Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - The Warehouse

Episode Date: August 15, 2022

🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎧 Check out my true crime podcast called Crimehub on Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Amazon Music. 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Ryan Major Check out more of his work here: https://www.reddit.com/r/gtripp14/ 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

Before we get into this story, I would like to thank Kanye, Jesse, and Dana for joining my Patreon. Your support goes a long way. For all of you who would like to gain access to my bonus episodes as well, head on over to my Patreon page at patreon. At patreon.com slash DR No Sleep. The link is also in the description below. Thanks again. Now time for the story. Get them containers lined up, boys!

shouted this stout old man from the catwalk. Marcus Jasper, the warehouse foreman, was a wall of muscle topped off with a wild tangle of long white hair and a bushy beard. If Santa Claus had a Viking cousin, Jasper would be it. Our delivery window opens in less than 24 hours, and we've got pups on the crew this time. Gotta show them the ropes! Jasper looked down from the catwalk and gave me a wink as I drove of the forklift forward. Dozens of other men scurried around the cavernous room, checking shipping manifests and container contents.

I'd been working for shift logistics warehouse for eight months. It was an easy job, with a pay scale that made my head spin. I loved it, but I still had a hard time believing what Jasper told me we did. The job offer had arrived out of nowhere. After a brief stint in the military, I had secured work at the port of Los Angeles, as a forklift driver. Most of my military career had been spent in warehousing. My skill and speed in military logistics and shipping

had translated well to civilian life. Nine months ago, I was walking to my truck at the end of the shift when I saw a mountainous man leaning against the tailgate. Smoke billowed from a cigar danging haphazardly from the corner of his mouth. We made eye contact, and he tossed a hand the size of a bear paw on the air to greet me. Ahoy!

The man bellowed. Your name Edgar Black? Who's asking? I responded curtly. The man bellowed laughter that filled the parking lot. I'm Barkus Jasper, and I work for shift logistics. A buddy of mine here works at the port and said you're an ace on a forklift. Prior military, too, I understand.

Also a plus, son. I'm pretty happy here, I replied. It would take a good pay increase to consider making a move. Jasper's lit a hand into his back pocket and pulled out a folded yellow envelope. He pushed it in my hands and swatted me on the shoulder, nearly sending me reeling forward. Take a look at that packet there, son, he said, and began to walk away. Tells you as much information as we can share for now. I'd do my homework and know that your finances aren't in great shape.

Got some creditors after you from what I understand. Could be the answer to your money woes. My number's on the last page. Call me if you're interested. I'm flying out tomorrow. I read the packet that night. Most of the job descriptions seemed straightforward and varied little from the standard load and unload duties

I had been working at the port of Los Angeles. My position there would be operating a forklift to unload and store shipments in the shift, logistics warehouse. While the first part had made sense, the contract became more strange as I continued. The warehouse was located on a 25-square-mile patch of land in an undisclosed state. A perimeter barrier had been constructed around the entire property, and I would be assigned patrol detail a few times each month to ensure the barrier was intact. Military experience was preferred, as firearms were required during the patrols. If the massive amount of

of land and patrol detail wasn't strange enough. Our delivery schedule sealed the deal. We only made one massive delivery each year. Shipments would arrive during the first 11 months. The remaining month before delivery would be spent preparing everything for the move and daily equipment inspections to ensure nothing malfunctioned. Strangest of all, the delivery would be made within the 25 square mile compound. A nondisclosure agreement was attached to the back.

While I had assumed the majority of the envelope contents would be a job description, the NDA took up the bulk. In it, I was informed that the location, nature of our work, contents of the warehouse, and nature of our clientele were to remain secret. At the end of the NDA, where I expected to see the financial penalties, I was shocked to see that any breach of contract was punishable by a lengthy term in federal prison. A bright yellow sticky note sat at the bottom of the page. Call if you're interested, kid.

$200,000 per year. The next morning, Jasper sat across the aisle for me on the private jet, quietly reading over stacks of papers. Sir, excuse me, I said. Could you tell me about the job? The description was vague, and I'm not sure why a private company would have an NDA that could result in federal prison time.

The old man placed the clipboard on the seat beside him. You want the real answer or a believable answer? He asked with a Cheshire grin. The real answer, please, I replied. Here goes nothing, he chortled. Shift logistics is a warehouse and protected property in Wyoming. Easy to get a lot of land out there. The campus is 25 square miles.

with a large perimeter barrier. We also own all the land for 20 miles in both directions. No fly zone overhead. Our work needs privacy, you see. I nodded. We spend most of the year receiving shipments of just about anything you can imagine. Food, clothing, medication, technical equipment, light weaponry, gasoline, and vehicles. Are we military?

I asked. We ain't public or private. Little of both. This is an organization that started in the 1960s, but the government is, well, a big supporter of their work. The whole setup is a little hard to wrap your head around. So what's the unbelievable part? Jasper smiled at me.

For one day a year, during a 12-hour period, an entire town will appear within the 25 square mile perimeter. During that period, you and the rest of the team will move a year's worth of goods into a warehouse within that town and depart. Every couple of years, some personnel selected by the government to stay in the town get dropped off too. After 12 hours, the town will disappear again. Bullshit, I said. A town appears and disappears. and we're what?

They're delivery men? Where does it go? And why do we take them these supplies? We take them the supplies because they pay us a pile of money to do it, he said firmly. We drop the supplies those folks need to live for a year, and we pick up a few smaller loads and return them to our warehouse. The government picks up what we take out of the town the next day, then transfers us another year of operating costs.

Then we spend 11 months prepping for the next drop. I peppered Jasper with dozens of questions for the remainder of the flight. But Marcus Jasper just shrugged his shoulders to all of them and returned to his clipboard. I don't ask questions, kid, he said indifferently. Shift logistics pays my bills and then some. Folks in the town are friendly, scientist types. Government don't hover over my shoulder. We get paid.

My mind swam and our plane continued on. Fat snowflakes drifted from the sky and melted on the windshield of the delivery truck as I sat waiting to make my first delivery. Wyoming was beautiful, but after so many years in California, a frigid winter seemed exceptionally brutal. The heat was blasting from the dash of the truck, but a chill had settled in my bones. I told myself it was the cold,

but I was terrified that Jasper was right. My truck sat outside of the warehouse bay doors, nose pointed into an empty field that stretched as far as my eyes could see. Floodlights from the building behind me blasted into the darkness, illuminating the snow-covered plains. If Jasper and the rest of the crew had been telling the truth, in less than five minutes, a small town would materialize in front of my eyes.

A young woman sat calmly in the passenger seat beside me. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back against the seat to feigned sleep. But I knew she was awake. Jasper had informed me that morning that she was a new resident of the mysterious town and would accompany me to the delivery site. I had introduced myself and tried to make small talk, but she was all business. She wore drab green military style fatigues and carried a double. duffel bag. A sleek handgun was fastened to her belt. Dozens of other men and women fitting the same

description were scattered throughout the delivery fleet, awaiting transport to their strange destination. We are given explicit instructions not to share any information with the contractors, she had said. Thank you for understanding. Lazzang sur-joled, puissance-mojohned for 15 minutes. We'd say that's their dojo. Prere to play? the pleasure with Leojo, the casino in-line that proposes the most recent machine-ass and show of casino in direct.

Profite of 50 tours gratuys on Big Bas Bonanza, without exigance of mis, and with the payment instantane. Hey, I've got gained. Woo-hoo! Sonture the pleasure! Play-Ojo!

18-and-plus, 1-Deepoce! 10-Rourts only depot, 50 tours-grat sues on the machine-ass-Begbaz-Bonanza. Depos minimum of $10. DeVos'clock. Beye-Jewed to make small talk was met with equally polite

but curt responses. nervous and continue trying to talk to her. In response, she pretended to go to sleep. The radio on my dash crackled to life. A series of high-pitched sirens blasted through. The young woman in the seat beside me bolted up and looked straight ahead. Good morning, ladies and gents, boomed a deep baritone boss. This is Marcus Jasper. The final countdown has now reached 30 seconds. Shipman 51 will commence. on my mark. If this is your first delivery, move quickly. Well, we've got a 12-hour window. Our goal is to complete delivery by the two-hour mark, followed by a two-hour pickup and

retrieval window for all outgoing containers and any disembarking personnel from the town. This will leave us with an eight-hour window for troubleshooting if anything goes Fubar. No one wants an unexpected ride to the other side. Brace for arrival. The other side? What that? What the hell was he talking about? Before I could wrap my mind around the strangeness of the message, yellow caution lights erupted from the warehouse behind us. My ears began to ring.

A few of the old metal fillings in my teeth began to rattle. The air pressure seemed to be compressing, and my breathing became labored and ragged. The young woman in the seat beside me didn't speak, but shot her hand across the cab of the truck and grasped mine. I squeezed hers in return. A quarter mile down the hill, a faint circle of light appeared. From this distance, it looked no larger than the diameter of a swimming pool. The ring of illumination began to pulse rapidly.

As the intensity grew, the circle began to expand as it became taller. Waves of light and intense vibrations filled the field. The entire complex was bathed in the glow from the massive anomaly that appeared before us. I could feel the truck beginning to rumble, and the ground below was quaked. The light became blinding. It was so strong it seemed to blast between the fingers of my hand as I held it in front of my face. I braced myself for an explosion or shockwave, but to my surprise, everything remained silent. The light faded, and the vehicle sat still.

Pulling the hand away from my eyes and letting the young woman's hand drop, I marveled as I gazed through the windshield of the cab. A massive platform covered the field at the bottom of the hill from the warehouse. Towering stadium lights blanketed, two colossal warehouses perched on the edge of the platform nearest to us. Beyond the huge metal buildings, I could see water towers, neat rows of tiny houses, and a few taller buildings that resembled lecture halls from a college campus. It's go time, ladies and gents. Jasper announced over the radio.

I will hail the control room at Warehouse 1 during the approach. Reassembled delivery formation at the base of the entry ramp. Once the ramp light turns green, enter and fall into your assigned drop order. Caravan forward. I hesitated as I watched the trucks beside me pull away. A loud wail from the truck behind me erupted and startled me into motion. My foot slammed down on the gas pedal, and the tires spun on the concrete before finding purchase and jolting us forward. Easy there, killer, the young woman said.

Get us there in one piece if you can, okay? I smiled. Well do, ma'am. My heart thundered as we arrived at the bottom of the ramp that led into the mysterious town. Now that we were at the bottom of the hill, I could see the top of the platform was nearly 40 feet off of the ground. I pulled the truck into formation and put it in park, staring in wonder. The radio remained silent. Two years of training, and I still can't believe I'm here, the woman said.

I wonder why the light is still red. I looked at the red light that was illuminated to the right of the ramp. The go light below sat black and deadened. During our prep discussions, Jasper had told the crew that the entry light usually lit up, before we even reached the ramp. I wasn't worried yet, but it had taken us five minutes to form up the delivery formation. Truck 27, this is Marcus Jasper.

The radio crackled without warning. Samantha Michaels, this is a truck-to-truck transmission. The rest of the fleet is cut from this loop. Do you copy? The young woman, who I now knew was Samantha Michaels, picked up the radio mic, and responded that she received the message. Ma'am, my hails are going unanswered. Jasper responded. I could hear worry in his voice.

I have performed the standard five hail series with no response. You're new here, I know. But I understand you are due to assume site management. As a courtesy, I'm asking permission to enact code blue. We've never failed to receive a response during any previous delivery. I looked at Samantha and saw her hand tremble as she clutched the mic. Understood, Mr. Jasper? She said in a shaking voice,

Our director has informed me of your military record. Permission granted. I request that you lead the operation. The new site personnel shall remain in their vehicles with your staff, but I will accompany you for point inspection. Pick your best man, sir. We don't know what will be in there. Understood and confirmed, ma'am.

Jasper replied. The steel had returned to his voice. After a few moments of dead air, Marcus Jasper's voice once again flooded from the radio. He called for the driver of 20 specifically numbered trucks, including mine. We were instructed to remove an M4 carbine rifle, Kevlar vest, and communication earpiece. A tent was being set up at the rear of the convoy, and a beacon light would be placed. All personnel summoned were to report within the next five minutes.

I collected my gear, and Samantha and I stepped onto the snow-covered ground. Behind the truck, we could see a bright beam of light piercing the sky from the rear of the convoy. As we walked, I strapped on my vest, inserted my earpiece, and began to examine my weapon to make sure everything was in functioning order. When we arrived, Marcus Jasper stood in the center of a cluster of 20 men. He tossed a Kevlar vest through the air to Samantha, who secured it on her torso. Another man stepped forward and handed her an earpiece and carbine. Jasper directed everyone to remain quiet and gave Samantha Michaels the floor.

Ladies and gentlemen, she said calmly, I am going to give you a brief amount of need-to-know information before we enter the site. This site was constructed decades ago by a group of scientists who hungered for a world free of war, famine, and political intrusion in their work. Some of the brightest minds of their day, they created a small community here named Mirage Station. To find a location untainted by the evils of this world, a group of physicists designed and produced technology

that allowed a small town to be removed from this reality and relocated to an alternative dimension where humanity either never existed or failed to thrive. There are no apex predators on the planet and sentient life has never been discovered. Flora and fauna discovered there are often similar to what we have here with varying evolutionary differences. My eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates.

An alternate universe? I wanted to think it was impossible, but this town had materialized in front of my eyes. Each year, Mirage Station shifts back to this reality for supply replenishment and to deliver research and technology efforts to our world. In return for their research and discoveries, the U.S. government funds their work.

Some of our most important advances in medicine and technology are developed on Mirage Station. For the last 50 years, the shipment exchange has gone off without a hitch, but we have failed to receive facility contact. Mr. Jasper has enacted a code blue response. This team will enter Mirage Station in an attempt to make contact with personnel. In the event we fail to make contact, we will use the remaining 11.5 hour window to investigate the cause of contact failure.

Mirage Station's dimensional displacement system, is self-piloting. In 12 hours, this town will shift back with or without us. We all nodded in agreement, and Jasper placed us in an entry formation. Nervously, the cluster of men and women marched forward behind the old man. Our boots studded against the metal ramp as we began our ascent into Mirage Station. An hour after entering Mirage Station, we hadn't seen a single soul. The receiving warehouse was clean, empty, and prepped to receive the supply delivery. Upon entering the export warehouse, we discovered all of the outgoing containers sealed and ready for our team to remove. After communication equipment checks in the control room of the loading area, we found everything

to be in working order. There were no signs of distress. That was until we began to perform a sweep of the houses nearest to the warehouses. The first dozen homes we entered, seemed to be perfectly intact. Each home had a comfortable living room, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. The furnishings in each were the same as the one before. Small keepsakes and photos on the wall provided the only variations. All of them were tidy. As we rounded the corner into the next row of houses,

our concerns mounted. While the first row of homes was as expected, the door of the second row was all caved in. white shards of wood were scattered into the living rooms of each home. Dozens of deep grooves were hewn into the wood by whatever had forced their way into the homes. I want four groups of five men and women. Three will enter the homes, and one crew will escort me and Miss Michaels to the central control office in the center of the station. Jasper said flatly.

Clear each house and search for signs of survivors or hostels. If it isn't human, call for backup and put a bullet in it. Any unusual activity should be reported to the rest of the crew immediately. Jasper divided us into teams before departing. One by one, we entered the houses on the second row. Each door has been ripped to shreds and showered into the living rooms. Long-dried blood and dehydrated flesh showered the walls. The same deep grooves from the entryway were randomly found throughout the houses.

The smell of rot and carry-on almost caused me to vomit with each home we entered. Each home was the same bloodbath with every new entry. Still, there remained no sign of either survivors or hostels. Whatever had done this may well have left the station after the attack. My team was about to enter our fifth house when the sound of gunfire erupted from across the street. Deffining waves filled the air as M4 carbines exploded into life. Screams and wails soon mingled with the gunfire as we began to exit a deserted bedroom to respond. My earpiece roared to life.

Hostels detected by Team 2. I repeat, hostels detected by Team 2. Everton and Bernstein are down. The subject is entering the street in row 2. Fire at will. Hostel is... The voice of my earpiece suddenly erupted in a shriek. Rasp and gurgles swallowed the horrific exclamations.

Growls, grunts, and the wet ripping of flesh filled all of our ears before a static-filled crunch left us all in definite silence. Team 3. Return to the front of the house and find a firing point through the windows. I directed. Use couches and tables as barriers. The five of us squatted low and moved to the large window on the front of the living room. Two of the crewmen at the rear overturned the couch and coffee table to provide coverage.

Slowly, I shuffled to the window, unlatched it, and pushed it open before propping my gun on the window cell. Scanning the barrel from side to side, there was no sign of the reported hostel. In the doorway directly across the street from our position, I could see a body dressed in Kevlar, still clutching its M4 across its chest. At first, I thought they were dead, but I was startled when they turned their head to meet my gaze. A shaking hand lifted in the air and reached out toward me. Before I could give the order to move to the occupied house, a massive white claw came from beyond the doorframe and sank itself into the crewman's chest.

Their arms spasmed as blood erupted from their mouth. The claw retracted and dragged the body out of sight. Screams again filled the air, followed by a triumphant roar that rattled my bones. What the hell was that? Boomed a voice through the yearpiece. Anyone got eyes on the hostel? I had a brief visual before it. I stammered.

There is a hostel on Road 2, Fifth House from the main road. All teams converge it. Wood and plaster exploded into the street before I could finish my sentence. Chunks of building material exploded into the street and peppered our house like shrapnel as an alabaster blur emerged from the wreckage. The thing rolled into the center of the street and came to a stop. A path of deep grooves trailed behind the thing in the road. Long, curved spikes protruded from the mass, forming a perfect sphere.

Razor-sharp spines twitched as they flexed in and out, giving the rolling ball of death the look of rippling water. Chittering and clinking noises filled the air around the abomination. Team one! Hostel is in the street! street, safety's often engaged. I heard a voice cry in my ear. From my cover at the base of the window, I could see a five-man team pour from a door, three houses further down the street. Cracks ripped through the air as they began to fire on the writhing mass of quills in the street. Bird-like shrieks pierced my eardrums as the thing began to cry out in pain.

Flex of orange blood fell like fat drops of rain. The team continued to fire into the mass, and all of the quills went rigid, protruding from the center. Four lines in the shape of an X began to separate as rows of quills fell back on. Peeling back like a pale flower, six sword-shaped legs unfurled and lifted the mass from the ground. In the center of the legs sat a circular maw of teeth with a thin, gray tongue hanging lazily out. Moving like a blur, the creature scuttled forward toward the firing squad and launched its two front legs through the chests of the men in the front. It roared with rage and it tossed the dead men to the side like crumpled paper.

One woman from the team stood her ground and fired at the thing as the others ran for cover. The previously lazy tongue launched toward the woman's arm and wrapped around the gun. It began to retract into the maw, dragging her screaming across the concrete. As the tongue dragged her carbine and arms into the mouth, she continued to fire and gave a fierce battle cry. As her torso entered the maw, it closed like a slough. steel trap, dropping her legs to the concrete below. A door slammed as the last remaining members of Team One took refuge inside an intact house at the end of the row. Dropping onto its belly, the creature's legs retracted and the four flaps folded closed. Again a perfect sphere.

The creature began to roll like a hellish wrecking ball toward the house and burst through the wall. Jasper and Michaels, I whispered into my earpiece. We have made contact with the hostel. It is an unknown predatory species. Team 1 and 2 are both KIA. The engagement has barely wounded the thing. Static crackled in my earpiece, and I tried to make out the broken and muffled response. Jasper and Michaels, come in, damn it.

I huffed. Team 1 and 2 are down. Requesting backup. More static until finally, a soft voice broke through. Remaining troops to Central Control Office. Everyone. Blood Bath. Repeat.

All remaining... We've got to head to the... central office, I said to the others in my team. Michaels is calling for us. Let's head out. On the way to the central control office, we tried again to reach out to Jasper and Michaels, but received no response. Fear for their safety increased the closer we got to our destination. As we got closer, we found the mangled bodies of Team 4, but no signs of Jasper or Michaels. It took us more than seven hours to travel from the rows of ravaged houses to the central control building.

The distance wasn't great, maybe a mile and a half. But the creature trailed behind us, and we would have to hide frequently. We would hunker behind overturned furniture and ruptured building fronts as the pale creature rolled and scuttled in the streets outside. When it would leave to search another nearby building, we would make it another hundred feet down the road before we would have to hide again. The progress was tedious, but after hours of travel and hiding, we finally made it. Central control was a circular building in the center of Mirage station.

Thick concrete walls climbed high above any other structure besides the water tower spread throughout the platform. Windows and doors appeared to be made of reinforced steel. It almost reminded me of a fallout shelter. At first, I was puzzled that the hideous beast hadn't managed to make it through the walls of central control, but I soon discovered why. As we walked the perimeter of the building looking for a point, of entry, deep grooves had been scored into the concrete.

A few inches in, pieces of metal rebar were exposed, mangled but unbroken. The thing had tried to make its way inside and failed. If we could get inside, we might be safe for a short while. After tracing the perimeter of the entire building and finding no way, we entered a one-story brick building across the street to find cover. We hailed for Jasper or Michaels on our earpieces again, but still received no response. received no response. Sounds of flying debris and roars of anger echoed through the empty streets from a short distance away. It was still looking for us, and time was running out before

Mirage Station would return to that thing's home. We've got to head back, a man behind me said. Perkins was his last name, but I didn't know him well. Jasper and Michaels are either dead or out of reach. We need to go. The three others quietly murmured in agreement. My blood boiled at the cowardice. How could they abandon anyone without knowing their fate? We don't know if Jasper and Michaels are dead, I spat. And what if that monster follows us to the warehouse? And I stopped talking abruptly as the squeal of metal on metal filled our ears. The sound of heavy machinery wind from the direction of central command.

We peered over the window ledge and watched as one of the doors lifted. Jasper stood inside. Get the hell in here! He shouted. We scurried across the open street and into the doorway before Jasper. or hit a button to shut the door. Glad you all made it. Looks like we've got a hell of a problem here.

The old man gestured to the room behind us. Mummified corpses blanketed the floor. Thick dust floated in the air as the light drifted through cracks in the metal window covers. I gagged after realizing I was breathing in lungs full of dry human skin. Looks like most of the population that wasn't killed by the Alpha died of starvation here.

He couldn't get inside, but they couldn't get out for food. The Alpha? Perkins question. The Alpha is the quilt fiend that has been chasing you, a voice said behind us. We turned to see Michaels enter the corpse-filled lobby. Jasper and I tried to find a way to stop the next shift, but with the station personnel dead, we do not know how. In the meantime, we've been listening to research logs left by the staff here before their death.

Michaels told us of the little they learned from the research logs. For three decades, Mirage Station had been self. and none of the staff had ventured farther than a mile into the wilderness around it. The community continued its scientific studies and technology development. In the 1990s, biologists and botanists joined research teams. They started traveling farther from Mirage Station to study the flora and fauna of the alternate world. Dozens of new medicines were discovered. Unrecognizable herbivores populated the forests and plains, but predators were absent. In 20, In 2019, a geologist joined the crew and brought a drilling system to begin running mineral

composition tests of the new world. Many in the community protested, but the leadership dismissed their concerns and allowed drilling to begin. Underground research continued for two years until the geology team uncovered a massive web of caves 30 miles from Mirage Station. After a few days of exploration, the team stopped transmitting. A rescue team was sent and failed to report back. Three days after the original return date, a rescue vehicle arrived.

Only one of the original five sent to rescue the other team returned. The alphas, named after the term alpha predator, were in pursuit of the vehicle. A colony of the creatures had killed the geological survey team and most of the rescue party. Seven of the creatures soon overtook Mirage Station. After killing most of the population, the survivors in central control used the CCTV system to scan the station. Six of the seven alphas departed and returned to their caves while one remained, almost as though to stand watch.

Is there any information on how to kill them? I asked. No. Jasper responded. Seems all the folks here died of starvation before a reasonable escape plan got put together. Then how the hell are we going to escape? Asked Perkins. We're going to let this thing in and trap it here. Jasper replied.

If it couldn't get in, it won't be able to get out. Jasper and Michaels wasted no time as they told us the plan. We prepared to bait the Alpha into central control and seal it inside. Michaels opened a bay door at the front of the building and a single person door at the back. Jasper had already gone to the main control room on the second level. He would set a timed explosive on the dimensional displacement computer, so Mirage Station would phase back to our world after it returned. He would also close the doors on our signal to trap the Alpha.

The remains of our crew stood outside the bay doors and began firing our weapons in the air to draw in the beast. A roar sounded close by, and we could already hear the things clawed feet grinding into the pavement. We continued firing until the quilled monstrosity rounded a crumbling building and began to move in our direction. We ran into the building, the Alpha in pursuit, and dashed for the back door. The Alpha was close behind us when we heard the bay door begin to grind closed.

Someone behind us screamed, and we heard a thud and the sound of a carbine clatter to the ground. I turned my head over my shoulder to see Perkins sprawled on the floor. The white mass of quills and teeth fell on it before I could think to stop. I turned and saw Michaels, standing outside the open door waving us through. Go, go, come on! She shouted as we hammered through the opening. As soon as the last man's boot hit the ground outside, the heavy steel door began to close.

We returned to see the alpha bounding towards us, roaring and fury. As the door rolled closer to the ground, a white leg shot through the gap and scraped the thick steel. The door came down on the leg, and the hydraulics wind as it tried to press down on the beast's leg. Door won't close all the way, Jasper said through our earpiece,

You all got a haul ass now. How'd you get the comms working? I asked. Walls are too sick to get a signal out, but I pushed open one of the metal shutters. Looks like it worked, he said. Meet us at the front window and shimmy down the storm drain. Michael said in response, we'll wait for you to come down and haul ass together.

No can do, he stated. Told a little lie. I've got no bomb and no detonator. Once this thing makes it to the other side, I'm going to destroy the drive. Get the hell out of here. Ain't much time left. That wasn't the deal.

Michael screamed. We leave together. No time to argue, my friends. He said with a sad juggle. I'm shutting that window shutter and waiting for this one-way trip. If you stay here, you're going to die. Go. With that, Jasper was gone.

The five of us ran like hell was on our heels until we reached the ramp. I directed the convoy to return to the warehouse and keep a safe distance. By the time the trucks reached safety, we had just enough time to turn around and watch as the white halo of light surrounded Mirage Station and vanished just as quickly. It's been six years since Mirage Station vanished for the last time. Shift Logistics Warehouse is still here, but it sits empty of supplies. A skeleton crew of staff remains, including me and Michaels. The government pays us to keep watch over the site and report any anomalies.

I don't even bother trying to live off-site anymore. The memory of what waits through the thin sheet of our reality still haunts me. A twin bed in the upstairs office lets me get some sleep at night. Mostly, I just sit outside the bay doors on the loading dock facing the open field. Some nights, I think I see a faint flicker of light out in the darkness. Maybe it's Jasper. I wish it was. But it's probably something else.

I'll wait.