they cared, I hope they don't. Like I said, I'm part of a Socom Green Beret A team. You all know who the Green Berets are. You should. My team is nicknamed Raider, a general theme in our company naming things after warrior-culturesque terms. Raider, Artemis, Barbarian, Ceterion, etc. It's a ten-man element. The team lead? A way too salty Georgian captain. With a warrant officer, a medic, a comm sergeant, and six weapon sergeants.

Our captain decided this way was best. Considering we're all in one piece after our last mission, he was right. Our weekend was calm and boring as we got rotated on QRF. Quick reaction force. For the month. QRF means that if someone, somewhere, needs the green-eyed boogeyman of the Western world, we were ready to kid up and be there at a moment's notice. It just so happened.

Right when some of us were getting ready to head to the bar and have our two singular fucking authorized beers of QRF month, we were called when we raced back to the COP and got our shit ready the captain came in with some surprising information we'd probably be able to make it back for those beers because we were heading to West Tennessee of all fucking places

we didn't know what the status was yet command didn't give us any information what the opt-for was what weapons they had what the layout of the area was Nothing. But being QRF team, Raiders still kidded up and we were at the HLZ enlist in 20. While we waited for transport,

the captain finally got some information. Apparently, a facility in the middle of an uninhabited, restricted woods of a national park had activated a distress signal. The woods it was situated in was a large national park in, like I said, Western Tennessee, with a long history of disappearances on its now frequently closed and blocked off trails and campsites. This raised a few questions.

What was this facility? Why was it in a fucking national park? What happened to need to roll out the angriest Greenbury team this side of the East Coast to act as its backup? Why were we going there when in an hour? someone in Libya or someone across fucking Eurasia might need us to back them up. The captain acknowledged all of these questions, but assured us that's all he knew. He's been with our team for years now, several deployments to the box and back, and he's always been straight with us.

It's how we knew he was lying. Our transport finally arrived, one 60th, sore nightstalkers, an aviation unit that's been around for nearly 40 years, having dragged every single kind of SOCOM unit to every single part of the world. We expected the Black Hawk they brought, but the armed escort of two birds that came with them was a surprise. We were in domestic America. We were going to Tennessee.

Why were they here? Even with the night stalkers flying at top speeds across several states, it still took us a couple of hours to reach our landing point. The inside of that bird going full throttle was deafening. Even with the electronic headsets we were sporting, it was ear-splitting. And yet, while sitting next to the captain, I could tell he was speaking to someone on a different frequency. This was off, because normally he'd go to the kind of,

some sergeant and had to use the radio. But he had a side channel in his radio, talking to someone, writing down incoming information. I was able to peek over and saw some of the things he was writing. Maskell.

Close quarters out four. No blue four on X. The birds touched down in the middle of an empty parking lot, outside of the local ranger station. We filed out into the open area. The birds took off, and the captain chimed in on our team net. Raider Romero, this is Raider lead. Get on the net and have them hold orbit in case we need close air.

Break. He then broke transmission and talked to us. All Raiders, hold outside and take up security. I'm going to get the fucking Ragnar. Prepare for a hasty-ass rant brief. I just got more information. We all took position. behind some of the parked vehicles the Rangers would use.

Just to clear things up, our team was outfitted with GPNVG, also known as Quadnauds, four-barreled night vision optics that provide an almost daytime-like view of our surroundings. Couple that with our PEQs mounted on our rifles, allowing us to see and shoot anything at night. As the military says, We own the night.

The tree line in front of us was lit up like a goddamn operator rave party as the captain walked back and nodded. And the ranger currently on shift followed. He keyed into our net, and we could hear him through our headsets. All Raiders, this is lead. New information states that the facility has suffered a Mascal situation. Break. Mascal means. Mass casualties.

Enemy OP4 unidentified. However, outgoing net during distress call indicates that OP4 is extremely dangerous and engages at close range. Break. There is no blue 4 on site. I repeat. Maine has stated there is no blue 4 on site. And we are to drop any and all packs we see.

A few seconds passed as the captain look back to the park ranger. Any additional comments, Ranger Clements? The man was maybe in his mid-forties. Balding. He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat before speaking. I heard a lot of gunfire coming from down there.

And don't split up. Whatever you do. In these woods, don't. Split up. Our medic laughed. Well, that's just fucking comforting. The captain nodded to the man as he headed back in. Everyone watch your sixes, twelve's and fucking fives.

Let's go. We picked up and moved out. Everyone had their kind of final moments type of readiness drill they did before they stepped out onto the path into the woods. Same shit we did before stepping off out of the FOBs and compounds back east. I let out one final breath of hot air in the cold. Our medic slapped the side of his helmet, hyping himself up. The captain pulled out and kissed a small crucifix necklace from underneath his combat shirt. We headed down the pathway following the captain in a staggered column.

We had IR lasers, and they scanned the trees, rocks, and foliage around us, looking desperately for any hostels that lurked in the darkness. Though to our paranoid rancers, readiness, nothing appeared. But something was definitely following us. When we moved through forest environments, you listen to the animals around you. The crickets, the birds, the movement of animals in what direction they're heading and how fast. Moving down that path, we couldn't hear a goddamn thing.

It's common when you're a group of heavily armed, men moving through a forest at night, that some of the squirrels and birds will run the hell away. But not the crickets, or the bird songs, in the distance. There's a certain level of ambiance that animals will maintain even if they detect humans around. But here, there was none of that. Nothing. Not a cricket, a bird, a cicada, a cicada. Nothing.

Silent professionals. It's in our name. So when I could hear the motherfucker ten meters ahead of me breathing as we move through that dead forest, it told me that something else was here in these woods, with us. A predator. And that the forest was more afraid of it than us. After a long stretch of marching down the trail, The captain held a hand up, signaling a halt.

As it got down to my part of the column, the middle section, he called over the radio. This is lead on me. Time now. We quickly rushed up to what we saw was a metal chain-link fence. Four of our weapon sergeants and the medic took up security covering the woodline behind us, as I and the other remaining one went up to the gate. with the captain. The park's trail carried on for a few more meters before stopping dead into some trees. The dirt path broke off and formed a gravel one that led into a sectioned off area behind,

a chain link fence and a gate. A no trespasser sign hung high. And just beyond the gate, we could see a small guards shack. The captain tried to signal whoever might be in there by switching on the street. surefire tack light on his rifle, shining it in a lasso formation, waving it over at the booth. However, upon stopping and centering on a doorway, we saw a large amount of blood splashed on the back wall and pooled all over the floor, and an arm laying halfway out of the doorframe. The captain looked to the other weapon sergeant with us.

Get your kit. He nodded, slinging his rifle as he dropped his assault pack, digging out a small pair of bolt cutters. Each of our weapon sergeant carried a different loadout depending on what we needed. One could be a gunner, another's a grenadier. Can't name him, but Breachman, as I guess I'll call him, always carried a breach kit, just in case. He walked over to the lock. But just as he got the blades off the cutter around the lock, we heard it. It sounded like it came from everywhere, and yet, far away at the same time.

Maybe it was the echo of the forest, or maybe something attributed to its abilities. It sounded like a woman, yelling in pain, in agony, and yet the voice. was half gargled, like it was morphed with a dying animal, as it had an underlying, low-tone pitch beneath it. It got under everyone's skin, and those pulling security immediately jumped their ship, scanning left, right, up, down. Hell, even the medic. Big stocky dude. Grew up in Brooklyn, played football before he joined. meaning he was as yoked as all hell when he got to our unit. The same guy who once stuck his fucking fingers into a man's neck to plug his aorta.

Looked around, nervously. The hell was that! Our weapon sergeant with the M4-6 shook his head as he scanned the far-off terrain muttering in a low voice. Some horror movie bullshit right now. I remember holding my rifles grip tight. Everyone was equally unnerved. Everyone except the captain. He just told us to press on.

Fuck sakes. Tighten your jockstrap. Let's go. He snapped the lock off. Immediately the captain and I moved in and cleared the small booth. As two more weapon sergeants and our medic took up covering down the gravel road. It was a guard. No name-tank.

or company logo, decked out in a black plate carrier. The plate carrier, which had been torn into, a large hole covered the entire area of a solar plexus, which was now fragmented and broken inside of his mulched upper body. No bullet entry or exit wounds. Just a large fucking stab wound that looks like he got ran through by a fucking lamp post. My breath still got caught in my throat as I grunted to clear it. The captain stepped out of the small booth, spitting hard into the grass, shaking his head.

The medic prodded him. What was it like? He grunted, walking to the front of our formation. Doesn't matter, Doc. We formed up and moved down the gravel road in a wedge column. The captain and three weapon sergeants in the front wedge, with the medic, me, and the other two weapon sergeants in the back. The comm sergeant in the middle.

We entered the facility lot. Immediately, the comm sergeant linked up with the captain, and I could hear him alerting Maine. This is Raider. Lead, we've reached the building. Though it makes me wonder, if he used the comm sergeant's radio to reach our HQ, who was he talking?

to on that other channel. The lot was clear, and we got a good look at the facility. It was a gray concrete rectangle, maybe the size of a small gas station. Flood lights mounted on the bottom, illuminated the gravel lot up to the dense, shadowy woodline that lay just beyond the chain link fence. The woodline that was still quiet. The mask al-carnage we were told about was present outside of the building. Several guards, all in various states of mutilation, similar to the gate guard, were strewn all over the gravel lot. However, unlike the gate guard, strangely, they were in heavier body armor, with rifles capable of going automatic, and spent brass everywhere. Me and some of the other guys got online and cleared out the back.

Exasperated breaths and muttering came from all of us. The captain chimed in. Raiders on me. Time now. We hauled ass back to him as we stacked up at the door. Flowing in, we were greeted to a lobby. Torn up. Furniture thrown everywhere. Impact marks from rounds hitting the concrete line the walls and ceiling.

One dead guard slumped against a red stain part of the wall. the other in a crumpled heap a woman at the desk not a guard just a fucking staff member sat back in her chair her entire torso area torn apart as we passed by her and headed through the double doors behind her her empty dead eyes met mine the com sergeant eyed her as we all moved for the door sir She was unarmed. I can see that. Keep chatter to a minimum. We clear through the double doors to be greeted by a porcelain hallway leading into a set of stairs heading to a sub-level. The entire surface, ceiling, walls, floor, was lined with ceramic white tiles.

Ceramic white tiles that were like the rest of the scene so far. stained with the blood, guts, and even brain matter of the unlucky guards laid out all the way down the stairs. I counted eight. Seventeen so far. A flickering light could be seen through the wireglass windows of the double doors at the bottom. The captain ordered us to flow in through both sides, and we did. pushing in, we could see we entered into a tea-style hallway. It gets a bit complicated here.

Either end of the tea ended while the middle one shot forward far down into a hall, leading to two reinforced blast doors at the very end. Two immediate labs on either side were reinforced with more wire glass, and despite several cracks, impact marks, bullet holes, and even holes made in the glass. They held. This shit can't be ballistic glass. Our calm sergeant muttered.

Hey, why didn't they just take cover in here? The medic said. The captain sighed. Seems to be pointed to a surprise attack from the inside. Emphasis on surprise, jackass. The medic fired back. Well, sure, but it's just a door. While the hallways outside were a mess of blood, gore, guards thrown around as they were ripped apart, creating a mess of bodies, weapons, and more spent brass.

The lab techs had their white coats, stained with their own blood. My blood, and I think everyone else's, started to run cold as the pieces came together. Whatever killed them did so indiscriminately. We formed a rolling tea down the hall. I was on the right with the gunner taking center and another guy on the left. The captain pushed forward leading us from behind. The windowed labs ended halfway, with two solid white doors near the double doors at the end on either side leading to closed-off labs. The captain had us pull guard on both of the side doors as the gunner aimed back down the hallway,

and everyone else took up security wherever it was needed. The cap denied the door, feeling the cracks and lines of the blast doors, looking for gaps that didn't exist. Blood slowly leaked out of the bottom, causing him to pick up his boot and eye it. And yet, no openings existed. An electronic pad was positioned on the right side of the doors, and the captain eyed it. It was a hand scanner. I didn't even think those actually existed. He jumped on that private frequency I keep mentioning.

I'm at the doors. Yeah, at the far end. There's a hand scanner. He waited a few seconds of deafening silence. And he made an internal chuckle as he walked over to the dead body of a guard, kicking its arm. Got one right here. I'm sorry.

Repeat last. alive. He rubbed his face, cursing under his breath. He shook his head, turning on the white light on his rifle and scanning the corpses. This place is a goddamn slaughterhouse. How am I gonna? A crash emanated from the white lab door to the right of the blast doors, the one I was covering. Everyone paused for a second as a second weapon sergeant aimed his laser at it. The captain turned, aiming his laser at the door as he approached. Might have one or might have opt for actual. Wait one. Over. The captain formed up as the first man in the stack. An unusual practice, but everyone else fell behind. I was the second man. Two more made third and fourth. A weapon sergeant felt the edge of

of the door, then tried the handle. It was locked. Him trying the handle must have alerted whatever was inside, because a voice bellowed out. I'm in here. Please. I'll let you in. Just don't shoot. The doorman looked to the captain, who nodded. Might have blue four inside. Stay sharp. Wait on me to fire. There wasn't supposed to be any blue four. four on site. The doors electronic lock opened. The doorman grabbed the handle and pulled it open as the four of us entered the room. We pushed through. The captain went left. I pushed forward. The other two followed one of us respectively. Our lasers centered on the room. And a pair of hands emerging from behind a lap table.

Please! The voice weakly shouted. The captain stormed over. Hands! Now! I'll shoot you, I swear to God if you don't put your goddamn hands up! As the person stood up, we saw the hands were connected to a scientist, possibly late 30s, stringy hair, with circular glasses. Glasses that flew off.

off when the captain closed the distance, shoving him against a metal cabinet, spittle flying from his bearded mouth beneath the NVGs as he barked at him. ID, where is it? Show it! The captain began roughly searching the lab tech as he pulled out his ID. He grabbed it, shoving him to the weapon sergeant on his side of the room. The lab tech was kicked down to his knee. The captain jumped back on that frequency. I'm back.

Possible Blue 4. Prepare for ID code. He read it off in phonetics before he got the response. He looked to the weapon sergeant, guarding the lab tech. Get his ass up. Please. I don't know what's going on. I was just running some chemical tests. We've got to get out of here before.

The captain got in the man's face. Shut up. He did. You know what you've been fucking doing. I know what you sons of bitch has been doing out here. Open them doors. Right now. The man was shocked as the captain continued.

Open the goddamn doors! With a point from the captain, the weapon sergeant shoved the man forward, into the doorframe. The man crumbled a little bit as the captain laughed. Take your sweet time, doctor. Let's go. I picked him up by his shirt collar and dragged him over to the blast doors.

The captain pushed him out of my grip, shoving him face first into the doors. Hand on the scanner. Now! As the captain grabbed the man by his wrist, the lab tech struggled to get free. Please, I don't have the access. I hurt my hand trying to hide. Let me go. The medic winced at the side a bit, uncharacteristic of a green bird. array, especially for a jaded as hell medic. He spoke up. Cap. Come on. The captain just turned, staring daggers into the man as he wrestled for the man's wrist. Just wait till y'all see. I'm telling you. As the man struggled against the captain,

the weapon sergeant came up from behind, shoving the man into the blast door, allowing the captain to easily place it on the scanner. The scanner lit up in a bright blue, as several lines traced and looked over his handprint. It then flashes green as the electronic locks of the blast doors begin to open up. The captain dropped the man. Well, goodness gracious, what do you know? The door slowly pulled open.

The room was dark. red flashing emergency lights flashed all around as the sound of broken glass scraped against the door. A stream of murky blue liquid, mixed in with the blood of several guards' bodies that were revealed at the doorway, leaked out into the hall. The captain grabbed the lab tech by the collar,

dragging him to his feet. You know these men, Doctor? Franz? The captain shoved him through the doorway. The lab tech slipping on the fluids and glass, cutting his right hand with a wince. We float in. And Jesus. I said this at the start.

I've been all over. I've seen mass graves that terrorist cells have used in far-off countries filled with entire village's worth of people. I've seen killed ends inside tunnel systems. This surpassed all of them. that. Every horror, every war crime, multiple times over. A series of gigantic glass tubes lined the walls, walls made out of monitors, hard drives, and computer systems. The path of carnage led through the pile of guards at the doorway. That makes 24 armed personnel that were taken out By something.

What really bothered me was what was in those murky, green, and blue fucking glass tubes. As big as a refrigerator, connected to a port on the bottom and top. Tubes and wires inside connecting to. The captain shoved the lab tech into a glass tube. The pop of the man's nose echoed off the empty area as he grabbed his nose. Well, Doc, which one was it? Which goddamn tube? Tube.

What was he talking about? How did he know? Who was on the frequency? The lab tech spit out the blood leaking into his mouth as the captain, standing at 6'5, a giant even among his team full of brawny SOF operators, picked him up by the collar of his blue undershirt. I don't! Two weapon sergeants ducked out of the way as the captain

got in his face, shoving him against the left side wall, causing the monitors and computer systems to beep and light up. Oh, you don't know? And yet your little hand opens the room you didn't have access to? He roared, abandoning all silence and discretion now as the man began to sputter and sob. But please, please, I... The captain gritted his teeth. He quickly flipped up his nods. and stared daggers right into the man's soul. How many people you snatched off that trail? How many? What kinds of butchering you do to those kids before you stuck them in there?

Which one escaped? Kids, butchering. Something in my mind stopped, and I switched on my rifle's tack light. A heavy pit in my stomach formed as I flashed it on the tubes. there were people in those tubes. They were people. Wires and tubes now poked into seethru and murky flesh,

as the bodies of the kidnapped floated, mutated, dissected, and changed. One person's skin ran reptilian-like up their left arm, before merging with a strange gaping hole in their chest. their skull protruding out of their skin in their head. My breathing stuttered a bit as I backed up a few steps, glass crunching under my boots. Curses muttered by the others in the room as we all began to look.

Another one's mouth was sealed at the front. Two more jagged, messed up sets of teeth poked out either side. Their eyes were sealed. Skin covering defined eye sockets on their head. The medic flashed his on one where their spine stuck out through their back. The vertebrae was larger than a normal person's. The bone sticking out inches longer in some areas. Jesus, man, this sheds.

He gagged a bit, coughing as he looked away. I had to pry my eyes away. My mind was frying just looking at. They better be dead. Oh, I swear to the Lord himself if they ain't. The captain said sternly, as the man sobbed and nodded. Yes, yes. The captain raised an eyebrow.

You sure? Yes. They died during surgery. If you're lying to me, I swear to Christ, I will make you euthanize every single fucking one. The captain shoved the lab tech forward into the center of the aisle. I looked down. shaking my head as the images of those things burned into the film of my brain where's she gone doctor the captain said sternly squaring up to the man who sobbed as he shrugged i i where is it the man continued to cry it escaped It killed everyone. It cut through the guards.

It cut through everyone. All of my friends. This caused the captain to nearly bust a fucking blood vessel from the look he gave him, bawling up his fist and drawing the armored knuckle of his Oakley glove into the gut of the lab tech. This caused the smaller, weaker lab tech to buckle over, dropping to his hand. dropping to his hands and knees, now favoring an injured hand and a probably burst spleen. Your friends? Your friends?

You mean the friends that kidnapped a 22-year-old girl and a 14-year-old son? And turn them into fucking monsters! What about them? This earned only more sobs from the lab tech, as the captain turned, hands on his hips as he scoffed. He looked at the medic, who only stared back through his nods. The captain turned to look at him.

You got to the count of ten, and if you don't give me a single whereabouts of this thing, I will start grabbing tools and cutting your little weasel ass up like y'all did to these kids. The captain loomed over the man, grabbing him by his hair. Sir, sir, please. The lab tech pleaded.

One. Two. Three. The captain counted. Some looked away. Others shook their heads. Not out of shame for our leader. There wasn't a man in the room who wouldn't do what he did right now after seeing them. It's in the woods. You heard it. It did. It's freaky fucking yelled just like ten minutes ago. The captain laughed, letting go of the man's hair as he whipped his head forward. Y'all hear that? It's in the fucking woods. He pulled out his M-17, his 9mm sidearm,

pulling the slide back a bit to make sure it was chambered. Four, five, six, the man stood up, and at this point, I kicked out his extended leg. dropping him back to his knees. The man looked at me, then at the captain. You can't do this! This is illegal! Before the captain could finish his count, we heard it. It echoed all the way down the facility halls, reverberating off the glass tubes in the room.

That half-feminine, half-monious cry. except this time it didn't come from the far off mountains or trees it came from up the fucking stairs then the lights went out i don't know if it was prior damage to the facility the electric works or something else but they just zapped out the lights in the halls the lights on the stairs the lights in the room the electronics the lights in the tanks, all of it. It cried out again, and this time, I think I heard it say. Help me. Anyone who had their nods up, flick them down,

as all of us trained our lasers down the dark hall beyond the doors. The slight shakiness of all the green lasers told the same stories. All of the death. All of the shit in the tanks. It had everyone spooked. The captain came up alongside me and the medic. He looked back to the lab tech. You run, you die.

The man swallowed and smothered his misery. I, I know, I know. The captain corrected him in a low tone. No, you really don't. The creature cried out again. The sounds of something. hard impacting the tile floor sounded out as it approached us through the dark abyss. More footsteps.

Then another cry. The gunner lets out a shaky breath as he cracks his neck. More footsteps. Then another cry. It's maybe five meters from the door now. Lord Almighty, the captain muttered. I couldn't see much in that darkness then. But I saw it.

what everyone else saw. I saw enough. Its body was easily six feet tall. Two gigantic bony mantis-like legs that were dark from blood stepped into the doorway. Its head was smooth, its large teeth shining in the darkness. And its eyes glowed like an animal. Its eyes glowed. It could see us. We all froze. We had rifles trained on it. A fucking machine gun trained on it. A room full of green berets, the best of the best.

And everyone froze. The captain was the first to fire. Squeezing his trigger as he shot 223 caliber death into that crime against existence. The gun are opened up as well. And then the medic. Two more weapon sergeants also shot at it. It yelled at us, cried out, like an agonized woman, pleading.

Then, it lunged. Running and slamming through a test tube, glass flew everywhere, causing several of us to shield our faces. As the water flooded the floor and the deformed body that was inside flopped down near our feet, a horrendous, rotted smell filled the air. Fucking Jesus! The medic sputtered out, gagging a bit as he kicked it away. The creature now screamed. As a rifleman that it jumped near backed up, it left on top of him,

shoving that bony mandible into his left shoulder, pinning him to the ground as he screamed, thrashing his elbow into the thing as he kicked its stomach. But it didn't attack him. It just eyed the scientist. He attempted to run for his life. But the thing jumped on top of him, pinning him face first into the murky wet floor. And that's when I noticed the six smaller human-like arms on its torso.

Its main mandible pinned him to the ground. The arms, some normal, some with bony spikes for fingers, others just lined with fucking sharp teeth, began to rip into the man's back. The lab tech screamed. His lab coat was torn open as he began to dig down into his back. Some still fired shots, but it didn't even react. It didn't even move. It just continued to tear into that vial, but poor, son of a bitch.

The captain's voice lit up the comms, as he and the medic rushed to pick the man up and heave him onto the captain's shoulders. We can't engage him, he. Here, outside, now! He was right. It thrived on close quarters. It ran guys through before they could pick it apart. We all ran.

Nerve shot, weapons hot from firing into a thing that didn't react. The power off so we couldn't close those blast doors. All we could do was run. I nearly slipped on the glass as we booked it out of there. firing some desperate pot shots into the lab with the gunner. The lab tech screams echoed throughout the hallway as we booked it up the stairs. It was going to be done with him soon. The gunner and I covered the captain as we broke out into the open air.

The smell of rot and death was soon replaced by the open piney air of the forest. Several men broke out road flares, tossing them everywhere, giving us much-needed light, in the form of greens, blues, reds, and purples. The captain dropped the man behind a beaten up in wrecked sedan, as the medic began to patch him up. The gunner deployed his bipod and aimed at the doors of the facility from the car's hood. The captain positioned different men to where they all could fire at the door, far enough away from nothing's grasp.

Romero, get on that fucking. in debt and calling that air. The comm sergeant began to go to work behind the sedan. I took aim behind a large SUV with several others, as we all aimed at the door. The screaming had stopped. The silence was broken by its bony mandibles as it rushed out into the open air. And with all the flares and chemlights and even the captain's tack light, we finally got a good look. The silence was broken by its bony mandibles as it rushed out into the open air

and with all the flares and chemlights and even the captain's tack light, we finally got a good look. Its skin was a mix between pink from its exposed muscles to a see-through clear layer covering other parts. Boney calcium-like armor had formed over a lot of its body and its back two legs formed similar mandible-like features at the back. And its head, an exposed skull, with all two human eyes peering out in rage, as its larger unhinged

jaw opened. And then it roared out its deafening cry at us. The gunner was the first to open up. The blast of 556 tore through the armor on its mandible, legs, and torso. The thing recoiled at first, and then hissed. And then it began to charge forward. The captain ran from his place in front of the sedan side, and the thing stuck its two large mandibles into the roof,

badly dunting it. The medic quickly covered the wounded weapon sergeant, shielding him as the thing peered down at the two. The captain quickly got its attention, aiming fire at the back of its head. It roared with a vengeance as it charged at the captain. He fell back to the sedan, running out of our line of fire as the thing barreled towards us. The thing stuck a mandible inside the hood, impaling it, and then another, just to my left.

I circled around and behind it as I fired. It cried out, blood now pouring from its wounds as its calcium plating was cracking and falling off in pieces. The thing turned to face me, and as I flickered. my M4 to Auto and laid into it. It just barreled at me, shoving me to the ground. Its smaller demonic hands reached for me as I kicked them away. Its jaws snapped as I held my rifle in the way, shielding my face as it gnawed on the metal. The gunner then blasted a chunk of its exposed skull away, staggering it as it turned. The captain whipped his stock into the thing's head, then backped

as he fired off another burst of rounds. The thing turned at him, roaring viciously as the captain dropped his empty mag. He slapped in a fresh one as the thing lunged at him, with both mandibles raised. The glass exploded out of the SUV's windows, and the captain dropped levels, firing into its stomach as he circled out back into the open.

The creature roared as it went to move for him. But it couldn't. Its large mandibles were stuck all the way inside of the vehicle. The captain let his rifle hang slung on his front as he reached for something on his kit. An M-67 fragmentation grenade. Get back! Everyone who was in the open ducked for cover. The gunner and several weapon sergeants retreated behind a series of concrete jersey barriers.

I ran and slid behind the sedan, helping the medic to shield our wounded battle buddy. I heard the distinct sound of the spoon flying and the whistling of the grenade. The captain vaulted himself over the car hood with the comm sergeant, covering his radio operator's head as they both went prone. The explosion was thunderous. The shockwave of the grenade shook everyone

and even rattled me a bit from being so close. Trapnel and fragments flew everywhere. impacting the concrete barriers, the building, and any windows on the sedan that already weren't broken, were shattered. A few seconds passed as we all hesitantly started to lift our heads. Then dropped them as the SUV's gas tank seemingly erupted and detonated, engulfing the wreck in a fireball so large, I felt like the flames were touching my fucking face. The captain popped up, aiming on top of the hood of the car. then I and several others joined him,

peeking from behind our points of cover as we look to see if that had done it. The SUV was a burning skeleton, an inferno from all the ignited gasoline covering the frame and the ground around it, and the beast. It defiantly pulled its last remaining mandible, the front left one, the only appendage it had left,

and stumbled out from, the flames. Its skin popped, its muscles boiled, and with all of the seethru skin and bone plating torn and burnt off, it gazed around, its eyes ruptured and melted. The gravel crunched as its charred and still burning body slumped forward. The captain emerged from behind the vehicle, as only a few of us dared to approach the thing. He lifted his nods. This time, pulling his M17 back up and aiming it at the thing's head with three shots into the thing's head the damage and charred skull caved in a circle of light illuminated us as the rotary blades of the Black Hawk sounded out overhead I shielded my face and

lifted my nods to avoid the spotlight blinding me hot four actual down building secure the ensuing hour was one that was just shruged routed in. I don't know. Mystery, I guess. The captain went against prior missions of telling us to go prone and pull security, putting the gunner at the sedan by the gate, and telling the rest of us to watch the woodline. When the vans showed up, that's when he told us, chill out. They weren't really vans. There were more like armored trucks. Now for the sake of being classified and remaining anonymous. I can't divulge

a lot about them. I'm definitely not saying the black shirts were wearing black multi-cam combat uniforms with kits, weapons, and gear available that would definitely make them a private sector group. I'm not saying their uniforms were sterilized of all patches, logos, and markers.

Completely stripped. I'm also not saying that the hazmat suits looked way beyond anything our mop system has. I'm not saying they brought several metal cases in from their armored vehicles, and I'm not saying they brought an advanced surveillance drone with them. I will say they weren't really hostile. Fuck. One even offered us a cigarette. The bird landed at the opposite side of the building.

The open lot where they eventually told us to head. We prepared our guy with the KC vac on a litter with a black hawk and loaded up as the captain finished talking to some guy in a suit. He was much shorter, maybe five-eight. He bore the look of a younger, but weathered man. His hair was slicked back and he had a hard part. A slight bump underneath his sports coat told me he was armed. The captain eventually joined us. As soon as the aviation crew shut the door, he took his helmet off, much to their anger, and slumped back in his seat. When we touched base and got back to the COP, our sister team, Artemis, replaced us on QRF. I've been thinking about that shit for days now, about what those people did to them in that lab.

What the captain said. They kidnapped them, cut them up, changed them, all for what? Some sick fantasy? Who the fuck even owned that lab? There were no U.S. markings, no logos, zip. Like I said before, there's still a lot I don't know. But what I do know is that those fuckers got exactly what they deserved. That thing.

Crying out for help. Pleading for us to make its suffering end, the more I think about it, the more it makes me sick. I don't know who the fuck those guys were that relieved us. They didn't have any markings. Some of them were speaking fucking German if my memory serves correctly. But whoever they are, I hope they learned from their mistakes.

And never tamper with that evil shit ever again. For your bonus episode, creepy presents. Today I woke up with a dead woman in my arms. I've never seen her before in my life Written by Merritt Palmer Before the pandemic it wasn't unusual for me to wake up next to a stranger I'm not bad looking I used to bring women home every once in a while

But I live in a part of the States and never really did much improving So I haven't made any new friends in a long time The feeling of someone else in my bed was so strange that it took me a minute to realize she was going cold. My throat was bone dry as I checked her pulse. Nothing. I shrieked my way out of bed. I didn't hesitate to call the police because, what the fuck?

What the actual fuck? I had no idea how this was even possible. Elaborate suggestions filled my head, and I didn't like a single one of them. Getting arrested because it turned out eyed killer was somehow one of the least unsettling options. Once I'd finished my frantic phone call, I took a real look at the woman lying in my bed. Woman? Corpse?

Both at this point? If she was alive, she might have been beautiful. A pale, busty brunette with brilliant green eyes? Just my type. I grimaced and looked away from her baking gaze. Serial killers have a type too, don't they? I didn't want to touch her more than I already had, but I carefully pulled the blanket off her body.

Not to be a creep, but to look for... I don't know. Stab wounds, strangulation marks, slit wrists, something. There was nothing. No blood, no vomit, no sign that anything had happened to her. If I hadn't felt the chill creeping into her skin, I could almost believe she was alive.

Almost. Her stillness was absolute. There was no mistaking that, not even from across the room. It didn't feel right to leave her alone in there, but I wanted to stay as far away as I could. So I was huddled against a desk in the corner of my bedroom, and that's when I saw the envelope.

It was made a heavy cream-colored paper, elegant cream-clean script addressed, it to my Daniel. I'm guessing I don't have to tell you my name. Evidence or not, I knew I needed to open it. I could feel it sick pull drawing me in. Carefully elicited the envelope and turned it over. Jesus, an actual wax seal,

red as blood and imprinted with a rose. I took a deep breath as I opened the envelope. The smell of roses flooded my nostrils, filled my mouth, numbed my mind. She perfumed the paper inside. The realization was almost enough to make me lose my nerve. All this effort. And for what? What could a dead woman possibly have to say to me?

But I needed to read this before I was taken away as evidence. I had to know. My darling Daniel Forgive me for introducing myself like this If I had more time I could do this the right way The natural way I could live a life with you before dying in your arms But fate is cruel

Just when I had perfected myself When I was preparing for us to meet It tries to tear me away from you I won't let it If I can't have the life I deserve with you I'll at least have the death I dreamed of for two dead I knew it the first time I saw you. You were beautiful sitting there at the mall food court, strong chin, neat brown hair,

the most perfect golden eyes. I thought I felt those eyes on me, and my heart stopped. In that moment, I knew I needed to be by your side forever. Then I saw that you were looking at her. Laura, Lana, it doesn't matter now, it never mattered. but your golden eyes were fixed on her green ones, and I'd never hated anyone more. She was the first of many.

I can't tell you how much it hurt, watching you give yourself to other women like that, but I kept watching through the pain, and that's how I realized what I had to do. The green eyes came first. It was always green. If a girl was anything more than a one-night stand to you, her eyes would be emerald, or sea-glass, or spring buds.

The brown hair developed more slowly. He worked away through blondes and red heads, through raven hair and wild eye jobs, but you always came back to brunettes in the end. The pale skin and full breasts always seemed to come together somehow. Not that you were picky about skin color, or even breast size. It was just something about the combination, I suppose. People have always told me that my blonde hair and blue eyes are perfect.

my breasts were decent, my skin tanned like a dream. I hated looking in the mirror. I hated not being what you wanted. Dying my hair was easy. I've been a proud brunette since we were both in our teens. Sunblock, shade, and the occasional parasol kept me pale. But that was only half the equation. The breast implants took quite a bit of saving up for.

And then there were the eyes. Colored contacts weren't going to cut it. I wanted my deep green eyes to be the first thing you saw every morning. Risky, experimental procedures were too much of a liability. You would never love me if I destroyed my face trying to become beautiful. There weren't a lot of options available when I first met you. The technology was evolving rapidly. We had time, even if it was less time than I thought.

Did you know corneal tattooing has been practiced for at least 2,000 years? It has legitimate medical purposes. but it's not hard to find a doctor willing to do it for cosmetic reasons. They knock you out for the procedure, but recovery is painful. The pain was easy to bear, because nothing hurt worse than the thought of you looking into my sky blue eyes and glancing away in disinterest. After my right eye was a beautiful emerald green. I waited two years to get the left one changed.

I had to be sure there were no complications. Losing my eyesight would mean never looking at you again, and that would be a fate worse than death. On the day that my left eye was fully healed, I knew I was ready. I was emerald and chestnut. I was voluptuous ivory. I was everything you wanted. All that was left to do was arrange our first meeting. Ever since the day we met, I've been with you. I was careful not to let you see me before I was ready, but I was always there. If not in person, then in cameras, in phone taps, in the eyes of homeless folk would watch anyone for a few bucks. And when mobile phones became popular, I was in heaven. You kept me in your pocket. It was like I didn't even have to try.

I watched you thrive, and I watched you suffer. I watched you learn and grow. I marveled at how vibrant you were, how passionate, how beautiful. And every second of every day, I tried to figure out how best to fit into your life. For a long time, I thought it would be rock climbing. I trained for years to impress you. I wouldn't just be some girl you met at a bar. I would be strong, agile, passionate about your favorite activity. You'd know right away that I was special.

Only by the time I was ready, you thought you had already met someone special. Allison. Her name. I'll never forget it. Jade eyes, long caramel hair, a grip on your heart so tight that if she squeezed it, you'd explode. You've never been the cheating type. It's one of the many things I admire about you. So I always knew that when I finally became the perfect woman for you, I might still have to wait my turn.

I figured it would be a handful of months, a year at most. Your relationships never lasted much longer than that. It's like you always knew you hadn't found who you were looking for. Allison lasted three years. You broke your arm defending her in a bar fight. You let her move in with you. You bought her a goddamn ring, and I wanted to choke her with it. But you never had a taste for violent women.

It was torture, watching you love her for so long. Seeing that ring on her finger made me want to vomit. Every day my heart sank lower as the date of your wedding crept closer. There were so many firsts I'd missed out on already. I didn't think I could bear knowing I'd never be your first wife. But if I interfered, that would mean giving up. It would mean losing faith in our destiny together. So I watched and I suffered,

until she finally sat you down and told you that she was sleeping with your brother and that it was over. I was just as shocked as you were. I'd never bothered to watch her while she was away from you. Maybe that was a blessing. If I'd known she was going to hurt you like that, I don't think I could have contained my anger. There was no time for anger when she left.

All I could feel was your pain. I wanted to run to you, to come out from the bushes and console you. You don't need her, I'd say. You never did. Let me hold you. Let me love you like you deserve. But rebounds don't last. No great love story starts the second a heart is broken.

All I could do is watch you cry and give you time. Three months, I figured. three months in your mending heart would be ready for me. And then the pandemic hit. No more rock climbing, no more watching you from the other corner of your favorite bar, no more waiting outside of a restaurant so I could order the same meal as you after you went home. So much of you was lost to me. I even had to stop visiting your apartment to watch you sleep.

Your phone was my only lifeline. But I'd waited before, and I could wait that much long. The vaccine would come, the city would open up again, and we would meet a slowly healing world. I clung to this idea, held it close to my heart to keep it beating. I had no idea that my heart, which has always belonged to you, would betray me in the end. The first time I fainted I thought it was a fluke. I woke up on my living room floor, shrugged, and got on with my day.

Maybe if there had been some sort of lead-up, I would have been more concerned. but my consciousness just flicked on and off like a light switch. It happened again a month later, and that's when I started to get worried. The hospitals were filled by then and teeming with uncertain terror. I couldn't have gotten an appointment if I wanted to. The internet wasn't much help. I was alone with this. I would have given anything to tell you what I was going through.

Eventually, things began to calm down a bit. I'd passed out a handful of times by then, and it just had justed. I started to living with whatever condition I had. I stopped driving. I covered the hard edges of my tables and corners with foam. By the time I finally got to see a doctor, I convinced myself that everything would be all right. Have you ever heard of Vermonto Award syndrome?

It's a genetic heart condition. I was born with an abnormal cardiac rhythm, one that managed to stay hidden until it started acting up. I didn't respond to any beta blockers. The fainting spells didn't stop. They tried implanting a defibrillator in my heart, but I had some kind of reaction. It was a routine procedure, as safe as a surgery can be, but I barely made it out of there alive. The doctor said I had two choices.

Live with my faulty heart or undergo a far more dangerous surgery to fix it. I could take the risk of losing consciousness at any moment, knowing that without medical help, I may not wake up. Or I could take the risk of laying down on a surgery table and never leaving. I choose a third option. I love you, Daniel. I love you with everything I am. I'm sorry we don't have more time together,

but please know that even as the poison shuts down my body, I am finally happy in your arms. Until my last breath, Carissa Inglis. The police are on their way. But what can they do? What can I do? I have to live with this forever. Those glazed green eyes are staring at me from across the room.

I hate myself for thinking that they're beautiful. For more information on this podcast, including how to submit your own story for consideration, please visit creepypod.com. You can also follow us at creepypod on social media and YouTube. All stories told on this podcast are done. done so through Creative Commons Share-A-like licensing, or with written consent from the authors.

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