Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 5 Lockdown Horror Stories (Compilation of July 2022)

Episode Date: July 11, 2022

🎉 Ad-free podcast: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Written by Travis Brown DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Talk to nicely. I almost called out of work the day that Tommy Benner's mom caused a school locked down. It was a rough week already. And then, Mrs. Benner decided to start blasting me on social media for being, the worst teacher Tommy has ever had. Since Tommy was in kindergarten, I figured I was both the worst and best teacher he'd ever had, but it was still frustrating to have a parent go off publicly. And it was all because Tommy was struggling with learning letters. So when I heard

that Mrs. Benner was waiting at the front office and wanted to talk to me, the news didn't put me in the best mood. I glanced at Tommy, but I didn't blame him for the situation. He was a sweet kid, small for his age, with dark hair and a bone-deep shyness. It wasn't his fault that his mom was a raging Karen. My walkie-talkie clicked to life again with the voice of Anna, the school secretary. Mr. Harris, did you hear the message? There's a Mrs. Benner at the front office asking to see you. I sighed, took a deep breath, and forced friendliness into my voice. Hi, Anna. Yep.

Confirming that I heard you, but we are right in the middle of a lesson right now. I looked over at the kids, who were actually in the middle of having a snack. Did Mrs. Brenner say what her visit is about? Is this something we could resolve with a phone call later or an email? There was a long pause. The walkie clicked on again, but at first, I only heard Anna, whispering in the background. Mean she's not here. Did you see her? No. I left her right in the... Hey, Mr. Harris.

Sorry about that. It looks like Mrs. Benner isn't in the office anymore. I felt a warm hum of relief hit my stomach, like honey and tea. So she left? I asked. There was a moment of static on the walkie-talkie. No one saw her leave, Mr. Harris. We don't know where she is. The relief I felt was gone. and replaced with a sinking feeling. I looked around the classroom. All of the kids were distracted with their snacks. My teacher's aide, a college intern named Sam,

was sitting in the back of the room helping Jenny tie her shoes. I was getting ready to ask Sam to watch the class while I went up to the office when my walkie-toge went off again. It was Anna, sounding slightly panicked. Mr. Harris, place your room on lockdown. Mrs. Benner seems to have snuck in the security door behind a custod. I repeat, place your classroom on lockdown. There is an unauthorized visitor in the school. Sam was looking at me, biting her lip. She must have overheard the message. Some of the kids were

looking at me as well, but I knew they didn't understand how serious the situation was, except maybe for Tommy Benner. The little boy was staring at me with his sad eyes. He knew his mom was doing something bad. I wondered how bad. What if she was at? actually dangerous. Normal parents don't sneak past the front office to see a teacher. I put on my best smile and went back to my desk to boot up my laptop. Since I was one of the younger kindergarten teachers, I also liked to help our IT department from time to time. That came with perks, including being able to log into our admin accounts. This meant that I could open up the camera system and see what was going on in the halls. I opened the camera feed and right away

found Mrs. Benner. She was trying to be sneaky. I could just see her pressed against the lockers in the East hallway. She gave off classic Karen vibes, choppy, beach blonde haircut, clothes a size too small, way too much makeup. Her face snapped up towards the camera while I was watching. It was almost like she could sense me. Mrs. Benner looked angry. I wondered if she heard my communication with the front office. Maybe she thought I was blowing her off or avoiding a meeting. I was, but it wasn't meant as an insult. It was because I thought she was a psycho, and here she was, proving me right. The woman bared her teeth, then froze. She might have heard something in the hallway behind her. I hoped it was one of our two school resource officers

tracking her down. There was no audio with the cameras, so I couldn't tell. Whatever got her attention caused Mrs. Benner to move faster. She was like a wild animal that got out of the zoo, and she was fast for her size. I tried to track her by switching cameras, but only caught glimpses of her roaming the halls. It hit me all at once that I hadn't followed lockdown protocols yet. I leapt up from my desk, then calmed myself, and walked quickly towards the door.

The kids were all watching me, and I didn't want to alarm them. I smiled as I locked the door and turned off the lights. Friends, listen up. Please, we're all going to play a game, I said, smiling wider but feeling my nerves start to rattle. Everyone scoot under your desks, and we're going to all be extra quiet. Like hide and seek? Jenny asked.

Sure, yes, I said. Please hurry, okay? I went back to my desk to check the cameras, ignoring the worried look Sam shot me. As I clicked through video screens of the hallways, I sucked in a breath. Mrs. Benner was in the same hall as our classroom. She was whipping her head back and forth,

scouring the nameplates on each door. I realized that Mrs. Benner probably knew she was in the kindergarten hallway, but had no idea where my room was since she'd never been there. While I watched, her eyes snapped to my door and she smiled, showing a lot of teeth. There was a moment where Mrs. Benner went into a camera blind spot. Then there was a knock at my door. The kids were whispering, and Sam had gone pale. I took a deep breath and debated whether I should say anything through the door. I could tell Mrs. Benner that she needed to go back to wait at the office, that what she was doing wasn't allowed. I mean, it was possible she'd made an honest mistake. The woman began pounding on the door, then hitting it hard and low.

I realized she was kicking, scrambling to get in like a rabid fox. There was a pause and then a thumb, the hardest yet. I saw Mrs. Benner retreat into the hall, then run at the door. A living battering ram! For a terrible second, I feared she might be heavy enough and determined enough to break through. If she got into the classroom as angry as she was, it would be chaos. Mrs. Benner stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked back. A second later, both of our resource officers stepped into view of the camera.

There was Greg, an old deputy waiting out the last year before retirement, working at the school. And then there was Billy, a new guy, fresh out of the police academy, getting some light of experience before moving on with his career. I doubted either of them thought they'd have to deal with a demented parent and a school lockdown when they got up that morning. Greg raised his hands in a soothing gesture while Billy plastered a fake smile in his face and walked towards Mrs. Benner. She didn't hesitate to attack the closest target, bowling into Billy hard enough to knock both of them to the floor. The woman turned into a shrieking, biting monster. I saw her clamp her teeth on the young officer's cheek.

Billy screamed and pulled away, a strip of flesh ripped from his face. Mrs. Benner sprang to her feet, spitting out the skin and blood. Before she could take another step, Greg let loose with his pepper spray. For an old guy just cruising for retirement, he had fantastic aim. The stream of mace connected directly with the woman's eyes. She roared and moved blindly into the hard tile wall, face first. Greg was on her in an instant, cuffing her with zip ties before moving to Billy to render first aid. The police showed up minutes later, but we had to wait nearly half an hour before the lockdown was lifted and I could open the door.

I found out later that Mrs. Benner had a history of violence and prior arrests. Her last outburst was enough to get child protective services to finally intervene and place Tommy in the care of his aunt and uncle. It was a good move for him. his shyness evaporate over the next few months, like morning fog, cleared away by a summer sun. I dreamed a red dream, then woke up to a claxon alarm screaming. Sirens were going off all over the base, dragging us out of bed. I had my boots on and rifle in hand within 20 seconds. Then I was out the door into the yard.

It was the middle of the night, but every light was on, even the big spotlights at the towers. Our little slice of desert all around the base was shining brighter than any summer afternoon. The sirens wailed again. I spotted my sergeant, directing a group of soldiers towards the main gate. I jogged over to him, boots kicking up sand from the yard. Sir, what's going on? I asked. Sergeant Evans was leaning over with his radio pressed to his ear. It must have been hard to hear orders with that damn siren screeching.

While Evans looked up at me, he was pale. Something's gotten out of the lab, he said. We're under lockdown. I felt my blood drain until I probably looked as pale as the serge. I'd never seen a breach of the lab in the six years I'd been at Echo Base, but the old-timers told stories. Bad stories. Bloody stories.

Tales of whole platoons that disappeared in the desert. After something broke out of the modern catacombs below the base, I tapped a finger above my rifle's trigger guard. Is it? Is it the thing they brought in last night? I asked. All of us surface side guards had an unspoken agreement,

never to talk about what went into the big elevator in the middle of the base that led to the lab. But if something got out, the old rules didn't apply. Evans shook his head. I don't know. There could have been anything in that truck and... A burst of gunfire rang out audible over the sirens.

Then another burst and then rapid fire. The shots were coming from the northern warehouse. Sarge and I both shared a glance, then ran for cover behind a parked Jeep. All around us, other soldiers were taking aim towards the warehouse. Some of the newer guards were shaking, but even the vets looked a little shaky. We'd all seen the truck come in the night before. It was a blackout vehicle, armed, armored, and much bigger than our usual drop-offs. That meant that whatever was inside was considered hostile and dangerous,

and now it looked like it was out. The gunfire stopped suddenly. I spent a long minute leaning around the Jeep. Rifle pointed at the door to the warehouse. The only sound was the siren, and a net stopped like a screamer suffocated by a plastic bag. I could hear my breathing, and Evans is next to me in the new silence.

Lights began to flicker all around us. The spotlights went out first, than the perimeter lights. But the backup generator kicked in, and the emergencies stayed on. That gave us just enough dim, copper, light to see the thing emerge from the warehouse. It was human-sized and shaped but surrounded by a haze.

The shimmer wrapped around the figure, a heat blur that hid any feature or detail. Still, I could sense that the entity was aware of us. Someone fired a burst. There was a tracer round in the mix. I watched the orange wake left behind by the bullet. It should have connected with the thing in the doorway, but there was no impact, no damage, than a few ripples in the haze. One of the guards in the tower nearest to me burst into flames,

and then the entire tower was on fire. More shots rang out, but nothing appeared to affect the entity. More soldiers became living candles all around me. Those were the lucky ones. The creature in the shimmer moved, crossing the base and the time it took me to blink. One moment, it was in from the warehouse. The next, it was near the east gate.

It left a trail of flickering air behind it. All of the soldiers caught in that shine withered away. I saw them age, every second a decade, until they were bone and rags. Neither Evans or I had fired at the creature yet. Sarge snapped his aim to follow the thing as it teleported around the base. For some reason, it didn't seem able to leave. It was caught like a wasp in a mason jar, but we were trapped with it. Evans lowered his rifle and signaled for me to do the same.

Wait for a moment, he said, loosening a grenade on his belt. The figure in the shimmer kept warming around the yard faster and faster, like it was frustrated. Then it stopped dead on in front of us, maybe 20 feet away. Evans didn't hesitate. He tossed the grenade, and it landed right behind the monster. I heard a muffled dump. Oh, God. I whispered.

The grenade was exploding. Slowly. I saw the metal come apart in a spray of fragments, a growing fireball crawling out so, so slow. The detonation was stuck in the air, hanging and expanding in a syrupy ripple ripple. A moment later, it was snuffed out. I felt the entity's attention, but knew it wasn't on me directly. Evans stood frozen. Hey, there's a box in my room, told me.

Please. The shimmer was all around us, and, Evans was aging like the rest. He looked at me, but never finished what he was trying to tell me, before he was wasted away. The haze felt like water full of pins or a cold wind that went through me. Up close, the figure inside was clearly human, but still only a shadow. It looked at me, and I dropped my rifle.

I could tell it was old and lost, and it was getting unbelievably angry. But it didn't hate us. It just refused to stay here. I stumbled toward the east gate, tripping and falling in the sand as I went. There was fire all around me and decay, but I kept my eyes focused on the gate controls. Two switches and a combination code later, the gate began to squeal open. The creature was close. I felt the wind again and the sharp atmosphere.

It wasn't leaving. Leave, I said, not looking behind me. Please leave. That did it. I felt a vicious wind pouring out through the open gate. We were like a plane being depressurized. I grabbed onto the gate controls and held tight. The Malstrom only lasted for a few seconds.

The base was still and silent after it was gone. There were no wounded. Anyone who was hurt was dead. I looked out the empty gate into the star-clogged night sky. The shimmer was moving away from the base slowly, leaving a trail of glass in the sand as it went. The official report was, who would have guessed,

leak. But even the official report didn't make it far out of a black site base like ours. Maybe some senator on some security council glanced at it once, made a note for future budgets, and that was it. As far as I know, the thing that got out of the lab is still walking around the Nevada desert. If you see a ripple in the air that seems like a mirage or a heat wave, check closely for any hidden figures. We carry a lot of things with us throughout life. We carry our years and our choices, bad days and better days, the time we spent in the sun and always regret. Living gets heavy, and the summer I turned 80, I was happy enough. I didn't have much family left, but at least I carried the memory of one with me.

Not everybody in the big house could say as much. That's what we call the nursing home, or an assisted living facility. It wasn't so bad, not like I expected when I moved in. Heck, I thought I was about to turn myself into a prisoner when I arrived at Oakhart. But the building was clean and warm and let in gallons and gallons of sunlight through big windows. The tile floors always smelled like lemon with only a hint of bleach under that. I was happy in my own fashion. And then Oliver Gentles showed up.

Have you ever run into somebody and immediately know they're the kind of person that when they walk into a room, you want to walk out? Oliver wasn't a big guy or hard-looking. In fact, he was a bit of a shrimp. But he had a smell of violence on him, like cordite and vanilla. There was blood so far under his fingernails, it must be staining his elbows. I was sure of it. Funny thing was, nobody else seemed to pick up on the bad air around Ollie.

That's what he liked to go by, Ollie. and he was a hit. Ollie was a charmer, a champ at Canasta, and king of the television room. He had stories and always, always a smile for the ladies. But a cloud followed Oliver.

On some days, literally. The rain started the morning he arrived and continued until the murders. The storms rolled together like puffs from a chain smoker. Curtains of rain lashed those big windows I loved so much, drowning out the sun, burying it in gray thunderheads. That long month reminded me of my time in the war, jammed into a tube of metal with 50 other soldiers 600 feet under the surface of the ocean.

That wasn't good. I tried to keep memories of those days locked up like the few war souvenirs I kept in a trunk in my closet. The memories and the souvenirs both seemed better left in the dark. O'Khart began changing in other ways after Ali arrived. There was a new smell that permeated the halls in on what it was exactly. But it reminded me of dust. and rust and decay. The lights in our room seemed a little dimmer,

the air a little colder. Margie told me I was imagining things. She was my best butt at Oakhart, and she adored Oliver. Damn near everybody did. Somehow, they didn't see what I saw. Nobody else noticed the way that Oliver's shadow lagged about behind his movements, or how his reflection was never quite identical to the man.

I was the only one sensing that the rust smell got worse whenever he was around, and Oliver's smile didn't reach his eyes, stopping short, like a car crashing into a brick wall. I tried convincing myself, it was only my imagination running away from me. me. Margie thought I might be jealous of Oliver, given how popular he was. He's stealing your thunder, Hank, she told me, softening the statement with a wink. You used to be the cool old guy here, and now you have to share the spotlight. Old? Margie. You're six years older than I am, but I look 20 years younger. She smiled and patted my knee before leaving.

That was the last time I saw my friend alive. Tonight to the sound of the fire alarm. We did drills every three months, but I knew immediately this one was real. For one thing, it was three in the morning. For another, one of the staff, Joey, popped his panicked face into my doorframe for a moment. Hank, there's a lockdown. He said, glancing back down the hallway. Please gather with everybody else in the TV room ASAP, okay?

Joey, what? He just shook his head and moved on to the next room. I gathered my old bones up, put on a suit since it seemed like an occasion, and headed to the meeting point. I passed Margie's room along the way. Her door was the only one closed in the hall. away and two members of O'Khardt's staff stood next to it. Everything okay guys? I asked. Both of them looked nervous. The older one tried to smile.

It's all fine. Just please hurry to the spot. We're in lockdown. I hesitated but decided not to press the issue. Margie was probably already waiting with the others. I nodded. and walked away, wincing as a gust of wind rattled the building. There was a window halfway down the hall. I stopped to look out into the night. It was too dark to see clearly, but I could tell there was a hell of a storm kicking off. Rain and thunder, licks of blue-white lightning connecting sky and earth for a few bright moments,

even some hail. The lights flickered. We'd likely be on the backup generator soon enough. I let out a low whistle as another roar of wind cracked a branch from one of the oaks in the yard that gave the nursing home its name. As soon as I got to the television room, I understood something was deeply wrong. Residents stood in clusters, most wearing their robes and pajamas.

There was no sign of Margie. A few staff, including the senior supervisor and several nurses, were talking just outside of the room in clipped whispers. I sauntered as close as I could while still giving them space. It was hard to hear, but I got the gist of the conversation. Lots of no service. Trouble with the phones. Can't reach the police.

and the last made me catch my breath. That earned me a glance from one of the nurses. I tried to look harmless and confused, then moved away. A dead body. Margie's closed door. I felt a horrible acid gurgle in my stomach. Had Margie passed? It wasn't uncommon at Oakheart, but if that was the case,

Why the concerned looks and lockdown? Why reach out to the police? I was working up the right question to ask when I spotted Oliver. He was sitting in one of the armchairs near the fireplace, staring at me. The little man was looking at me like he could see right through me, right through skin and bone to the thoughts inside of my head. When he noticed me watching,

Ollie grinned. The lights flickered again, then went out. There were gasps. A couple of seconds later, the lights came back on. The backup generator must have kicked in. The gasps were replaced by size. Somebody even clapped. I never took my eyes off of Oliver.

I knew something bad was coming. I felt it. There was more troubling Oak Heart than the storm. I was right. As soon as the clapping faded, the backup lights also went dark. Now there were screams. Flashlight beams cut across the room, joined by a handful of battery-powered lanterns and candles. We had light again, but barely.

A faint glow left me standing in a room full of shadows. I could see the chair Oliver was sitting in prior to the blackout, but the man himself was gone. A new screen ripped through the room. A dozen flashlights followed the sound, landing on Jody, one of the younger residents. There was a man lying prone at her feet, surrounded by a puddle of blood. He was one of the nurses, and the missing chunk from his skull made it clear he was dead. Everyone stay calm. Somebody shouted into a room full of panicking seniors.

There was about to be some chaos. I was sure of it, but I wasn't paying attention to the dead body. Oliver was in the process of slipping out of the room into a dark hallway. A stray beam of light passed over Olli, and I saw his shadows stretch out on the wall behind him. The silhouette. wasn't human. It was twisted and horned with limbs so long they dragged on the floor. Oliver turned back and made eye contact with me again. I saw there was a distortion to his face,

like something was moving under the skin. He smiled and walked away. I followed, sneaking past the staff, which wasn't difficult since they were focused on the dead man. The hallway grew pitch black. I regretted not bringing a flashlight from my room. My room. That's where we headed. I could tell even in the darkness. I passed Margie's room again and felt my stomach lurch.

Her body was inside, slowly cooling on the bed with her throat ripped open. I didn't know how I knew, but there was no doubt. in my mind. It was like there was some signal on the rise that night, and my reception was only getting clearer. Oliver was sitting on my bed when I reached my room. There was a light on, though I couldn't see where it was coming from. Hey, Hank, close the door, will ya? He asked. I obeyed and closed myself in the room with whatever was inside of Oliver. His face was moving, squirming, and different every time I looked at him. I know what you are, I told him, and I did. I'd seen something like Oliver back in my submarine days

after getting back on dry land from months in combat. One of the men came back carrying a darkness with him, in him, and it almost killed the rest of us. Oliver grinned. Now his teeth were shattered in black. I could tell you saw me, Hank, it said, breath like a dumpster full of dead rats. Margie called out for you before I bit her throat out. Just wanted to let you know. The man in front of me was just a shell. The darkness that he brought into Oak Heart, the demon that was free now, free and hungry. If I didn't stop it, the thing would keep killing and eating and growing. I knew what I had to do, but I wasn't eager to get started.

I met one of you before, I said. I think maybe that's why I can see you, why I could sense you from the start. I would agree. What happened last time? Oliver asked, eyes flickering between different colors. I stood up and moved to the closet. We had a religious guy on the submarine, a Catholic. He was in seminary school when the war broke out,

and he chose to serve his country rather than finish his education. But the man, James, he kept enough of his training to show us what, to do. We tied up the sailor with the demon. James began an exorcism right there deep in that cold, black ocean. Oliver spat. Priests! Gah! He was a good man, James. I continued, opening my closet, and then pulling out the small green trunk that held all of my relics from my time in the Navy. A wonderful man, but not that strong as a priest. Must have been strong enough if the exorcism worked. By the way, which of your friends would you like me to kill first after you?

I ignored the demon and opened the trunk. Thing is, the exorcism failed. No kidding. The demon was too strong. Too old. Two, it doesn't matter. If James couldn't do it, I'm certain I'd failed too if I'd tried. But James had a backup plan.

I pulled out a wooden case from the trunk. Inside was a Colt 1911 pistol, a heavy piece that fired fat, 45 caliber shells. It was loaded. I had a hell of a time sneaking that. In, past the staff when I arrived at Oak Heart, Oliver stood up, no longer a short man. He was at least seven feet tall and growing. Your plan is to shoot me? The demon asked, voice buzzing.

I hate to break it to you, Hank. But that won't kill me. Just wanted to let you know, it will only... I know, I said, pulling the trigger. The moment Oliver's eyes went dead, I felt the presence in my mind. Killing the possessed wasn't an end of the possession, only a transfer. James managed to hold the demon down until we surfaced. Then he jumped into the ocean, sacrificing himself, just like that young priest in the Exorcist movie decades later.

I thought maybe I could do the same, but when I tried to put the gun to my temple, my finger refused to pull the trigger. I made it out of the nursing home at least, right out through a window into the storm. It's been weeks now, and the thing is only getting stronger. Sorry, Margie. I really wish I'd been able to have been. you properly. Sorry world, I wish I'd been able to do this one last good thing to make up for some of the bad. But even now, it's whispering, chewing, building, taking over very soon. I won't be able to keep it down any longer. I just wanted to let you know. Prison wasn't as bad as I thought it was

going to be when I went in. I got six years for distribution and a few other related charges, but once I was in, the warden gave me a choice, served the full six in a normal wing, or serve one in a specialty block. He didn't give me a ton of details about G2 block, though I got the gist of it. I'd be a guinea pig for testing pharmaceuticals and, in return, I'd get a reduced sentence. I accepted the deal. My first six months in G2 were fine, bordering on boring. There were 32 of us in the block, and we all had the same daily routine. Wake up, shower, breakfast, free time, yard time, experiments in either group A or B, dinner, free time, lights out.

There were occasional variations. Every now and then, there would be morning experiments or even doubles, but usually it was a three-hour blocker. in the afternoons. We all had single cells. The food was edible, at least, and they even let me have a little TV after my first month. All in all, it could have been worse. The experiments that I participated in were mostly harmless, medications, usually. The lab code folks in G2 would have me pop pills, or take injections, or swallow a kaleidoscope of liquids, then we'd all just wait to see what happened. The testing rooms were comfortable if bland. I'd sit in a white chair next to a white table, surrounded by white walls. I knew the drug was supposed to be intense if they strapped me in,

but four out of five times, they didn't bother with restraints. I experienced quite a few rashes, headaches, blurry vision, blood coming out of all orifices, excessive sneezing, that kind of stuff. Much worse than the pharmaceutical tests, though, were the psychological experiments. Electroshock therapy was a miserable experience. The sensory deprivation tank was worse. They left me floating in a completely silent, black, empty space for 48 hours. By the time the doctors pulled me out, I'd scratched up the sides of the tank to the point that my fingernails were popping off.

But nothing was like. Nothing was like the signal and all of the death that came after. The lab techs brought us all into our individual white rooms like usual that day. However, there were no drugs on the table, only a device that reminded me of a metronome. The man overseeing the experiment, a gray-haired doctor I didn't recognize, made it clear I was not to touch the metronome until all of the guards and staff were out of the room. The object had a metal base, maybe stainless steel, and it was shaped like a pyramid. A strip of darker metal ran from the base of the device to the tip.

Pratuding from that strip was a narrow rod with a strange, circular gadget on top. I waited until they gave me a signal from the intercom, then I tapped the device. The rod with the circular cap began to rock back and forth horizontally. It reminded me of piano practice when I was a kid. The metronome gently swaying and providing a pace. But this felt different. For one thing, the device was silent. There was no telltale, tick, tick, tick, like a true metronome.

For another, the rod wasn't moving evenly. It jerked and stuttered like a puppet with uneven strings. Nothing else happened for nearly a minute. Suddenly, the room was filled with sound. Flooded with it? Not the tick, tick, tick I expected, but a rising wine. The volume of the frequency increased until I was folded up in the corner of the room, hands over my ears, begging for them to turn it off. My eyes were closed until I felt a gentle hand touch my shoulder. It was the gray-haired doctor. The experiment was over, he told me. The room was blessedly silent.

I thought they'd take me back to my cell, but instead, they took me into a large holding cell, already full of other prisoners. It was the rest of G2 block, 32 of us total in one big cage. What's going on? I asked one of the guards through the bars. He ignored me and left the room with all of the other staff. I was left alone with the other inmates. I grabbed a seat on one of the benches and tried to relax.

My ears hurt. They ached, and it was only getting worse. Compared to some of the other guys, though, I was in good shape. I noticed several prisoners twitching, shaking, or talking to themselves. One guy, Robbie, was tapping his fist against his temples. He hit himself harder and harder until one of the other men restrained him. I looked around the room for a camera until I spotted one in the corner outside of the bars. I gestured towards Robbie, but there was no response.

Too loud! Too loud! Robbie yelled, pushing free. The signal! Too loud! Other prisoners were muttering about a signal, too. Some were bashing their heads against the bars or pulling out their hair. I estimated about half of the guys in the room were losing it. Hey! I shouted, waving at the camera in the corner.

You gotta help us! Get me out of here! There was a ringing in my ears, but the chaos in the cell was, was quickly drowning that out. One of the newer guys on G2, a skinny meth head, was punching the bars. He hit the metal again and again, hard enough that I saw his fingers break. A little man named Stavos was the first to go completely berserk. He leapt on another prisoner and bit the guy's face, tearing off a chunk of skin from his cheek. Everywhere there was noise, screaming, clanging, shouting. I felt an arm wrap around my throat and just as quickly release as my attacker was himself attacked. I backed into a corner and called out for help. Not everyone in the cage was going crazy,

but those who were seemed nearly possessed. It might have been the adrenaline warping my perception, but some of the prisoners were changing, growing bigger, nastier, swelling. One of the biggest of the bunch grabbed two bars and pulled. To my eyes, absolute shock. The metal screeched and gave way, creating a hole the size of a manhole cover. The giant tried climbing through, but he didn't fit. He roared and turned his attention to ripping one of the benches from its bolts. His loss was my game. I clambered through the opening in the bars and then took off for the door. A red light began flashing and an alarm squealed. They were going to lock down this section of the prison. I'd be trapped. No, no please! I screamed. I screamed.

trying the door. It was locked. I kicked and scratched and yelled at it, but that was no good. Then I heard something thudding towards me moving fast. I barely jumped out of the way before the big guy ran into the door, knocking it flying from its hinges. He stood panting like a bull at a discount rodeo. The man had grown at least a foot taller since we first got into the cells. I risked a glance back and saw that the cage was studded with twisted bars and filled with dead bodies. The few that were still breathing were quickly turning into monsters. Spurts, of course, dark hair grew on them, or the beginnings of ram's horns or thick antlers. The big man stalked off through the destroyed door, and I followed.

For some reason, he ignored me. Maybe he didn't think I was worth his attention. I didn't care, and I wasn't confident the other five or six creatures back in the cell would be so accommodating. The red lights were still flashing in the hallway, and the sirens still sounded. I figured the big guy could punch us right out of the lockdown. I figured wrong. We hadn't gone more than a dozen yards into the hall before gas began to pump out through the vents.

The giant roared. His face longer and larger, more feral than before. The last thing I saw before submitting to the gas was him falling over. I woke up in the prison infirmary. Physically, they told me I was fine. When I asked what happened, they said the experiment ended up causing mass hallucinations. Some prisoners got hurt in the confusion, but nothing serious.

And hey, turns out it was my lucky day. They decided I'd served my time, and I was eligible for immediate release. Only thing was, I had to sign a bunch of papers agreeing to stay silent about G2 Block. One peep out of me, and they promised I'd be done. back for my full sentence with time tacked on for good measure. I asked if I could see some of the other guys from G2. They said no. I signed the papers and left, but I kept an eye out for what I knew was coming. Sure enough, obituaries began to trickle out over the next year. Obituaries for the men I saw die that day in the cell. Most of the posts were short, and I had to find them. That's the thing

about prisoners in G2 Block. We were specifically picked because we wouldn't be missed. There wouldn't be too many questions. I knew that my parole was about the world's cheapest bribe, and I knew that they're still watching me. But I have to put this out there. I have to leave some record of what happened, because that ringing in my ears after the test, it never went away. It's only gotten worse. My theory is that the signal is an infection that spreads faster in some people than others. But that's how I feel. Infected and angry. He wheeled the woman into the emergency room at the start of my shift with no idea what was wrong with her. According to her fiancé, the patient, Lisa Myers, just collapsed while brushing her teeth. It was a slow night in the hospital,

So I spent more time with Lisa than I usually would. I took her vitals and did all the prep. She was stable but unresponsive. I spent a decade as a nurse, most of it in an ED or operating room. And I thought back then that I'd seen every mad, awful thing there was in this world. But the night the woman with the coma came in, I got to see a little preview of hell. It started when they moved Lisa to a private room. I was there as we hooked her up and tried to make her comfortable.

She was beautiful, maybe 30 or 35, with auburn hair and delicate features. There were no signs of obvious illness or injury other than her nose, which would not stop bleeding. Lisa's fiancé, Tom, was a panicked mess. He rambled off a dozen questions a minute, pacing around Lisa's bed and, cleaning his glasses over and over like it would help him see a solution to the woman's sickness. Has anything like this ever happened before? I asked. Tom started to shake his head, then hesitated. She's never gone out like this in the past, he said. But she's been having headaches and nosebleeds for the past few weeks, ever since a work trip. Has she gone to the doctor for those symptoms?

Uh, no. I asked her to, but she just said it was a migraine. I made a woman. I made a note in Lisa's chart. What does your wife do for work? I, I don't know. That made me look up sharply. Tom was struggling with something, looking between his comatose fiancé and me. Tom took a breath. I know she works for the government. She's a scientist, something with minerals. It's all hush, hush, but Lisa seems to like the work. What do you do for work, if you don't mind me asking? Tom grinned. High school history teacher. I got ready to ask more questions,

but bit them back when I noticed the lights in the room were growing brighter. A power surge? Tom noticed something was wrong as well, and reflexively put a protective hand on Lisa's shoulder. The lights reached a blazing point, then quickly dimmed until the room was as dark as an early winter morning.

I watched, rooted to the floor, as the room experienced the ebb and flow of brightness and dimness until the lights flickered and died. They were only out for a moment before the backups kicked on, but I heard shouts and even a scream from the hallway. What's going on? Tom asked, still holding Lisa's hand. I'm not sure, but everything will be fine, I said. Just stay here, and I'll be right back. A few patients were poking their heads out from their rooms. A cluster of hospital. staff, including a maintenance guy, gathered around one of the monitor banks. I began to walk over to them, then slowed, then stopped, then stood dumbstruck as I watched

a stray stethoscope lying on a nearby table, float into the air. Other small objects were also beginning to rise, a tray here, a chart there, even a crash cart. I felt a tug and realized that my hair was drifting upwards. The anomaly ended, and the floating material came raining down. The entire hallway of patients and staff seemed to be in a state of shock. I was still trying to find the words to ask what just happened when the first boom shook the hospital. My first thought was,

bomb. But it wasn't an explosion. It was more like a battering ram or a rock dropped off a cliff. The boom came again, and I saw a crater. form at the far end of the hall. The tile cracked as if under some massive, focused weight. Another hole blossomed five feet ahead of the first. It was like footsteps. A stunned old woman in a hospital gown stood near the second crater gripping her IV tower. She'd come out of her room to check on the commotion. There was a strange hiss audible down the entire hallway. The old woman

burst like a pimple, splattering the wall behind her with a red wash. A doctor a few steps away suddenly launched into the air, his body slamming into the ceiling and then into the floor, breaking on impact. Panic, screaming in more booming steps. Clouds of blood and body parts and people erupted like tiny, wet volcanoes. I watched another nurse running towards me, only to be yanked up into the air, suspended for a moment,

and then slammed against the wall. Something was killing everyone around me and I couldn't see it, An invisible force that was moving through us like a blender. I finally shook myself free and ran as the entity crashed into the nurses station midway down the hallway. I heard an alarm going off. The hospital was going into lockdown. Security must have triggered it from the ground floor. They could see the carnage from the CCTV, but wouldn't understand what was happening.

Not that I had a much better idea. What I did know, though, was a lockdown would trap all of us in the hospital with the thing. I spotted a fire alarm on the wall and ran for it. At least if the fire department showed up, someone could help us, even if they ended up needing to call the police or National Guard or the damn space force. The sprinklers came on when I pulled the alarm, and I got my first look at the creature. It was only an outline in the water, but it was clearly shaped like a person. A small woman, actually.

I expected something bigger, alien, malicious. But the woman didn't seem evil. In fact, as she walked closer, and I once again found myself too scared to run, I saw the form of her face. She was screaming, silently, a look of absolute, perfect agony across her features. Lisa? A voice said from behind me in the hall. I turned and saw Tom standing, staring at the thing outlined by the sprinklers.

He was right. Even though I'd only just seen his fiancé, the entity did. did resemble the woman in the coma down to the same delicate, bleeding nose. Tom took a step towards the creature, then another. He moved past me, hands raised in a calming gesture. I wondered then if he lied before. If Lisa had been sick in the past, or showed some sign of whatever was going on, astral projection, telekinesis, a ghost or a soul on a rampage.

Tom reached for the figure, and I heard a gentle pop. His arm floated from the elbow up in front of us. Lisa, he asked a moment before his other arm came off. Followed by his head. I ran, slipping on the slick tiles and crawled away. My scrubs were dark with water, and I moved without thinking, not knowing where to go, only that I had to put distance between me and the projection. There was an open door ahead of me.

I wiggled in and kicked it shut. The lights were dim again. I looked around. There was a patient lying. still in the bed. Lisa. I heard crashing outside and a scream. A plan flowed into my mind like poison poured into a cup. In all my years as a nurse, I'd spent every day trying to save lives. Not once did I try to take one. That's why it felt so unnatural when I took the pillow from behind Lisa's head. She looked peaceful, but I remembered the contorted features of the thing in the hallway,

the pain she must be in. Maybe it was causing her to lash out. Maybe she'd gone mad. It didn't matter. I decided that I wanted to live, so I placed the pillow over the woman's face and leaned down. After about a minute, the sounds from outside the room stopped, replaced by a familiar, sharp ring. A flat line from Lisa's life support.