Dr. Creepen's Dungeon - S1 Ep18: Episode 18: We Raided the Wrong Tomb

Episode Date: February 25, 2021

This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and Dr. Creepens Dungeon listeners get 10% off their first month at www.betterhelp.com/Creep Want a free case of 8 Craft Beers from Beer52? Go to www.beer52.com/creep and cover just the postage costs of £5.95 Be careful where you go exploring.... some places are better left undiscovered! Today’s fantastic offering is ‘We Raided the Wrong Tomb’, an original work by Joshua Waggoner 90, kindly shared directly with me for the express purpose of having me exclusively narrate it here for you all. https://www.reddit.com/user/joshuawaggoner90

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We raided the wrong tomb by Joshua Wagoner 90. Now, as ever before we begin, a word of caution. Tonight's story may contain strong language, as well as descriptions of violent and horrific images. If that sounds like your kind of thing, then let's begin. My name is Rebecca Thornborough, and ever since I was young, I've been positively obsessed with things like Indiana Jones, Tomb Raider, National Treasure, or anything that has the action hero archaeologist types in them. Even into adulthood, I was well convinced that archaeology had to be the most exciting job possible. It just had to be a life of dodging booby traps and, while fighting off bandits looking to sell rare artifacts to the highest bidder.

It wasn't until I was in university and began the hands-on, in-field portion of my education, and I realised that the field might have been somewhat oversold in the movies. This was further cemented once I graduated and was brought on by a museum in the US, which shall remain nameless. I was disheartened to learn that most archaeological work was little more than cataloguing boxes on top of boxes on top of boxes of other people's discoveries from decades before. What a damn kick to the teeth that was. I was practically a cave troll after a year or two.

You cannot imagine the boredom. My salvation came in the form of a friend and colleague bursting through the door to the archive where I'd been examining fibres of an old shoe. Jesus, Sandy, he almost gave me a heart attack, I exclaimed, slowly sitting on the stool next to the table. "'Sorry, Beck, you're going to shit when you see this.' She yelled excitedly and practically hopped over to where I was recovering from the startle. "'Look, look!' she insisted, shoving several printed photos under my nose.

"'Okay, okay, what am I looking at?' I asked. "'Look!' she yelled again, pointing to sections of the images. So I inspected them more closely. They looked to be mostly of partially burnt forest. I was able to make out what appeared to be a very large rectangular stone tablet under some of the debris. It looked to be quite large, in fact. More than two metres tall and at least one and a half wide. I also looked to be carvings along the length of it.

Looks like an old tablet, I said dismissively, handing the pictures back to her. So what? Terry just took these in Peru. The fires burned away a lot of the foliage that was hiding this thing, she explained. "'Okay, so it's Nortojiko. "'They were all over that place,' I concluded. "'Wait, they didn't do art,' I thought out loud, "'taking back the photos and looking over them again.

"'So, um, Shavin, that's like 900-ish to 200-ish BC, right? "'Oh, fits the time and area.' "'Yeah, I know, but here's the kicker. Terry said the perimeter on the left shows signs of wear that, well, indicates some kind of hinge in activity, because it's not a tablet, it's a door, she told me with a glimmer of excitement in her big brown eyes. That is pretty amazing, but what do you want me to do about it? I asked. We need to go investigate, she screamed.

If we wait, then someone else will get to it. Terry's waiting for us in Christco right now to lead us back to the site. but we have to hurry. Hurry. You don't hurry to something like that, Sandy. We need passports and preparation vaccinations, all kinds of stuff. And we don't even do field work. We're lab rats.

You know that, I scolded. Besides, Terry's a spars anyway. I added, thinking back to incidents like when he wore a thousand-year-old ceremonial fertility mask to a Halloween party to help his chances of getting late. What? Are you serious? Where did your tomb raider, Sparicero? This could be the archaeological find of the decade, if not the century. You don't want to be a part of that? She scolded in return. Besides, Terry knows a guy with a cargo plane who makes trips back and forth to Peru all the time.

He can get us in. All we have to do is pack a bear. I'll think about it, I told her, before resealing the shoe fibers I've been working on and placing them back on the shelves. I'll let you know tomorrow morning. Later that night I found myself in front of the mirror in the expedition clothes I bought some years ago I'd had never even used once. Thought back to the old daydreams of being chased by gigantic boulders and swinging over pits of snakes

while cradling some long-lost ancient idol, all the ones where I was facing down bandits on a rickety bridge over a roaring river. And then I started rummaging through my backpack. I found some things I remembered and others I'd completely forgotten about. Glow sticks, magnesium flares, LED flashlight, spare batteries were now out of date.

MREs, still weigh-in date. Foil space blanket, medical kit, copper water bottle. The butterfly knife I bought after seeing Lara Croft use one in a movie. A regular knife I bought after seeing that I couldn't flip one around like Angelina Jolie did. I looked over each item as I removed them from the back. Then I found the small third third. 38 revolver I tucked away in there.

I thought about getting a pair of automatic pistols, but then I soon realized at a shooting range that it's very hard to hold, aim and fire two at the same time, and even harder to reload. Also, they're really expensive, and buying all this other stuff and made me short on money at the time. Back then I was getting ready for an actual adventure,

one that I was now looking for any excuse to get out of, and that was that. I decided, right then, that I would go. After all, I might never get another opportunity like this again. I cramped everything back into the pack and texted Sandy. The next day we were both standing next to a dilapidated cargo plane, bags slung over our shoulders. So, it's Peru, is it?

A voice called from behind us, causing us both to flinch. We both turned to face the voice. Um, yeah, that's... Yeah, um, yeah, um, yeah, Peru, I said, trying to sound as tough and confident as possible, puffing up my chest to seem bigger. And we've got to get there as soon as we can, I said to the middle-aged man I assumed to be the pilot. Nice rat, I hear the man say as I look down to see his face a few inches away from my chest. What?

I yelled, backing away and almost tripping over the steps leading up to the plane. The pilot laughed as he ascended the steps, motioning for us to follow. His antics lasted the entire flight down the West Coast, which was not a short one. This included him using the intercom to announce things such as, Ladies and Gentlemen, I just hung my pecker out of the plane. If you look to the left, you should be able to see it flopping around just outside your window right now. Please, no flash photography. Yep, it was definitely Terry's friend.

As we need our destination, we heard static over the intercom once again, cringed in anticipation of whatever foul joke he was about to make. But instead, he began to speak in a serious time. All right, we're landing in a few minutes. Once we touch down, you're going to want to lift up that panel towards the back right corner and crawl in. Don't come out until I say so. They're likely going to search the cargo hold,

and you can't exit the plane until night when you won't be seen leaving. Otherwise, it's all our acids. The next time he spoke was to signal us into the hatch. He waited inside the dark, cramped space for several minutes, listening to footsteps thump against the metal floor over us. Then several more passed after the movement stopped. Light broke through as the pilot removed the panel to let us out. Okay, you still have a couple of hours before it's dark enough to leave. Strip poker anyone? he asked, producing a deck of cards.

After the sunset, we made our way out from the plane and were taken by the pilot to a small motel on the outskirts of Crisco, where we were to wait for Terry to arrive the next day to lead us to the site. The pilot had set up the room before he left the country to pick us up. It was paid off for several days and had been fully stocked with food in accordance with Terry's instructions. Say what you will, but that man can plan. What do you think all the aspirants for? I asked Sandy as I sorted through the things left in the room. room for us. But the question answered itself before long. Oh, God, I want to die, I screamed as I rocked back and forth on the bed, one hand clutching my head and the other over my mouth as I tried

to choke down another two aspirin pills. What the hell is wrong with me? A few hours after we'd settled in, my head began to spin, and I started to feel like I could vomit at any second. And then my head just started pounding. I managed to pull my head out of the toilet, and I managed to pull my head out of the toilet for a brief moment when I heard the room door open and Terry enter. Beck's real sick, Sandy exclaimed as she rushed over to Terry, pulling him over to me. She's been like this for hours. Is she going to be okay? Yeah, altitude sickness isn't supposed to be fun, he stated with a chuckle. You're 11,000 feet above sea level. Your body wasn't able to acclimate to the change in

pressure fast enough and now you have acute mountain sickness. should go away before long. He explained over the sounds of me throwing up. We waited another day for the altitude sickness to wear off before starting our trip into the Amazon. That morning we all piled into Terry's Jeep and got underway. We rode all away until we had absolutely no road left to drive over. We then disembarked on foot and began to hike the long trail through the rainforest.

It didn't take long before I regretted wearing short shorts. The thorny brush hacked and soared away mercilessly at my legs, causing hundreds of bloody beads to speckle my pale skin. We walked for hours and hours. And then I started noticing an odor. Oh my God, what does that stink? I asked, trying not to gag. That's you, Terry answered plainly, but with a grin.

That's not me, I shrieked back. Your shirt's cotton. The humidity in the air won't let your sweat evaporate fast enough. And your shirt is starting to putrefying it. Your shirt is rotting in your own body funk. He chuckled. Oh, I groaned. Why didn't nobody tell me that this would happen?

The experience helped you remember not to do it again. He said, We'll camp here. There's a stream you can wash off in and hang your shirt up to dry off a little. How much longer? I asked about an hour after. we'd packed up and left camp the next morning. Ah, another day, more or less, Terry replied.

I almost broke down into tears when he pointed out that this was just one way, we would also have to walk the same distance back. I wanted to flop to the ground and be carried back to the motel. Bucks, thorns, heat, the smell. I was starting to think adventure stories had omitted certain crucial details of the adventure experience. But my spirit was greatly lifted, once we heard the announcement from Terry. I've been chatting with Sandy a few metres behind,

when we heard him shout back to us. Almost there, guys. Just over this hill. We both sprinted ahead of him to get our first glimpse at the structure. As our heads crested over the hill, there it was. We clambered the rest of the way over in excitement, practically crawling over each other. We rushed up to the large stone and began inspecting it, combing over every detail.

We were here. This was it. It was ours. Look at this, Sandy instructed, motioning me in her direction. A lot of the carvings were scratched off. There's only bits and pieces left. This one looks like a group of men with bars of some kind. Metal ingots, maybe, but I wouldn't line up without current records.

Neither did giant hinge doors, I added. "'All right, Mr. Door. "'We can do this the easy way or the hard way,' "'Terry stated, walking up behind us with a crowbar "'and what looked like, well, explosives. "'Are you seriously going to blow it open?' "'Sandy yelled at him. "'Not if Mr. Door cooperates with me or once.'

"'He said with his usual grin, "'I am going to see what's in there this time, right? "'After thirty or so minutes of attempting to jimmy the door open with the bar, "'he righted himself, tossed the bar aside, and walked back our way to where we had both been spectating. Hard way it is, he said, drawing a single stick of dynamite from his vest pocket before lighting it up, tossing it over his shoulder onto the stone door. Short views, he said as he sped past us, diving behind a fallen tree.

Sandy and I exchanged a shot glance before darting for cover after him, moments before the explosion rock the forest. Oh, Terry, my fucking ears! I barely heard Sandio with a persistent and invasive ringing as she yelled beside me. I was the first to peer into the void. In the midst of trying to stand and regain my balance, I caught a glimpse into the inky black of the chasm that the door had been holding at bay. I slowly began to creep towards the opening, inch by inch.

Then Terry bolted past me, sliding to a stop just outside the entrance. Yes, we are in. baby he exclaimed once he'd made sure the passage was actually clear enough to enter sandy and i followed behind crin our next peek inside well let's go to it terry said clapping his hands together and making the first real step inside the open we followed but cautiously switching on our lights as we made our way in the entrance was a small hallway that opened to a much larger room the walls of which which were covered top to bottom in more carvings. But these were untouched and of meticulous detail.

As we all gazed around the stone cavern, our attention was all brought together on a large sphere towards the middle of the room. As we all gathered around, Sandy was the first to notice. Beck, Terry, it's a goddamn globe. Neither of us argued. A few steps closer and a quick swipe to remove some. centuries old dust confirmed it beyond any shadow of a doubt. Not only was it a globe, it was accurate, not even kind of accurate or pretty accurate. No, not even very accurate.

It was perfect. We all shivered as a chill passed down our spines. The globe showed in absolute clarity each and every curve of every last landmass from continents to islands, and it was to tilted on its axis exactly as it should have been, which made me wonder what the small golden pots placed at random locations across it represented. This thing was so right, it just had to be wrong. Nothing like this could be here, and we all knew it. Terry, I said, not knowing why or what I wanted the response to be. I don't know, Becker, he answered quietly. Let's look around some more. Sandy suggested after a minute or two. Maybe someone came later and put that there.

If we look around, we might find some signs of other people before us. I'm pretty sure this whole thing is a sign of people before us. Terry said, looking around at the various carvings on the walls. Well, okay, let's see what we find. He added, giving the globe a soft spin. Wait, I said, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from walking away. "'Where's that supposed to be?' I asked, pointing at an unfamiliar shape some distance off shore to the right of the South American landmass. "'There's an island between South America and Africa.'

"'There isn't anything between there,' Terry said, looking back at me. "'Look,' I said, tapping my finger at the area of the globe. He leaned in, licking his thumb and wiping at the dark spot, checking to see if it will come off. Then, he quietly took a few steps away from the globe and dropped to his knees, bringing his bald fists up over his head before shouting in excitement. Five minutes down here, and we found evidence of Atlantis. His yell echoed off the walls before he jumped back to his feet and grabbed us both by the shoulder. Right, stuck taking as many pictures as you can, guys. We just went down in history.

His grin wider than ever before. The life of a podcaster is not an easy one. So when I reach the end of a busy storytelling day, I like to follow the words of Stephen King. I work until beer o'clock. Now, just bear with me a second. I think quite like the taste of a cold beer. But when it comes to beer, I'm extremely selective in what I drink. Now, would you like the chance for a free case of eight craft beers from Beer 52?

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calling me. So, join me. Go to beer52.com slash creep and pay 595 postage to get all of this now. That name again? Beer52.com slash creep. Come on, folks. Beer times calling. As we studied and photographed the main room, we came across several other openings in the back which led to an expanse of interweaving halls and rooms. We stepped inside each one for a moment to decide which to explore first. Then we agreed to step outside for a minute as the air had begun to feel stuffy, and we were all beginning to breathe a bit heavily. As we approached the entrance, we noticed the light that once bled in from the surface at the end of the hall was no longer there. thinking something night have fallen over the opening we all ran to investigate but the hall that was barely ten metres when we'd entered was now much longer we doubled back being under the impression that there must have been a second passage we'd taken by mistake once we got back to the main room we were able to confirm that there was only one hall on that side which made no sense stone doesn't just suddenly change in an instant life

that. We tried to think of some logical explanation. We couldn't. I think we're going to have to try one of the back pathways, Terry suggested. I know it doesn't sound great, but we're definitely not leaving that way. Maybe there's another exit on the end of one. After a bit of pointless arguing, we decided on the middle of five separate hallways and set out into the tunnel. We checked the rooms we passed as we made our way through the winding corridors. Many of them showed snapshots of daily life, abandoned in an instant and left a time. Cups sitting on tables, unmade beds remarkably similar to what we use today. Some plates were even found with the scant remains of ancient food still on them. The entire place started to look like a functioning

underground city, deliberately hidden away from the outside world. Where other cultures of the same time an area were known for pyramids and other proud displays of architecture, these people chose for some reason to hide underground. After a long period of walking through the tunnels, we happened across a staircase that led into a lower level. Having to choose between retracing our steps all the way to the entryway, while continuing along the only path ahead of us, we descended the steps. We opened into a large round chamber full of stone tables in the middle and shelves along the walls. Objects covered in dust adorned many of them as we should. We shone our lights around the new room.

What do you think this place is? Sandy asked. Storage room, maybe. Maybe, I replied, walking over to the nearest wall to inspect the pictographs. On closer inspection, we determined that they were newer carvings

on top of where old ones had once been. The wall had been smoothed over and recarved. In the main room, they seemed more artistic and meticulous, but in here they devolved into something crude and hurried. More so, it seemed the purpose of which was to convey information rather than abstract beauty. They depicted people crafting the tunnels and made deliberate effort to communicate the importance of the tools they used. Tools which almost look mechanical in nature. Not simple hand tools of metal, which still shouldn't be possible for the time.

The people in this area didn't even know how to make ceramic around this period. But these were looking like they were actual power tools. Furthermore, the carving is demonstrated that the source of these tools seem to be the mysterious ingots from the entrance. They go on to appear to tell that this metal was very finite or perhaps expensive, and they began attempting to recreate it for themselves. To a great failure, it would seem. One man could be seen showing another a picture with the unknown island we'd seen before on the globe,

then another with the island no longer there. The final pictograph shows what we interpreted as, the metal in some kind of laboratory, liquefying and seeping through the floor onto the occupants on the levels below, who in turn were now being shown to be either deformed in the face and attacking and biting each other

or lying in pieces on the floor as the liquid flowed over them. Then we saw the final image of the series. In stark contrast and impeccable detail, a face, human but also not. It showed undeniable similarity to the deformities from the previous page, but with infinitely greater detail. The face looked old and decrepit.

The mouth hung wide with large, sharp piranha-like teeth in place of incisors. The tongue flopped far out of the mouth and was covered in thin spines that seemed to be open like a blooming flower. What the hell? Terry said as he inspected the almost portrait-like stone image. We need to go, Sandy said, pushing her way past him. Terry ran back to the beginning of the series to take pictures before joining us. As we waited, we suddenly heard his camera clattered to the ground, shortly followed by him screaming in agony. Sandy was right behind me, and we ran to his aid as fast as we could.

Terry, I yelled as we got close enough to see him kneeling, holding a bleeding hand. Are you okay? "'What? Oh, yeah, I dropped my camera. "'When I reach down to get it, I scratched my hand on a rock or something. "'I'm fine,' he explained. "'Then why the hell did you scream? "'God, you scared the shit out of us?' "'Sandy and I scolded.

"'Oh, yeah. I broke my fucking camera lens,' he said, "'holding up his camera to show us the broken lens. "'We could kill him and say it was an accident. "'He'd be our secret,' Sandy joked. breathing heavily as I searched through my backpack for the medical hit. This actually looks kind of bad, Terry. I told him as I applied some antibacterial ointment and perhaps a large bandage around his hand.

It's pretty deep and really long. You're going to need stitches when we get out. We'll worry about that later, he dismissed, getting to his feet. I wiped a patch of dust off of a random object sitting on one of the shelves next to us. I could now tell it was metallic. underneath. I began to clean more and more of the thing's surface until the entire structure could be clearly seen. Terry, what does this look like to you? I asked, motioning him to come over. Well, a circular saw, he said plainly, taking one look at it. If I didn't know better,

I'd say that's a circular saw. He reached up with his non-bandaged hand and picked it up from its resting place. I mean, it has two handles. a disc with teeth, even, he said, touching a place on one of the handles, causing the disc to come to life. The blade made almost no sound itself, not until the alarm caused Terry to drop it, at which point the spinning teeth struck the floor and made an awful racket. That scared me, Terry yelled, holding his hands up over his head. Everyone okay? Yeah, we're fine, but what was that?

Sandy asked him. It's definitely a sore, but how the hell does it still work? Terry said, all to himself than us, as he reached down to pick it back up. But, look, this doesn't make sense, or I mean it makes even less sense than it should. The T-Farne even dinged, and I can't make out any parts or means of attachment. It's like it was made to last forever, he said. then activating the spinning blade again he held it against the stone shelf it sat up the whirring teeth tore a large gash deep into the rock as the machine chewed deeper and deeper until he stopped and looked at the thing again and then back up to us then we all began to dust off and photograph as many of the various objects as possible some looked like familiar drills and grinders and jackhammots others looked almost alien in their possible utility Try to find something small to stuff in your bag, so we have something when we come out, Terry instructed us.

I found a finely pointed tool that I assumed was once used to carve the images into the walls and slid it inside my back pocket. After that we all converged at the opposite end of the room, where another opening led into another hallway. But after a moment, we realized that the passage was blocked by another large stone slab, though this one was different than the previous one which blocked the opening to the city the new slab before us was completely plain and looked to have been hastily made

by the looks of it was not an original part of the architecture the carvings running down the hall all stopped abruptly at the slab pictures of people objects and animals would either end at the stone obstruction or emerge from behind it but at the same time there were absolutely no gaps between the slab and the wall

It hugged the contours of the deeply carved pictograph so perfectly it almost had to be airtight. By this point we were already short of breath and this did nothing to improve our breathing. What do we do now? Turn around, Sandy asked, inspecting the wall for a way through. Maybe not, Terry said, walking up next to us, holding his hinged hand.

The bandaging, now saturated, had begun to drip blood onto the dusty stone floor. Jeez, Terry, you okay? Sandy and I asked. Yeah, yeah. It was throbbing for a bit, but it's starting to go numb now. Anyway, I still got some explosive in my back, he said, shrugging off his backpack onto the ground. Here, reach in there and get one of the sticks, one with a longer use, he instructed, as he used his good hand to unzip it.

Okay. Now what? I asked. Just set it down in front of a thing and get back around the corner in the room, he said. So I did as told and retreated back into the tool room, watching him light the dynamite from around the corner. As he joined us in the room, I heard him counting under his breath. Five Mississippi, four Mississippi, three Mississippi, before he took shelter around the corner covering his ears. Sandy and I barely got our own, he was covered before the explosion. The explosion shook the floor.

Once the dust settled, we were able to see that the dynamite didn't do any noticeable damage to the stone wall. Okay, then. Be that way, Terry said, shrugging his backpack off once again. Reach in and pull out those grey blocks, he said. What's this? I asked, doing as he asked. C4, spicy brick, boom cheese. He answered. Well, there should be a small electrical device in the little pockets. That's the detonator.

I need you to get that out and stick the first set of positive and negative wires in one brick and the other two in the second brick. Okay, got it, I said, once I'd finished his instructions. Good, now turn the device on and hit the time set. Then once the numbers flash all zero, run the time up to 15 seconds. Once you do that, go take cover, and I'll start the clock, he said.

Once I finished, I did as he said, and made my way back behind the wall. Then shortly after, he followed, counting once again. Seven, Mississippi, six, Mississippi, little farther backgolds, four, Mrs. Three, Mrs. City. He said, pushing us back away from the opening and covering us with his body. The next explosion I could feel at my chest as it blew a large plume of dust and rubble out from the hallway. Oh, that'll clear sinuses, Terry said.

slowly making his way back into the hall. Give it a second, he said, holding his hand up to stop us from following. Wait and see if anything got knocked loose and hasn't fell yet. After waiting for a minute or two, and we were sure that it was safe, we were able to pass through a hole in the slab which was considerably thicker than we'd imagined. Once we crossed the barrier, the change in atmosphere was immediately apparent. It was now much harder to catch our breath, and the light seemed to not reach nearly as far into the darkness as they had only moments before.

A few steps in, we began to notice small streams of sickly yellow liquid dripping down the walls and puddling on the floor. I shone my light on one of the thin streams as I leaned in for a closer look. Something seemed to glimmer underneath the putrid yellow as it dripped in an almost pulse-like way down the wall. Mesmerized, I reached a single finger out towards the fluid. Every ounce of common sense in my body says to absolutely not touch that shit. Terry said, a few centimetres away from my ear, making me jump with fright. Come on, let's keep moving, he said. The labour in his breath now even more noticeable.

We walked on for hours in the smothering darkness. The air felt thick and hot, but sparse of oxygen as if breathing through a blanket. The sickly yellow fluid became more and more common as well. We began having to actively avoid brushing across it or stepping in it the further we went. And then we saw the first one. Terry, Sandy, what the hell's that? I asked with a quaking voice, hardly needing to hear the answer. That's a body, Terry said, slowly creeping up next to it.

We all gathered around to investigate. I looked all wrong. emaciated but not mummified but it was so old it would have decayed to bones by now if not for that but it looked not fresh but not nearly old enough any clothing it might have once worn had even rotted away with nothing but a few stone and metal buttons left to be recognised what the hell terry said as he squatted down for a closer look it was at that moment i noticed the blood dripping from his hand hit the floor next to a puddle of the yellow fluid. No sooner did it hit the floor, and it very rapidly began to be drawn toward the puddle. All of it. Not a single trace of blood was left, but the dust trail it made as it moved, touched the fluid,

and instantly diffused through it as if it were never there. Guys! Guys! I yelled, trying to get their attention. Look, I said, pointing towards the ground as more droplets hit the floor and were immediately pulled into and swallowed by the yellow liquid. Okay, that looks a lot like our cuter leaf, Sandy insisted. Yeah, yeah, definitely. Terry agreed, as we hurried down the path.

What the hell was that? I asked as we walked along at a brisk pace. Motivation, Terry answered. Motivation to get out of here. Take credit for the discovery and send someone else here so we can never talk about it ever again. That's the best idea I've heard today, Sandy agreed, quickening her pace despite her obvious struggle for air. Wait, wait, noticing this. We need to stop and catch our breath. Eat something and drink some water, I suggested.

We found an offshoot room relatively absent from the strange liquid with some stone chairs to sit on for a bit. Once we took some time to rest and refuel, I opened my bag and withdrew my medical kit again. "'Hey, Terry, let me see your hand. I think we should try changing your bandage,' I said to him. He stood from his seat and walked over to me as I placed one of the portable lanterns next to me, open the kit, and look for some fresh bandaging and disinfectant. "'Does it still hurt?' I asked as he held his hand out to me. "'Nah, not anymore.

But I can't move it really well. It's all numb now,' he replied. "'Well, that's not good. You might have severed some tenders. if you can't move it. I said a little more grimly than I intended. Let me try and see what's going on, I added, taking his hand and starting to unravel the bandage.

All at once, my heart dropped to join my colon as several fleshless fingers fell from the fabric onto the floor, and the putrid stench of rot wafted through the air. Oh my God, Terry! I shrieked as I climbed over the back of the chair in alarm. Terry, your hand is rotting apart, I yelled at him, still looking at the liquefying flesh on his hand, as the bone showed through most of his hand up to the wrists. He squinted at me for a second, cocking his head in confusion, as if not really processing what I was screaming

at him or the reason for my sudden reaction. That all changed the moment he took his vision from me and focused on his own decaying appendage. the fuck is wrong with my hand, he screamed. As he convulsed in shock, the movement caused the remaining fingers to break loose and fall to the floor, leaving only the exposed bone of his barely clinging thumb remaining. His and my panic was joined by Sandy's shrieks of terror once she realized what was going on. I'm not entirely sure who threw up first, but we all got around to it eventually. Either the sight or the smell or a combination of just the situation in general, we all got around to it.

It took several minutes for everyone to somewhat calm down to a reasonable level, but not as long as you might think, possibly due to the lack of oxygen and the exhaustion it was causing. Just get me out of here. Just get me out of here, Terry repeated, as Sandy and I tried to reassure him that he would be okay. Please, just get me out of here. I want to go home, I want to go home, he said, rocking back and forth, holding his freshly wrapped hand. "'Riback!' Sandy screamed from the corner of the room, causing me to turn to her direction.

She was pointing to Terry's old, bloody bandage that we left lying on the floor. The thin stream of the yellow substance had made its way across the room from a puddle next to the wall, and was slowly creeping closer and closer to the bandages. Then, all at once, as the fluid finally touched the mess of gauze and blood, it rapidly enclosed it and snashed it back over to where the puddle had originated. I watched in horror as the red colour rapidly drained from the gauze and dispersed into the liquid. Time to go, I exclaimed, pulling Terry to his feet and guiding him through the opening of the room back into the corridor. As we moved back into the hallway, I fumbled through my pack and withdrew the 38 pistol that I kept stashed away up to that point and tucked it into my front pocket.

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This podcast is sponsored by BetterHelp and Dr. Creepin's dungeon listeners get 10% off their first month at BetterHelp.com slash creep. Another hour passed and the lack of oxygen was starting to take hold. Every breath was painful and labored. On top of that, while we have plenty of batteries for our lights, they became less and less effective at pushing back the dark, void of the cavernous city tunnels as we dove deeper and deeper into the labyrinth. Terry

was the worst off. While he'd stopped sweating, his once bronze-tanned skin had become pale and damped the touch. He could barely speak, and it was all he could do to just about keep up with me and Sandy. He's getting really bad, Sandy, I told her as we sat down to rest again. We need to get out soon. I know that bet, she replied softly, staring at the ground and sliding her. a foot away from one of the puddles that had begun to slowly advance towards us every time we'd stop or slow down. We'd only made it for about 30 minutes once we started walking in before we had to stop to rest. Sandy and I might have been able to go a little longer, but Terry was now only able to move by propping himself up against the wall, dragging his feet little by little. We got him over to a

small outcropping that resembled a bench so he could sit down. Terry, I know you're tired of but we need to keep moving. Please, I said as kindly and patiently as I could through my gasping breath, we should hardly be heard over the deep, wheezing, wet breath of Terry that seemed to get worse and worse with every inhalation of the acrid air. Come on, Terry, try to stand up. I'll help you, I said, taking his arm and putting it around my shoulder. I stood, and the entire sensation, the movement, a lack of weight, the sound.

it made a cold chill run down my spine. I didn't know what had happened, what I just felt, but I was sure it was bad because it made Sandy shriek and sob uncontrollable. I moved away from Terry as fast as I could and turned to face him just in time to see his arm, no longer attached to its body, slide out from under the sleeve of his shirt

and onto the ground with a wretched, visceral sound. Terry, I tried to stammer out, but I look in his eyes. I don't think he felt a thing, if he even knew what had just happened at all. I walked back over to him and noticed the gurgling, moist noises of his breathing, seemed to be coming up from the wrong place. Then, as I looked him over, I noticed something almost completely hidden by his shirt. So I unbuttoned it and pulled it back. I couldn't help but recoil.

The entire right side of his chest was riddled with decaying flesh and open, seeping holes, some of which bowled and spewed as he inhaled and exhaled. I'd found the cause of the gurgling sounds, nausea set in again as I looked down on his rotting torso. The person it belonged to, rapidly being putrefied alive. I can't remember what I was about to say in that very instant, but I never got the chance. because that was when a different, louder sound echoed through the corridor from the direction we'd coming.

We couldn't see the source at first, just the continuous noises of deliberate, dragging footsteps, and loud slurping, sucking, retching sounds. Sandy and I focused both our lights into the darkness and watched as it came into view in the distance. The silhouette of a person began to appear, the gleam of a single metal button, and giving away exactly what was coming towards us. Then it finally got close enough for its face to be illuminated. I still see it when I close my eyes. Its skin was still rotting and degraded as we'd seen it before.

Its head bobbed back and forth as it pulled and jerked his body into each step in its desperate effort to reach us. I watched in revulsion, terror and disbelief as two milky eyes began to pool and congeal in their previously emptying. sockets and roll backwards into its head as a long, grotesque tongue pushed its way out of its mouth with a slimy squelch. As its skin became more lifelike and ductile with each step, as the tongue split and thousands of spines blossomed from the squirming, convulsing muscle, I watched as it reformed itself as it closed in on us. I glanced back to Terry, but noticed his missing arm laying on the floor. One of the streams of liquid had reached it, and what remained of the limb was disappearing into the horrid fluid.

And my eyes met Terry's. Then he looked away, and I followed his gaze down to the revolver in my pocket. I... No, I can't, Terry. I... I couldn't finish my sentence, and just shook my head. Then he looked me in the eyes one last time, a look of pleading and defeat that broke my heart right there. and there. After that, he never took his eyes off my pocket. He just stared at it as tears rolled down his cheeks. I slowly reached into my front pocket and pulled out the small revolver. Holding it tightly in my shaking hand, I pressed the barrel up against his forehead. The sounds of

the corpse growing closer and closer, faster and faster behind me. I counted. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, and pulled the trigger, click, click, click, click. And that was the moment I learned that ammunition can expire. And watched the exact moment Terry resigned himself to his fate. He used his eyes to guide my attention down to his backpack on the ground. Then he looked down the hallway to the right, as if pointing with his eyes, telling me to take the bag and Sandy and run. I'm so sorry, I mouthed him,

unable to force any sound from my lips as tears now ran down my face to match his. I snatched up his bag and grabbed Sandy by the wrist, reading her down the corridor, the sound of tearing clothes and liquefying flesh being peeled and sucked off of bones, filling our ears as we listen to Terry, our friend, die a horrible death.

alone in the dark. We both bawled as we ran away, still fighting for each and every breath we took. We didn't get far before we both slid to a stop. We rounded a corner that led to another hall, strewn with dozens more bodies

that were now slowly beginning to twitch and rive on the ground as they tried to write themselves and stand. But, Sandy, oh shit, what now? I whimpered desperately. Come on, back this way. She answered, pulling me and doubling us back down a different path.

We need to find something that looks like the entrance. We can blow through it with the stuff from Terry's bag. She explained as we ran down corridors and darted around corners. It didn't take long before we had to pause and rest for a second, but that was all it took. One of those things lunged out of a recess we'd stopped in front of and tackled Sandy to the ground. As she screamed and fought back,

I took Terry's crowbar from his bag and, started smashing the creature in the head. I watched as its skull caved in deeper and deeper with each blow, but it wasn't phased at all. Suddenly it gave up on Sandy and turned on me, knocking me back against the wall. I tried with all my strength to hold its face back away from mine, but it was so strong I had nothing left anymore.

Sandy had taken my place and began stabbing it in the neck with her pocket knife, but it still didn't seem to bother it. It pushed and pushed as it forced me to the ground, and its spine tongue wriggled and reached for any part of me that it could find. Then I felt something. The carving tool from that room. It had fallen from my back. Not hesitating, I grasped it as tightly as I could

and stabbed it into the corpse's temple. It went limp in an instant like someone had just cut the strings of a puppet. "'Sandy, get it off!' I shouted. "'What did you do?' she asked as she poured the emaciated body off of me. I opened my hand, revealing the small, pointed gold-coloured tool. You both watched as the creature's blood seemed to evaporate off it, as if it were very hot. I don't think those things like this stuff, I said, putting it up next to one of the trickling streams of yellow fluid, which bent and squirm to avoid making contact with any part of the metal tool.

I'm sure that means something important, but we don't have time to figure it out, Sandy said, leading us further into the hall. We went further and further on until we noticed the walls becoming coarser and coarser, like they were unfinished, still waiting to be smoothed down and carved with new stories. We pressed on. The air was worse than ever now. We were both beginning to become disoriented and weak. First we thought we were hallucinating when we noticed the hallisanship. always getting tighter and tighter. But as the roughly hewn corridors became little more than narrow tunnels, we knew that it wasn't our imagination. We were now walking through spaces in which both shoulders scraped across the wall as we went. Panic began to set in as we gasped for oxygen

in the dark tunnels. We could hear them in the distance now. They were on our trail and getting closer by the minute as we squeezed through small openings and crawled through holes so narrow we had to take our bags off to get past. I can't breathe, Sandy. I gasped as I fought for any air I could get in the cramped space we were crawling through on our hands and knees. I think the walls are closing on me.

They're going to crush me, Sandy. They're going to crush me. I'm going to get trapped in those things. They're going to eat me like they ate, Terry. Please, don't leave me. Don't leave me, Sandy, please, please. I began to panic and bleed, the lack of oxygen and claustrophobia

taking full hold of me. Hey, I'm not going to leave you. You're not going to get crushed, and we're going to get out of here, okay? She said, taking my face in her hands. But we need to keep going. Finally shaking it off, I managed to push on until the crawl space opened abruptly into a cavern. And at the other side, on top of the small flight of stairs, there was a large stone slab, like the one we'd come in through.

We ran for the steps, feeling the air began to return to our lives. lungs for the first time in hours. We pushed it, but it didn't budge. Dynamite, Sandy said, opening Terry's bag. We heard the creatures closing in on us in the distance. Hurry, light it, Sandy said, turning to look over her shoulder at the hole we'd entered through. Hurry! I flick the lighter and brought it up next to the fuse.

Hey, what happens if they just follow us out? I asked, looking up at her frightened face. We'll have to figure it out then. Now, light the freaking thing, she shouted. I touched the flame to the fuse, but it caught too close to the stick. Sandy, run, short fuse, I screamed, trying to push her back down the steps as the dynamite went off right behind us, blowing the stone slab apart and us off the stairs. My vision faded back to me slowly as daylight poured in.

from outside, the deafening ringing my ears still not having subsided yet. Trying to collect myself and look for Sandy. Sandy, we're almost up. I rolled on my side to see a single, twitching human hand, reaching out from a massive pile of snarling, sucking, writhing corpses. She'd landed closer to the entrance. They must have found her first. choking back sobs

I rolled onto my hands and knees and crept as silently as I could towards the steps but I kicked a small rock that brought all their attention straight to me I made a break for the exit with everything I had

climbing the stairs hand and foot I made a mad dash for the light I felt the jagged nails of one of their hands raked down my leg as I jumped through the opening into the partially charred grass outside

and brace myself waiting for them to pile on top of me, but it never came. I stared back into the pit as a glowing eyes stared back at me. They moved back and forth, occasionally reaching a hand into the light, only to pull it back instant, emitting a cry of pain each time as smoke sizzled off their burning skin. I watched on for hours. Their eyes never breaking contact with me, or so much as blinking. The sun was fading, but I was exhausted and didn't have anywhere to go. Couldn't even stand anymore.

Well, I'd made it out, but they'd still just be able to wait me out. My vision was starting to fade again from the exhaustion or the concussion or both. But I could feel my consciousness beginning to slip away as their glowing, sickly yellow eyes peered out from the darkness, waiting for their chance. Hey, you okay? You're bleeding? a voice spoke, jolting me back to consciousness. I opened my eyes to a man standing over me in black clothes.

He knelt down next to me. There are any others? They didn't make it, did they? He seemed to get his answers from the reactions on my face. There's something in there. I managed to stare out and raise a hand to point to the destroyed stone barrier. I'll be out soon, I murmured. No, they won't.

It's already being dealt with, he said, never even bothering to look in that direction. But I did, as one of those things made a desperate attempt to escape out of the opening and into the sunlight, only to be dragged back inside screaming and clawing at the ground as its smouldering body disappeared back down a hole. Still, the man never even glanced that way. You guys set off illegal explosive in the wildfire zone. stupid but that's what helped us find this place in the end he explained or scolded or both we're going to take you back to the vehicles while everyone else handles the mess in there then we'll see about getting you fixed up please get my i started we'll retrieve the bodies he said before i could finish the next thing i remember is briefly waking up in an all-terrain vehicle surrounded by other people wearing the same clothes as a man then shortly after I passed back out

and woke up in a hospital room the man from before was gone but a pale woman with silvery white hair was sitting in the chair next to me once she saw I was awake she picked up her phone and did something on it a few moments later the man walked into the room and sat down next to me we found something we weren't supposed to find he finished the sentence for me

leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on his head. After a moment of eye contact, he spoke again. What do you think I'm about to say to you? He asked bluntly. Um, I guess this is where you tell me not to say anything to anyone about this or else, right? Isn't that what normally happens in situations like this? I answered. With a grin, he replied.

Yeah, sounds about right. For a government conspiracy movie or a story about aliens or something. but we don't care. Doesn't matter to us. Go ahead and tell someone. You'll be in a padded room within the hour. I could show someone where it is, I suggested. No, you can't.

He said, shifting in his seat, allowing me to catch a brief glimpse of a small gold-colored bar he kept in a pouch on his belt. We have a specialist wiping that entire place off the face of the earth as we speak. It'll be like it never. existed. Part of me took comfort in that, but another part felt frustrated that my only two friends in the world had died discovering it, only to have it vanish without a trace. My thoughts were

interrupted as the man spoke again. We have a pretty good idea of what went down in there, he said. You think knowing monsters are real as hard? That's easy. You get used to it, but he went into a situation you weren't ready or prepared for, and it cost you two people, and almost yourself too. He said, as he stood from the chair, you have to live with that for the rest of your life, whether that's ten minutes or sixty years. Then he took something out of his pocket and tossed it onto my hospital bed. He said, small consolation prize. He said as I picked up the pointed tool I'd taken from the room,

just try and keep it to yourself. They'd kill me if they ever find out. He added, waving off a judgmental look from the woman who stood up and walked to the door with him. Then he opened the door and left me sitting there in the bed by myself, twirling the metal tool through my fingers as I looked at it closely in the light for the first time. It's been several weeks that I've been spending in this Peruvian hospital, waiting for whatever punishment I have coming for sneaking into the country. But I've finally worked up the nerve and motivation to tell this story to anyone who will live. Listen. I know now I am no adventurer, but I can't let this be. I need to find out who those people are. They knew things, hidden things that you and I aren't supposed to know. I need this for me, and for Sandy and for Terry. So now, you know. Anyone who has any information that leads me to them, that strange metal, the weird liquid in the city, this mysterious lost culture. anything would be so helpful.

Anything. I hope you enjoyed this latest edition of the Dr. Creepen's Dungeon podcast. If you did, it would be lovely if you could write a nice review or just leave a five-star rating, as it would help me so much to make this podcast go on and on for as long as it possibly can. Well, my dear friends, that's it for this week. One phenomenal story from Joshua Wagoner 90.

We raided the wrong tomb, and more to come this time next week. I hope you're going to join me again. But until that, very, very sweet dreams and bye-bye.