Lighthouse Horror Podcast - I Worked On A SECRET Government Project. I'm The Only One Who Survived | Scary Stories

Episode Date: October 12, 2023

Get out now.      Story from Saturdead Make sure to check out more of their work at u/Saturdead                       Original Post: I worked for the Department of Unknown Crises : r/nosleep  Original YouTube link: I Worked On A SECRET Government Project. I'm The Only One Who Survived      For more stories like this one, check out my YouTube channel: Lighthouse Horror | YouTube  Patreon: Lighthouse Horror | Patreon Merch: lighthousehorror.com  Music: Lucas King - YouTube Myuu - YouTube  Incompetech Darren Curtis Music - YouTube  Thank you for listening to this scary story! If you enjoyed this new creepypasta story, please check out some of my other horror stories. We'll be uploading new episodes every day, featuring ghost stories, haunted encounters, mysteries, true stories, creepypasta, and anything supernatural and paranormal. Don't miss out on the thrill and suspense that await you in each episode!

Let's consider some hypotheticals. Let's say you got yourself a master's degree. Let's say that you got a job at a small branch of state government. Let's say you work there for the better part of your early adult life. You built everything around that job. Got an apartment, moved in with your girlfriend, had an orange cat with a seemingly single brain cell. Life is good, right? I mean, hypothetically. And then comes along this man.

Say he works in conjunction, works in conjunction with the federal government and the private sector. This guy, I mean, he reeks corporate. He's got a suit with a custom cut, no labels on his clothes. Tells us that we're going to be working closely with a small department that has recently got a boost. Apparently there's a need for expansion and some people from my branch will be moving on up. Let's say that one of those people is me, hypothetically.

All right, I'm going to stop that. It gets to me. You can safely assume that I've changed some details to make myself a little less recognizable. I had to move from Milwaukee up to Superior. Sarah and I tried to make it work, but she couldn't leave the city behind. It came down to a choice between me and the rest of her life. Made sense for her to stay. Kind of pissed that she kept that cap, though.

I mean, that thing loved me. I started working at the DUC in September of 1998. At first, I didn't even know what the acronym stood for. It wasn't a matter of secrecy, but they had these stupid sayings plastered along the walls that people followed to a T. For example, water off a DUC's back. This was the standard operating procedure. Don't ask too many questions.

Let your questions and worries drift right off, like water off a duck's back. They displayed this proudly, and you know, the lunchroom with a picture of a duck peacefully sleeping by a pond. We worked in collaboration with other agencies in Michigan, Iowa, and Minnesota. I helped them develop software to codify reports of invasive ecological species. It would break down verbal reports with a bare-bones text-to-speech system, which in turn is transcribed and separated into categories. Categories were measured, analyzed and turned into probability reports. Once information had been categorized, the most prominent reports would be sent to the department lead. Seems simple by today's

standards, but back then, I mean, it was cutting-edge stuff. It was November 1999 when we finalized the final version of our system, lovingly named Daisy. Hours before the launch party, The department lead took me to his office, closed the blinds, and sat quietly across from me for about two solid minutes. This man, the department lead, was Thomas Rubin, a 67-year-old ex-drill sergeant that was very dramatic. He kept his head as bald as his lies. Having worked there for over a year, I thought I had a foot in the door by then. But it turns out, I was still on the outside until that very moment. Thomas poured me a shot, mint schnapps.

To a job, well done. He said, raising his glass. I accepted the invitation and down the shot. I mean, what the hell, right? Do you have recurring nightmares? He asked. Seeing something strange at night? Those, those last few hours before the sunrise, do the shadow

Those gain a peculiar tint. No, sir. You're not a very haunted man, are you? I am not, sir. Well, I can work with that. He poured me another drink. I can get you working on the real deal. He said.

But you're not going to like it. You're not going to like it. One bit. That sound like a party to you? I took the glass and studied it. Little sugar crystals swirling around, backlit from a lone computer screen. I down the second shot, and Thomas smiled. Imagine a lighthouse, he said.

And whenever someone thinks about the lighthouse, it lights up? with me so far? Yes, sir. And this lighthouse draws in all kinds of things from far and wide. Traders, smugglers, warships, everything. But you don't want that. The beach is closed and those ships are bad news. What do you do?

We turn off the lighthouse, sir. But it comes right back on whenever someone thinks about it, even when you do it. Okay. We demolish the lighthouse, sir. Same thing. Pops right back once you think about it. Try again. Well, we forget about it, sir. You can't unknow something. Then you'd have to go after the people that not. know about it, and you'd have to be careful not to learn anything about it yourself.

I said, And that's what we do, said Thomas. We turn off the lighthouses. Thomas elaborated over the course of three more shots. What he was describing was an invasive ecological agent, something that literally grew from the ground. Its very presence acts as a sort of go-ahead for other more dangerous entities, but thinking about it too much causes it to appear. Not immediately, but slowly over time. The more you knew, and the more intimate your knowledge about it was, the stronger the connection

would be. I was safe, though. You had to know the details to trigger it. Thomas This gave me the example of a red lily. You couldn't just know it was red or a lily. You had to know both these things to imagine it clearly. Once you did, there's a chance it starts appearing more and more in your everyday life, until it takes physical form. And by then, you've opened an express highway to something far darker and far worse. The DUC, or the Department for Unknown Crisis, was founded to combat these entities in a way

that doesn't endanger the general populace. We were preventative, mostly. The software we made scrubbed away all details and simply stated an address, sometimes a person, and the likelihood of there being at least one physical manifestation of the invasive species present. As the system was automated, there was no way for us to know the details. Only the computer knew. According to Thomas, there was a time when these things had been completely eradicated. Right before the start of a Second World War, there had been a concentrated effort to remove them.

The methods they used were later adopted in the creation of the DUC. out, those things can't ever be truly removed. There was an author who documented these ecological entities to such a degree that it could be used as a gateway. While he passed away in 1926, possibly as part of the containment. His diaries were discovered in the 60s. Since then, the invasive species had free rain with no one to stop them. There had been some loose efforts, but mostly from the private sector, but it took the creation of the DUC to start the work on a larger scale. And there we were. From that point forward, I started to work with more specific field equipment, since being able to imagine the object is something that triggers it to manifest. We needed a way

for field agents to physically remove them without putting themselves in danger. We came up with something we called the blur guard, a full headset that removes all color, dampen sound, and mildly blurs your vision. Going back to the example of a red lily, the blur guard turned it from a red lily to some kind of flower. Now that's not enough detail to trigger a manifestation, and thus it was deemed safe. Since our software knew what to look for, we incorporated a camera and basic image recognition. There'd be a little green light showing up whenever what we were looking for was in view. From that point on, our field agents could play hot or cold until they found what they were supposed to remove. And when it came to people, well, we can't kill them, or

have them unlearn something. So instead, there was a targeted effort to herd them into place where we knew this problem was prominent enough to go unnoticed. The DUC had done it for decades. There were personalized, targeted efforts, maybe sending a very juicy job offer, enticing a target to move, things like that. We focused on two main sites, a rural town in Minnesota and one in West Virginia. There were talks of one up in New England, but that was a separate department. These places have been absolutely scrubbed. To this day, you can't even find them on a map. Our colleagues in the private sector bought out pretty much everything there is to own, giving the DUC close to full control.

It might seem cruel, but most of these people had no idea that they'd been manipulated. They lived good lives. We did our best to turn off as many lighthouses as we could, but in a town of the town of like that. Some were bound to pop up eventually. All right, let's skip ahead a couple of years. In the summer of 2004, I'd been on a rotation assisting with the development of new equipment. I was also updating both Daisy and the Blurguard. We'd implemented generalized search filters looking for the trigger words that Daisy could use, increasing our information input tenfold. Hell, about 90% of forum infrastructure could be breached to censor descriptions of the invasive

agents if needed. We had basic bots prowling most major discussion forums to contain eventual spread. This one night had taken my work home with me to work on a camera light. Some field agents had mentioned image recognition issues in low light areas, where the camera refused to work. So I figured an extra light source would go a long way. I was blasting my work time playlist on my laptop, sipping on a second rum and coke. If I was going to do extra work from home, I might as well make an evening out of it. Just short of midnight. It was time to try it out. I turned off the lights, put on my helmet, and I checked to see if the camera light auto-activated as instructed. It did. Strange thing, though. I was getting a little.

green marker. The helmet was recognizing the invasive element right in front of me. Now I know my own apartment, top the bottom, so I know exactly what I was looking at, blurred helmet or no. I'm obviously not going to describe it to you, but it had the appearance of a household plant. It was quite large. I'd had it in my window for years. For the same, sake of storytelling, let's call it a red lily. Like in Thomas's example, suddenly it dawned on me. Now I knew what the invasive agent was. I couldn't unlearn it. And from that point forward, I was going to be a threat to the department. This was an invitation for red lilies to pop up out of nowhere, making everyone aware of them. But first and foremost, they'd be a

lighthouse for other things to come. I pulled the lily out of the pot, roots and all, and I shoved it down the garbage disposal. I swear, the damn thing screamed. The empty pot was left on the window cell. Moments later, my phone rang. It turns out my mind. It turns out my Blurgard was actively connected to the daisy system. I'd probably sent out a report to the department lead with my name and address the moment it recognized the species. I held my breath. I was just trying to calm down. This was going to spark a series of events. There'd be a report and investigation. I'd most likely lose my job and be forced to relocate. No? Worse? This was a report. This was unprecedented. As expected, the call came from Thomas.

What's going on? He asked. I'm working on the internal camera light. I think there's a malfunction. We got a possible match on your location. I know, I know. It's not a big deal. It's nothing. We're going to stick to protocol on this one. said Thomas. Expect three field agents on site within 15 minutes. Don't go anywhere. I pulled my hair. My hands wouldn't stop shaking.

I usually get the shakes when I'm losing control. I figured I'd better remove all traces of that plant. Whatever parts were stuck in the garbage disposal and whatever remained in the pot. except when I looked back up, there was another red lily growing from the pot. It was almost exactly the same, like it never left. Now, I can't stress this enough. You can't unlearn things. You can't unremember something.

I tried not to think about it, but that just made me think of it more. I fetched a Rubik's cube from my desk to focus on something else, but as soon as that color showed up, my mind sank back to thinking of it. I got a garbage bag and I threw the whole pot in, along with the rest of the garbage. There'd be nothing left. I went room by room looking for anything even remotely resembling it, but there was nothing. So I left the apartment. I just wanted to throw it all away.

But you see, there's this communal garden project outside my apartment building. It was filled with these things. There were dozens of red lilies. My mind blanked, and I could feel my pulse rising in my throat. This entire neighborhood could be compromised, possibly more. And I couldn't for the life of me remember if the lilies had, been there earlier that day or if it was a reaction to my realization. These things, they were insidious. They not only appear when you think about them, but they make a conscious effort to pop up

when they are least expected or wanted. I called my landlord Jerry and I started pulling up lilies from the community garden with my free hand. Some of them screamed. It was like a tiny whale from a baby. Some of the lilies clung to the dirt, digging their roots deeper. Others came willingly. One of them withered in my hand, giving up completely. When Jerry finally picked up, I was out of breath. I need to ask about the communal garden project, I said.

I work with the Department of Faith. fish and wildlife. There's a bit of an invasive species growing here, and I need to establish a time frame as to when they appeared." Uh, okay. The red lilies. The community garden lilies. They're actually a dangerous and invasive species. Do you have any idea how long they've been here? I asked. Red lilies. Oh, yeah. We've got those for a while.

How long? There was a silence on the other end. Maybe he was thinking about it. I didn't have that kind of time. How long, Jerry? Oh, look, I don't know. Eight, maybe nine years? I grabbed my hair and pulled.

The pain in my scalp forced me to concentrate. A handful of hairs gave way. Okay, thanks, Jerry. If you see these things, Just throw them away immediately, I said. Okay, I'll do that. He replied. And don't tell anyone, I said.

We don't want to alarm people. And I hung up. I was flailing, breaking protocol left and right. I was a breach waiting to be sealed. I was on my knees and the dirt, pulling up red lilies by the handful. One of my neighbors walked past, and I could hear her dog whining at the sight of me. Or maybe it saw something I didn't. There was no telling what this would mean.

Most breaches we'd encountered was one or two of these things at most. They were usually contained to the Minnesota side of the operation. Them having skipped the state line and latching onto me was alarming. this could prompt a whole new level of response. I knew Thomas had a level black response where termination of lives would be necessary to contain the threat. But we never employed it. Not yet. But looking around me and running the numbers, this might be it. This could be the first time they'd have to kill people. And I'd be the first in line. The field agents would be there any moment. My hands were red and raw from pulling up all those lilies and stuffing

them into the garbage bag. I was so frantic that I grabbed everything that even remotely resembled them. Anything red, anything lily shaped. I tore up more than half the community garden in 10 minutes flat. I could hear a car coming. I couldn't take any chances. I looked over the garden again, I couldn't see any of them, and I sprint into the garbage cans. The moment I'd thrown it all away, I saw headlights turning the corner, and I recognized them. I brushed my hands off the best I could, and I shoved him into my pockets. A white hatchback with government license plates pulled up, and three people got out. I tried to stay calm.

I tried not to think about red lilies. I tried to smile. I could tell that I was looking at Agent Estevez, Young, and Owens. I'd worked with these people plenty of times to prep them for excursion. Never to this extent, though, and never on this side of the States. They all fixed and activated their Blurguard helmets. Rough night? Asked Estevez.

Yeah, yeah, I nodded. Working on an update, you know, the helmet kind of, you know. Yeah, sure, sure. We'll just check out the apartment and be on our way. You mind waiting down here? No, yeah, yeah, no, I mean, that's fine. I said. They turned on their image, RECog, synced their comms, and gave me a pat on the shoulder. Hey, it's okay, man, we'll be in and out, said Young.

Sorry about all the trouble. I watched them ascend the stairway while I stayed out by the garden. I was going to make sure nothing popped up. If the agents just up and laughed, I could come up with a plan. I'd tell Thomas eventually, but I had to be clever about this. I had to assess the damage and spread to make sure I could trigger a quarantine rather than an eradication-level response. Still, looking around the apartment,

complex, there were probably hundreds of people living there. These things could have made their way into every single household, opening the way for pretty much anything. Not that I had the slightest idea of what that might be. I was lost and thought for the better part of half an hour. What the hell was taking them so long? Had they found one? I walked up the stairway. And I put my hand on the apartment door. It was quiet. It shouldn't be quiet. I got this sinking feeling.

Like my body heat was leaking out of my feet. My mind started to race with possibilities. Maybe they left. Went to the wrong apartment, maybe. Maybe they're watching TV on my couch, having a beer? Burning a red lily in the tub. Whatever they did, they wouldn't do it quietly, and this was quiet. I pushed the door open and was met with a chemical smell, like a moist mix of methanol and iron.

It was strong enough to taste. Estves? I coughed out. You guys okay in there? No response. I stepped back out, gasping for fresh air. The smell burned my nose hairs. My eyes teared up as I tried not to sneeze. I didn't want to go back in. I knew it was bad.

I could feel it in the pit of my stomach. But still, I didn't have a choice. I stepped back in and I shut the door behind me. I flicked on the lights. They'd been torn to pieces. There was blood dreams. dripping from the ceiling. Two severed arms on the kitchen table. An armless, legless torso resting on the couch. The blood sinking into the cracks in the leather. The floor was covered in gore, torn straight

from their bodies and left in the open. Muscle, sinew, vital organs, all splayed out on the floor and firm. There was a single red lily in a brand new pot resting on the window cell. There was a bright red handprint on the bathroom door. I gently pushed the door open only to reveal the severed heads of Estevez, Young, and Owens, unceremoniously thrown into a pile on the floor of my shirt. shower cabinet. And I don't know how long I stood there. My mind went completely blank. I could honestly not tell if this was real or a nightmare. For a moment, I was awash with this relief. It had to be a nightmare, you know. It didn't make sense for something so terrible to happen so

suddenly. It took me a while to realize that there was something looking at me in the bathroom mirror. I turned to it. My face wasn't there. Just a dark space where my face ought to be. It was like staring into a hole, vaguely shaped like a humanoid. It followed my movement as I leaned my head left, and right. We looked at one another in silence, hearing only the blood dripping from the living room ceiling. A trembling whisper burrowed into my spine.

Hello. This was one of the things Thomas had warned us about. This was one of the ships that came to shore following the lighthouse. One of the countless entities, invited into my world, drawn in by this, this thing. That thing, it ought not to be. I hate calling it a red lily. I want to scream what it is, and I've torn them apart, but I can't describe them, or they'll spread everywhere. The longer I stared at the thing in the mirror,

The more I understood. It was one thing to know about the red lilies. It was a hundred times more potent to know exactly how they worked. For an average person to know their appearance might invite a few to pop up, but to know them at the level that I did, this was an entirely different thing. To these things, I was precious cargo. I could light a hundred lighthouse. A thousand.

They perceived Estevez and the other agents as a threat, and they disposed of them immediately. I was the equivalent of a carrier. Patient Zero. I was stuck in the eye of the storm, and everything around me would be torn to shreds. I ran a hundred scenarios in my mind. Destroying everything was an obvious choice. But that would be the nail in the coffin that would force Thomas to take violent action on this entire apartment complex. Without context, you wouldn't know how to contain it.

Losing personnel was the final criteria for a black-level response. However, if it was attributed to a breach of protocol or faulty equipment, I could bring it down to a quarantine. There was hope. But I had to explain it, and I had to stay alive. As I thought of my options, I heard a running motor outside. I stepped out of the bathroom and out of the walkway. Another two white hatchbacks had pulled up.

I'd lost track of time. No one in Estevez's team had reported an all-clear or anything. This had prompted a standard backup response. If these teams found traces of anything, our entire field division would be called then. They'd probably put people all the way down to Des Moines on high alert within the next 15 minutes if there was no de-escalation. There were already new red lilies growing in the community garden. They wouldn't let me talk. Talking was a hazard since I could verbally describe what they were looking for.

I mean, I could yell out. They look like red lilies. And the entire squad would be compromised. Up until this point, we'd never had to worry about that kind of willful exposure. And there was no plan for it. The DUC didn't have enemies in the active sense. We were preventative. There was no way they'd let me talk or leave. Not with three human bodies in my apartment. At best, they'd gag me and burn this place to the ground. At worst, they'd shoot me. And then they'd do the same. I scurried along the walkway, turning left at the far end.

I took the fire escape to the ground floor, hugged the wall of the building, and I circled back to the parking lot. I burst into a sprint for my sedan, and luckily no one noticed, at least no one that cared. As soon as I got on the highway, I called Thomas. I had trouble staying in my lane. My hands kept cramping up, but Thomas picked up. I could hear him opening a door, putting on a jacket. You gotta tell me what's going on.

He said. Where are you? I had to go. I had to. The place is infested. I said. So let's... deal with it.

I didn't know what to say. I mean, there was no good place to start. I leaned back in my seat, tried to keep the car straight, and I took a deep breath. There were flashes of red by the roadside. It could have been red lilies. The backseat was dark, dark enough to hide a possible shape. I thought I saw an outline in the rearview mirror, but it might have been my mind just playing tricks. Stay where you are. I'll have someone pick you up and we'll deal with it. He said,

I can't. I said, it's bad, Thomas, it's real bad. All right, how bad we're bad we're, we're talking. We're talking. We're talking quarantine. Breach of protocol. At least three. casualties. Thomas took a deep breath. He held the line for a few seconds. I could hear him get into a car. You know, don't you? Yeah, they're everywhere. I can't stop seeing him. Don't you? And he was right? I can't stop seeing him. Don't tell me anything. Nothing. I shouldn't even be talking to you.

And he was right. Talking to someone like me who knew was like trying to pet a rattlesnake. It could all be over in one snap. We got to bring you in. What are you going to do? Did we lose people? Estab as his team. I said,

something came through. Jesus, are you saying you're causing manifestations? I don't know. But you do know. You, if anyone knows, so tell me. Looking back in the rear view, Mayor. I knew there was something riding along, something that had caught on to me, something that had stepped into our world, following the light of the red lilies. There was no point in denying it.

I'll figure it out. I'll deal with it, I said. Before Thomas got the chance to object, I tried. I turned off my phone and I threw it out the window. I drew up for the better part of an hour before a familiar sound snapped me to attention. Whatever surface-level plans I had made in my head dissolved completely. I heard the sound before I saw the flashing lights.

A siren. I was probably swerving left and right, trying to keep the car straight. No wonder I was being pulled over. This could get real bad, real fast. I thought about booking it and hoping for the best, but that just draw more attention to me. Instead, I found a secluded spot, and I pulled over. It was only as I pulled the handbrake that I remembered I'd been drinking earlier that night.

I had about two rum and coax. I'd completely forgotten about it. I tried to consider my options, but there was no time. I was told to turn off the engine, roll down the window, and place my hands on the dash. There were two officers, a man and a woman. I could barely hear them over my beating heart. To them, it was just a routine stop, but I was trying to save lives. They had no idea what could.

of trouble they were in. I tried to wrap my head around it, to come up with something plausible that they'd understand. I could tell them I had a bomb strapped to me, or anything, but there was no time. I hadn't even heard them asking for my license and registration. I could feel a flashlight shine on my face, but I barely registered it. They asked me three times, and then they changed tactics. Sir, we need you to step out and place your hands on the hood of the vehicle. I fumbled my response. There's something in the car. I said, you, you got to be really careful.

There's... Sir, is there currently a weapon on your person? Something that can puncture or wound my partner. A pencil, a knife, a sharp set of keys, maybe. She asked. No, no, no, no, listen, you, you got to step back, that there's something in... My thoughts blanked. There, by the side of the road, I saw one.

A red lily, clear as day, growing through the cracks and the pavement. Sir, I need you to cooperate with me. The officer insisted, have you been drinking tonight? I couldn't take my eyes off the red lily. It was like a reminder that this was already over, that my fate and theirs was sealed the moment we met. Dead man walking. Please, I said, let them go.

For a second, I might do it. I was willing to listen to, give in if that's what it took for these people to live. The Red Lily knew. I know it knew, but like a lighthouse, it can't help but shine and to bring ships to shore. And with that,

a familiar tremble rose in my stomach. There was a flicker as one of the lightpost went out. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my tears in. The officer to my left started screaming. I heard a gunshot, but it was muffled, as if fired into something at close range. I heard fabric being torn, then flesh, then sinew and arteries. No one ever told me it was possible to discern the sound of marrow separating from breaking, bone. But now I can't stop hearing it. Primal animalistic screams. Splotches of blood

rained down on the concrete and the hood of the car. I could feel something warm spatter across my face and run down my cheeks. And then the scream stopped. I had sunk to my knees. I must have looked like a crying altar boy praying for it all that just And when I finally forced my eyes open, the world was red with blood. In the flicker of a dying light post, I saw something vaguely human drop the sundered remains of a torso. It followed my head movements, left to right, left to right, mimicking me. I could tell that it was proud, like a dog bringing back a stick to its master. I stumbled to my feet, leaning against the car to study myself.

The concrete was slippery with blood, and I kept stepping on something. I tried to look straight ahead as to not look at the entity too closely. It was just standing there. In the middle of the street, looking at me, waiting for me to say or do something, I just look straight ahead, pretending it wasn't even there. The car took a few turns of a key to start. The steering wheel was slippery with blood, but I managed to steer back onto the road. The windshield wipers smeared the gore into a thin red veneer.

I had to go away, far away, and there was only one place I could imagine. As I mentioned earlier, the DUC had certain containment areas. Previously, these were spaces where they simply moved people of interest, but with me there, they'd have to leave it alone. I would be far too dangerous to interact with. interact with. They'd have to trust that I wouldn't interfere as long as I kept to myself and out of the way. I burned my car in a field, and I walked nine miles. This was a town designed to keep people comfortable enough, not to ask questions. So having a stranger wander in off the

streets wouldn't be a problem. And everywhere I looked, there were red lilies. They were in the middle of every house. By the roadside, in every garden. Hell, they were even used as a logo. I'd seen that logo a hundred times. Maybe they had no idea what it meant. I've stayed in that rural Minnesota town ever since. I have seen more horrors than you can imagine. But they seem to ignore me. They treat this place as a nesting ground. Or maybe it's a staging area. Considering how many of them there are, I'm astounded that anyone is still alive. The DUC has declared this entire town a hazard. I've tried getting in touch with Thomas again, but all my attempts at communication with the outside world have been censored. If this, by some miracle, gets

through the filters, I urge the DUC to get in contact with me. I want to help turning off the lighthouses. And is for everyone else. The best thing you can do is the stuff. Stop asking questions. Don't question the armed men with strange helmets. Don't look too closely at the strange plant in the community garden. Don't look for anything abnormal. And if you see something, try to consider it might be artificial. Don't dig too deep into this.

If you're not involved, consider yourself lucky. and stay out of rural Minnesota.