Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - Subject 21

Episode Date: October 12, 2022

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Talk to Nice. I watched the sunset bleed. Its outer edges drip like molten gold. In the distance, I hear the hiss of steam before I ever see the clouds rising from the Arctic snow. Told you, Rain says. He stops short of me, slings his rifle over his shoulder and folds his arms. He surveys the sunset like it's a regular occurrence, an everyday thing. There's a reason this place is under lockdown.

So it's true, I say. They haven't let anybody leave for the past three years. Not a soul. I look back at the sunset. A pit of unease grows in my stomach. The shape of it is all wrong. It's pulsing, throbbing like a living thing. Like a monster from science fiction.

What about the guy I replaced? Lently. Sposo. He's dead and gone. I stare at me. Raines waiting for him to crack a smile, to tell me he's fucking with me, that this is all a joke, a little hazing for the new guy, but instead he sighs, looks away, wipes the back of his glove against his eyes. Look on the bright side, kid. The isolation pay is fantastic, ain't it? The pay was

good. Three times my yearly salary, in fact. Never mind the money. Three years is a long time to vanish off the face of the earth. How does the military explain that? You got a sweetheart back home, a couple of rug rats maybe. Not yet, he nods. There's the hint of a grin on his lips. That's what I thought. They don't pick people with loose ends for this kind of thing. They want shadows. People like you and me who can fade away without anybody giving a damn. I mean, I got family. Sure, kid, we all got family. Question is, do they give a shit about you? The question stings.

It stings because I know the answer, but I can't bring myself to say it out loud, so I change gears. What's the deal with the bunker? Raines follows my gaze to the little hill of snow rising from the earth. It's about 100 yards away, and its heavy steel doors are lit up crimson in the setting sun. You mean, why are we allowed inside? I nod.

Official answer is it's classified. Unofficial answer is they're building weapons down there and don't need you getting into things you shouldn't be. I watched the sun drip molten gold, and I ask the obvious question. You're telling me that this is us? I'm telling you it's him, Dr. Thales, head of research and engineering.

I'd heard the name before. The man was supposedly a genius, a real marvel with a resume to rival Einstein and the ego to match. How the fuck did he manage to get our sun to bleed on Earth from all the way across the solar system? Who says that's the real sun? He slips a pack of cigarettes from his parka and slides one between his lips. Smoke? Not for six years. Suit yourself.

He lights it up and takes a drag. For the first time, I noticed the dark bags beneath his eyes, the lines infesting his cheeks, his forehead. Raines looks like a man at the end of his rope. Exhausted. Never used to smoke, he tells me. Pocketing is lighter. Bad habit with no real upsides. But then I got posted here, and it was like I needed something, anything to look forward to.

He breathes out a plume, shaking his head. Cigarettes became my breath of fresh air. Ain't that funny? A little. So, that's it then? You and I are stuck out here guarding some mad scientist? We're not here to guard shit. We're contingencies.

For what? Subject 21. If it escapes, we do our best to slow it down and buy time. Then we die. I open my mouth. but the words are still trying to catch up to the conversation. Hold on. What's subject 21?

One of Thales's experiments. We call it the boogeyman because nobody's seen the thing outside of Thales and his team. But we know that it's powerful. Powerful enough that you and I, plus the rest of humanity, are nothing but ants. If this thing's that powerful, then why doesn't it just break itself out? Rains takes another drag, closes his eyes, savers it. Figure it doesn't want to. You're choking.

Best we've pieced together is that S-21 is in some kind of catatonic state. Doesn't speak. Barely moves. Mostly it just stands in its cell and stares holes in the wall. Sometimes, literally, if you trust the radio chatter. It has to eat. doesn't it? Raines looks at me like I'm four years old, like he almost envies my ignorance. It doesn't have to do a damn thing. That's what makes it special, kid. It doesn't have any rules

because it makes the fucking rules. And that's exactly why Thales is trying to kill it. Behind us, the pulsating sun is dipping below the horizon. A chill creeps under my skin, and it's nothing to do with the plummeting temperature. Why? Why kill this thing if it's just keeping to itself? Isn't that kind of immoral? Might be. Not really my place to say one way or the other, but Thale seems to think S-21 is just dormant, hibernating, that it's liable to wake up any day now, and then, well, all hell breaks loose, and I don't mean that metaphorically. What does this thing do? Shit, nuclear. other warheads? That'd be nice. Easier to deal with, I'd wager. What's worse than nukes?

Just told you, didn't I? Hell on earth. I laugh. It's the only reaction I can think of, because the implication is so absurd that nothing else makes sense. So what? Thales has Satan locked up in his bunker? Raines ashes his cigarette, stomps it into the snow. Worse. I keep my laughter alive, but Raines looks deadly serious. He's quiet, pensive. He watches the shadows creep over the bunker doors, watches them creep across the landscape, and he says, You ever wonder what happened to God? God? Sure. Jesus takes one for the team. Then God just ups and vanishes, doesn't he? There's no sequel to the Bible, some fan fiction maybe, but no sequel.

Not even after a few thousand years. Haven't given it much thought. I'm agnostic myself. Raines cracks a smile. Keeping your options open, eh? Smarter than you look. No, it's not that. I just never really knew enough

to make a decision one way or the other. I couldn't be certain if there was a higher power out there. Well, now you know. Rain steps off, making his way back. toward the hill for shift change. I waddle to catch up to him. I'm still getting used to moving under six layers of kit. You're telling me that this thing, subject 21, is God? He shrugs, his feet crunching against the snow. That's what the troops seem to think. And to be frank, there's been supporting evidence. What kind? The kind that's damn near impossible to ignore.

Raines pauses suddenly, raises a sleeve and checks the watch on his wrist. Then he looks up at the sky, frowns, and keeps walking. I wouldn't worry too much, kid. This is your first day. You'll see what I mean soon enough. And then you'll probably wish you could forget all about it. But I mean, trust me. I let the question go and latched onto a new one.

So all these weapons, what's Thales using them for? I mean, if he doesn't think they'll work, at killing S-21. That's something that there's a low screech from high in the distance. I open my mouth. Raines cuts me off. Shut it. He snaps. He pulls me down to the hill with him, raises a finger. It's the sort of finger that tells me to keep quiet or else. We wait there for what feels like minutes while Rain scans the dark sky, as if he thinks we're about to be spotted by enemy aircraft. How's your shooting kid? he whispers. Pretty good. I say, moving to unslang my rifle.

He puts a hand on mine as if to say, don't, then he adds, keep the safety on. I don't want you panicking and putting a bullet through me. Lazzang sur-gillet, puissance-moyane for 15 minutes. We're like it's their dojo. Preet a pleasure with Leo Jo.

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The conditions apply. Why? He chuckles. I've lasted this long hand. His voice is gone. My eardrums scream. A sound erupts with a low base of infinity. And I fall to my stomach clutching my skull

this pressure built behind my ears like a kettle said to boil. I try to say words. I try to say words. I try to ask if we've stumbled across another weapon, and if it's going to kill us. But when I look at rains, he's got tears in his eyes and his jaw is set. He's got tears in his eyes and the son of a bitch is smiling, ear to ear. He shouts. I look skyward and through the dark clouds bursts an explosion of light.

Suddenly, the world is bright. I stare up in awe and horror as a battalion of winged creatures descends from the heavens. bellowing on trumpets whose sound could shatter mountains. On instinct, I raise my rifle, but the creatures streak past us. They streak toward the bunker. What's happening? I holler into Raines' ear. He thumbs over his shoulder, and I almost miss it in the creature's blinding light.

But Thales' sun has risen again. It's pulsing, shuddering. It's rising from the horizon and spinning as its molten rays tear away from it, and hurdle toward the creatures. They react, but not fast enough. Thales' weapon is gruesome in its efficiency, in its totality for destruction. The blazing arrows snapped through the air like heat-seeking missiles,

finding their marks and engulfing the creatures in flames. One by one, they fall to the ground. One by one, the trumpets that could shatter mountains are made silent. Soon, the sky is clear. The Arctic outpost at the end of the world is quiet again, and I'm left alone with rains, trembling in a snowfall of ash. Were those things? The word is on my lips, but it almost feels blasphemous to say. Something floats onto my shoulder. It's white and smeared with soot, and I think it might be a

feather. Angels, Rain says, standing up. At least, that's our best guess. They've been the rounds every couple weeks or so, ever since Thales got his hands on Subject 21. Tricky things. Never fall for the same weapon twice. Raines says the last bit, as if he's giving them some kind of begrudging respect, and all I can think about is the ringing in my ears. The fact that after this, we're fucked. If angels are real, and if God is real, then that means hell is real.

And right now it's looking like the premier destination for both of us. We just murdered, I breathe. A hundred angels. Murdered? I wouldn't bet on it. Almost on cue, fallen feathers begin to coalesce all across the ashen snow, vibrating violently. They hover for the space of a heartbeat,

and then all together they shoot upward, piercing the sky like gunshots and leaving glowing pillars in their wig. The pulsating sun slows, then falls back beneath the horizon. and darkness finds us again. You okay, kid. My heart is beating so fast it hurts. My body is covered in goosebumps,

and I'm trying to tell myself that I'm dreaming. That this is some leftover Sunday school trauma working its way out of my system. This is not what I signed up for, I sputtered. I mean, holy shit, rains. I'm not going to sentence myself to an eternity and damnation, because clearly that exists now. Just to satisfy some good.

government curiosity, or one man's vendetta, or... I cast about for the words, but there's nothing there. I'm too scared, too weighed down by the overwhelming immensity of the situation to properly formulate my thoughts. Thought you didn't believe in God, Rain says with a grin, pulling out a fresh smoke. Agnostic, wasn't it? That was before I saw an army of angels get picked out of the sky like birds. Raines lights his smoke.

And then he sits down in the snow. Look on the bright side. Shifts almost over, and our relief should be coming over the hill pretty quick. You hungry? It takes me a second to answer, because I can't believe how relaxed he is. I want to grab him and scream that we're the bad guys. But before I can muster the rage, he pats the ground beside him. Take a seat, kid.

I've been here a few years, so there ain't much that surprises me. Not these days. I stay where I am. My chest is heaving like a bellows, and I don't know if it's what I just saw or the cigarette. But I feel lightheaded and woozy. I'm afraid if I sit down, I'll black out. What's Thales' deal?

I mean, is he like some kind of a cult monster? Militant atheist? Thales and atheist? Raines laughs. Laughs hard enough that he starts coughing. Far from it! Might be the most God-fearing Christian I've ever met now that you mention it. I'm not tracking. No, I suppose you wouldn't be. Thales is a complicated

man and not without his faults. But one thing you cannot deny is that the man is devout. Grew up in the Bible Belt, reads his book every night. Hell, rumor has it used to moonlight as a preacher in days past. A preacher? I muttering disbelief. Why would a preacher want to murder God. Same reason any good Christian does anything, Rain says, blowing smoke into the sky, because God told him to. I open my mouth to reply, but the words aren't there. A thousand questions are ricocheting around my mind like bullets, but I can't seem to grab hold of a single one. Instead, I take him up on his offer. I sit down next to Raines, and I reach out my hand. On second thought, I tell him, I will take that cigarette.