Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - You'll never believe what's happening at Denver International Airport

Episode Date: January 17, 2022

🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc Author: Author: Alan Wilson Check out his Reddit page here: https://www.reddit.com/r/PostMortem33/ 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep ✅ Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] 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

I work for a tabloid, and the next big headline will make everyone's brain explode. My boss stormed inside my office, all sweaty and almost out of breath. He panted, his face red and puffy, as if he had just run the world's longest marathon. He handed me a note and a set of files marked classified. What are these? And why are you so worked up? Easy there, boss, where you'll have a goddamn heart attack, I told the overweight man. Stop patronizing me like that, son.

You know I'm getting old. I have information from a reputable source that bad things happen at the Denver International Airport. Take a look at the note and inside those files, he said, pointing at the documents. On the note, Secret Society Cult Gatherings was written and read ink. I opened the files and looked inside. There were multiple black and white, shady, bad-quality photos

of several people wearing hooded clothes. They all carried a candle in one hand and a knife in the other. They had wrapped their faces in rags. They looked like mummies with only their dark and evil eyes showing through the cracks. Yeah, this is fake, Nate. I know it, and you know it. I told the man and rolled my eyes. He has been like this all his life, always chasing the big news, always wanting to expose some dark occult secrets. He had excellent insiders here and there that brought him news,

that allowed him to keep the business afloat. However, he'd never got the juicy story he dreamed of. He loved his job. He'd loved chasing these faces in the clouds. That's what he said when I first started working here. Johnny boy, these big headlines are just like faces in the clouds. One moment they are here, the next they are gone. Now he was getting old, but only physically.

Mentally, he was as sharp as the deadliest sword in the world. He's never been late for work, and he was the last one to turn off the lights. That's why I have respected him so much since joining the paper. His work ethic has been out of this world. He has been the most dedicated man I have ever seen in this job. John, this is 100% accurate. I'm telling you my source is as reliable as a German car. I have different people all over the country in my pocket, and this guy is one of them.

He said, his eyes lighting up like a bonfire on a chill autumn night. Let me guess, Nate. I have to go and see what this is all about, I asked reluctantly. Yes, indeed. I already got you a fake ID and work badge. From tomorrow evening, you are officially working as a janitor there. Keep a low profile and gather as much evidence on these pricks as you can. Remember to be careful. We don't know who these people are, how powerful,

and rich they are, or how crazy for that matter. Seriously, Nate, new year's around the fucking corner, and you're having me chasing rainbows in this cold winter? I said, overly irritated. This is not up for discussion, Johnny. You're my best employee, and I think this will get you the spotlight you so much deserve. After all, there has to be someone in charge here after I'm gone.

And who that someone can be other than you? He said, excited. Lowering the chin to my chest, I sighed, but I couldn't say no. After all, he was like a fatherly figure in my life. I cared so much for him. And after seeing how thrilled he was with his finding, I had no other option than to go. The sooner I had this dealt with, the faster I could return to my life. All right, I'll go.

But know this. I'm only doing it for you. It's a rookie job, and you could have sent anyone else to. Nate, I replied. Yeah, yeah, I know, but you're the one I trust most in this situation. I've booked your flight for 7 a.m. tomorrow, he said, and patted me on both shoulders. You'll meet with a contact of mine there so you can get everything sorted out. I rolled my eyes, wished him a good night, and headed home. I wasn't annoyed with the situation. It was just that I didn't have the energy to do it at this time of the year. We all have our mood swings.

and I have been feeling pretty down the past few months. The next day, I arrived after a turbulent flight that gave me a dizzy spell and a headache. A man was waiting for me at the airport. He had a piece of cardboard with my name on it. He motioned me to follow him outside in the parking lot. He had a car there, and we hopped in. On the way of the motel,

he told me that he had never been so afraid in his entire life. The first time he found out about the cult, as he called it, His superiors instructed him not to interfere, so we tried asking questions, but the answers were above his pay grade. One night, he saw them again while doing the usual security routine check. Finally, he was inspired to take a few quick photos and a video. The video in question showed the same people dressed for a ritual ceremony, gathered around in a circle. First, they chanted in a language I did not know, and frantically raised their candles up and down in the air. Then they started dancing. Here's the crazy part, the man told me, pointing at the screen.

The circle then broke, revealing a man with his hands tied behind his back. He had a piece of black duct tape glued over his mouth. He tried pleading with them, but his muffled screams fell on deaf ears. One of the hooded figures took the knife and carved a horizontal line across the man's forehead. Blood made its way through the slit and started going down. They got him up, and took him away. Holy shit, this is bad, I said. Sorry, man, but this is police work. I can't get involved in this shit.

Why didn't you send the video to Nate? It was too risky. I think they are on to me. They probably bugged my phone, too. The fact of the matter is that the man in question was found dead under a bridge the following morning. All his skin was missing, and his body had been drained of blood. I think the cops are in it too. I think they are protecting whoever runs this freak show.

Damn. This is serious business, I said, rubbing my chin nervously. My boss looked at me like he knew what was going on. Man, like he was trying to cover this shit up. By the way, I'm Jackson. The man said, extending a shivering hand. John, I said, a sense of dread and fear taking over me. We shook hands.

There were a million thoughts that ran through my mind. I heard all the stories about this place, all the conspiracies that shrouded it in mystery and insanity. But I never thought about a cult roaming around its spaces. More so, I never thought about getting caught in a situation of such magnitude. Of course, I could have taken the existing evidence and uploaded it online for everyone to see. But it was too late for that now. After all, Nate didn't know about the video yet, and it was best for him that way. Another thing I noticed, after seeing them cultists the first time,

my boss told me to do a perimeter sweep on the other side of the building. I think they have a secret meeting room. One more thing. I have never seen them coming in or getting out. Jackson said, wiping sweat off his temple. What are you trying to say? That they live there? How could they?

I asked, reluctantly. Or they could have a secret way in and out, Jackson replied. The air in the room was damp. It smelled like dead things with their insides decaying to rot. Maybe there was a dead mouse under my bed. I didn't want to look. I opened the windows to the room and let the cool winter breeze come in. The wind's chilly embrace felt refreshing,

and for a few seconds, it made all the bad things go away. Shit, Jackson, this is bad, I said, tapping my finger on the window frame. Yeah, it is. Sorry to have dragged you into this. Nate was the only person I could trust with this info. He said, sighing, let's just hope we won't get killed, I replied, unease coursing through my veins.

I'll be right back. Let me bring you some things from the car, he said. I watched him leave, and it made me wonder if this was it. I was getting into something bigger than myself, something that I shouldn't even know in the first place. yet it was my job to find out the truth and that's what i was going to do jackson came back into the room with a dark green duffel bag he threw it on the floor and rubbed his hands cold outside i asked you betcha that's for you it's your uniform id and work badge he said pointing to it i reached inside

and grabbed a badge made out of plastic and inspected it joe collins I said, raising an eyebrow. I like that, although if I look in the mirror, I'm not sure I look like one. Well, how was Joe Collins supposed to look like? I shrugged. Before leaving, Jackson told me to be there at 10 p.m. Sharp. He would be on duty and show me around the premises. I nodded and thanked him.

Then he left the room, and I was left alone with all these dark thoughts that had been accumulner. after seeing the horrific video footage. Finally, I fell into a deep slumber and woke up at about 8.30 p.m. I took a quick shower, called a cab, and off I went. Upon arrival, I had a routine checkup done with Jackson. Then he started showing me around the place. After we arrived at a safe spot, we stopped for a short time. There's a cart with a bucket and a mop, and everything you need at the end of the hallway.

That's where our road split, John. Best of luck, man, he said, tapping my shoulder. He then turned and left. I went and took the tools and started mopping the floor while carefully observing the surroundings. After arriving in the toilet area, I heard a noise somewhere behind me. I couldn't tell where it was coming from,

but it was getting closer. Footsteps and voices echoed throughout the halls of the building. I went inside and began to be a little. cleaning the mirrors and scrubbing the sink. Again, the footsteps and voices grew louder. I knew it was those degenerates, those goddamn killers, the cult of psychopaths. Holding my breath, I prayed they would pass right by me. And they did. All except one of them. I'll get up on you. Let me wash my hands quickly, he shouted. I grabbed them up and started wiping the floor. I had one eye on the floor and the other on the end.

entrance door. Good evening, I said. Don't talk to me, you fucking worthless piece of shit, or I'll gut you like a pig. Who the hell are you anyway? You knew here? He snarled. I didn't say anything. Instead, I looked at the man's hands, and I shuddered. They were not regular human hands. They had long black nails, and the skin was gray with a touch of sickly yellow to it, like it had a disease or something. I felt bile rising in the back of the my throat, its bitterness burning the inside walls and wanting to come out in waves. The creature jumped on me, and I felt its hands trying to choke me. It had wrapped its face in rags, and I landed a punch right in its right temple.

It momentarily lost balance. Then I took the mock and hit it in the head several times. It was almost unconscious. I lifted it and banged its head against the wall repeatedly until I couldn't feel my arms anymore. I dropped the creature on the floor. It was breathless. I had killed it.

I desperately wanted to remove the bandages from its face, but before managing to do it, the creature disintegrated right before my eyes. It turned to dust, and all that was left were the bandages and the hooded cloak. I put the cloak on and wrapped my face with the bandages without even thinking about it. I realized my camera had been off the entire time. I cursed myself for not getting the creature on video. I turned the camera on and placed the camera in one of the buttonholes at the base of the neck. Then, I went outside and saw the group moving forward.

What the hell took you so long? Are you one of those freaks who washes their hands for an hour straight? Come on, there is a ceremony to attend. And guess what? This one is going to be real fun, he said, with overlapping voices. I trembled with fear because I knew I was in deep shit. Sorry, you know I hate cold water. That's why it took me so long, I replied, trying to make up a stupid excuse and mimic that thing's voice.

It's okay. Oh, we're here. Grab a knife into candle, brother, and let the fun begin, he said, excited. In front of me, there was a small wooden table. It looked ancient. On it, there were old daggers and knives and black candles. I took one of each. When I lifted my eyes, I saw a double door. The cultists had painted. It was black and on top of it there was a goat skull right on the center. Blood dripped from it and the eyes were stuck with horror. I think it was still fresh. Then I entered a room with black doors. I was in a dark room where pale candlelight flickered on the walls, yet in that ominous

darkness I sensed something was watching, waiting, following every move I made, every breath I took, incessantly. The silence made the whole situation more frightening than it already was, maybe tenfold. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into. Yet, I had to deliver a good story. My heart kept beating faster. Panic settled in. Fear crawled up inside my heart, and it spread to every bone in my body. I don't think I fully comprehended what had just happened moments earlier. Those hands with scales and claws and dirty, pointy nails still made me shiver. They say that we do not know our full potential strength until we are put face to face with imminent danger, or until we stare death in its ugly and eternal face.

Are you all right? You don't seem quite yourself tonight, the man said. I glanced at his hands. They looked human, with one exception that made me nauseous. The skin had a strange. orange hue to it, sickly, pale, and cancerous. The fingers resembled those of a person who smokes three packs of cigarettes per day and has breathing problems. His face rags were dirty, and they too had a strange metallic orange radiance to them. I wondered what his face looked like

underneath that filthy cloth. Was he just a man, or something pretending to be one? I was still angry that I didn't catch the first creature on the hidden camera. It was a rookie mistake that I had never made in my entire life. But I couldn't dwell on that, because I felt like that was just the tiny drop in this vast ocean of insanity that I was sinking in. And to be frank, this was a situation I never thought of finding myself in. I didn't even believe in monsters or the supernatural.

But now, I knew that there were things out there beyond my comprehension. I'm fine, I replied bitterly. Want a cigarette? He asked me nervously. So indeed, he was a smoker. It was pretty evident from the start. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and handed me one with trembling hands. No thanks. I hate those, I said boldly.

What? Yesterday you were smoking these like a fucking chimney on a cold winter day, he said, raising his voice. What the fuck? You want to turn into a saint all of a sudden? shit, I thought. Well, yeah, I gotta stay focused on the job we're doing here. I want to cut them off one by one, these addictions. Started this morning with cigarettes, and drinking is next.

Got to stay fit, I told him. Trying to convince myself too in the process that I had these problems. Suit yourself. I ain't quitting any time soon. They can't kill me anyway, so I can smoke how many the fuck I want in a day. Three packs, seven packs, were a gazillion. It doesn't change anything. You know how it is for people like us, he said, making quotation marks in the air. The emphasis on the word people made me cringe, the way he said it, the superiority in his voice.

Like humankind was some sort of disease, a parasite, made me even more afraid for my life. Top that with the fact I didn't know what I had gotten myself into. And it made a perfect cocktail for a heart attack. a cocktail which I had to drink if I wanted to expose this crazy cult's shenanigans, even if it was with the risk of losing my life. There was no turning back now. The road led only forward. The darkened room suddenly came to life. Then I heard a switch click, and bright lights pushed the darkness into oblivion.

The men with hooded cloaks and faces covered in rags all looked at me and the guy I was talking to. Now we can begin! one of them said. I assumed he was the leader of the crazy cult. I saw them forming a circle, and the leader started chanting words in a language I had never heard before. I joined in. We were all standing with our heads bowed and hands together, fingers interlocked, as if praying to old, demented gods. I raised my head a little just to study the surroundings. On each side of the room, there was a set of old mahogany chairs, one for each of the twelve members. six on the left, and six on the right.

They faced the center of the room. It made me think of an execution room. Then the chanting had finished. The silence overtook the room again. It was heavy and rotten, pushing me closer to the edge of an abyss filled with despair and dread. Then the silence was shattered again

as the wall of bricks in front of me started shifting. A totem, statue-like figure emerged from behind the wall. It was a goat holding an inverted cross, in one hand and a human skull on the other one. The beast had eyes like two dark red rubies. They had liquid inside them. The monstrosity was made of metal and coated with black paint. My knees felt weak, like two rubber balls filled with water. I felt my mind fracturing, cracking slowly like glass shattering against concrete. At the base of the statue, a rectangular basin stood firm. It looked like it had been placed there after the statue had been built.

Let us rejoice in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Unholy Spirit, the leader of the group said, Everyone, take your seats and place the candles at your feet. Light them for our glorious eternal father. He stood there in front of the statue while the rest of us took our seats. The first person in the row lit up their candle and passed the flame to the end. After everyone finished this part of the ritual, the master dimmed the lights again. The beast's eyes became more lively.

The beast itself was emanating an evil so great that it filled the air with its wretched stench. In the far right corner of the room, there was a bucket. I missed it before when I looked around, probably because of the fear and panic. The leader went in its direction. It looked heavy, and it was filled with light. liquid. Everyone started tapping the floor with their feet. I did the same. Then they all started clapping when the leader stood in front of the statue. Drink, drink, drink, drink. They all chanted like a doomsday choir. From under the hood, the leader produced a chalice. The chalice was golden

and adorned with ghastly figures and demons. The leader took it and submerged it in the bucket, filling it with liquid. He took a sip and smacked his lips as if the drink inside had just revealed the darkest secret in the world. I could see his eyes between those rags. This mummy was very much alive and filled with excitement with a desire to hurt and kill. He was hungry, eager to exterminate, to wipe out the innocent from this plane of existence. He came closer to my row and handed the chalice to the first psycho. He took a sip and smacked his lips in a similar fashion, then passed it on until it reached me.

I didn't know what kind of drink it was, and I sure as hell didn't want to drink that stuff. When my turn came, I glanced at what was inside the chalice. The thick, dense liquid danced in there like a restless sea on a stormy night. Its small waves hit the sides of the cup, and when I saw what color the liquid was, my heart stopped for a few seconds. When coming face to face with this realization, I wanted to scream, but knew I couldn't because my life depended on it. I looked around the room, and everyone fixated on me, waiting to take a sip. Their dead eyes saw nothing but the chalice. They were like vampires closer to getting their fix, otherwise they would go into withdrawal.

I raised the glass and drew it to my lips. I tilted it slightly to mimic the drinking, but the liquid didn't even touch my lips. I wouldn't be part of this insanity any more than I already was. I smacked my lips just like the others. I was downright disgusted and even more afraid than I was before. I was not sure where this whole mess would lead me. The ritual continued until everyone took a sip. Yet, I felt watched.

The cigarette guy I came with was constantly staring at me like he thought something was wrong. Everyone clapped again all at once, meaning the ritual had been success. The cult leader took the bucket with the remaining blood and poured it into the basin at the statue's base. It stood there for a minute or two. Then it began draining into the unknown. A metallic hum filled the room suddenly, and the statue shook and trembled. Its eyes flickered, different red shades pulsating from sending angry signals to forgotten deities. The hum intensified, and the room began moving while the beast's head began rotating faster in a circle.

circle. Then it stopped. One of you did not drink. Why? A voice said. It sounded like it came from inside the statue. At that point, fear paralyzed me, and I wanted to believe that it was a mere gimmick, and the voice was a recording meant to scare me or make me confess. But the voice felt cold and evil all at once. It sounded like a chainsaw that wanted to speak. A cacophony of voices pitched and low all at once pierced through my mind and heart, wanting to tear apart my sanity. The man that led me to this place looked at me in anger. I knew something was off with you. Before he could finish, I stood up.

He is an imposter. I saw him. He acted all weird since yesterday evening. I think he may be a mole or someone who's trying to breach our special meetings. I growled, pointing at the guy. The head of the statue turned to see the man. Its eyes gleamed and flashed on and off like a light bulb does when there's a demonic possession in the house. Him, the voice said again.

It sounded like it was underwater, drowning, and trying to speak this time. Bring him to me! All the other psychopaths followed the statue's order. No exception, myself included. The man started shouting and screaming while we cornered it. You don't deserve this, traitor, the leader said. Disgusted with what the man had supposedly. done. He took off the cloak from him, leaving him naked, his face covered in rags. He had little bony horns

protruding from his skin all over his body. Only his hands looked human. Where his lungs were, he had gills, and between the fingers of his feet, he had a thick hollow membrane. The leader took his rags off. I was struck with a deep-seathing terror when I saw his face was that of a humanoid amphibian. He blinked vertically, and he didn't have a nose. Just two small holes. I set him up well. One less psycho in the world that nobody's ever going to miss. He tried pleading with the leader,

telling him that he was nothing but a faithful soldier to the cause. No one ever listened to him, not after the statue had spoken. The leader made him kneel before the statue, took the knife and cut its throat. Blood poured like an angry river in the basin. The statue's eyes flickered no more. In your name, father.

The leader said, pushing the amphibian's body aside. The room fell silent again. It was a silence that screamed the word impossible in my mind. Well done. The leader said, patting my shoulder. Now, let's move to the last part of the ceremony. Lazzang surgellied, puissance-moyance-moyne for 15 minutes.

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I was neck deep in it now. And there was no turning back. I had to do was lay low, act like I was one of them, and make it back home with the video footage intact. The statue had gone back inside the wall. Let us proceed to the final part of the ritual. Well done, brothers, well done, the leader said. His voice still raspy from the situation that had occurred earlier. He positioned himself right in the spot where the statue had emerged a few moments before. The walls opened again, and it was not the statue revealed, but it opened to a completely different room.

We all passed through it and moved inside. Madness, I thought. The room was built almost the same as the previous one. There were a few features that made it different, though. Well, different would be an understatement. The walls were all covered in burning candles. The flames weren't like anything I had seen before. They burned a purple-reddish glow and danced hypnotically.

right before my eyes, pulling me under their spell, enchanting me to watch as they moved to and fro, as they swayed and burned the frayed ends of my sanity. In the center of the room, there was a massive giant pit on the floor. Winds howled hungrily from down under, and at times I thought of them to be the screams and cries of the restless dead that never made it up above but rested down below. A man's skin, so precisely cut, was placed on a plastic mannequin. Its grotesque appearance made my heart shake and drum against my ribcage, as if it wanted to escape this madness that seemed never ending. I think our master was pleased with the sacrifice granted

that he provided us with access to the room of wonders. Of course, some of you are human. Some of you are pretending to be human. but I trust that all of us, together, will keep this magnificent cult of ours going strong for many years to come, the leader said, wiping his knife on the black robe. The leader instructed one of the cultists to take the skin off the mannequin and place it flat on the ground before the pit.

The cultists knelt on its edge while the leader cut the palm of his hand with the knife. Droplets of blood fell in the darkness of the pit. Then, the leader started repeating strange words. I thought it to be the same language he used in the first room. I did the same and waited. Frightened to see what would happen. Come forth our master, our eternal father of the flames. Guide us with your infinite knowledge and bestow us with your blessings for another fruitful year.

Allow us to serve for now and forever. He shouted as more blood fell in the darkness of the pit. The room started trembling, and I was sure something similar would happen like in the first room. Almost the same metallic hum as in the previous room began ringing from the pit's hellish depths. Except this one had something fleshy to it. It sounded like someone was trying to speak, but couldn't do it properly. It sounded like a voice made from squishing meat with bare hands. Everyone kept their heads down, but I did not.

Well, not entirely. I saw bones flying from the pit and scattering through the room of torment. Then something kept galloping its way up, the sound of hooves. I kept looking closely at the pit. My mind was slowly deteriorating, and my soul was poisoned with every vile, disgusting, and evil thing that I had seen in this place. Bile rose in my throat, a burning sensation taking hold of its walls. I felt afraid, as I had never felt afraid.

as I had never felt before in my entire life. The realization that something of great magnitude was about to happen shattered my mind into a million tiny pieces. They scattered around on the wet and cold floor of my mind. Dejected, scared, and appalled by what I had gotten myself into. I decided to shift my body so that the camera would catch whatever was about to show through that pit. Then, an enormous figure emerged from the pit.

like lava from a volcano. The figure landed on its hooves and caused a loud metallic rigging in the room. Everyone covered their ears until it stopped. The goat had come alive. That's the best way I could describe it. It was the real-life version of the statue that I had seen in the first room. All in all, I stood aghast when I saw smoke coming out of its charred fleshy gray horns. The beast was foaming at the mouth as he brewed. breathed. It stank, its wretched haze filling the room with the aroma of dead rotting meat. His eyes were the same ruby sparkling red, and he scanned the room as if looking for its well-deserved sacrifice. All the cultists raised their hands in the air and hummed a monotonous yet sinister chant.

I caught the rhythm and joined in too. Our eternal dark lord, welcome to our decaying world. Thank you. Thank you for bestowing upon us the honor of seeing you one more time, the leader exclaimed and repeatedly bowed to the beast's hooves. In the blink of an eye, the beast raised one of its hairy legs and crushed the leader's skull with an enormous force. Bits of brains and bone exploded everywhere, and the walls were now painted like a gruesome, macabre piece of art. He then took the rest of the body and threw it in the pit. His hands had three dark chromium claws, and with the wall. And with the wall, he then took the rest of the body, He took the skin off the ground and laid it on one of the cultists' backs.

You are the leader now. Do not disappoint me ever again, he said, carving a strange symbol on the dead skin. The chant began again, and the dead skin caught on fire. Thank you, Father. All hail! We all chanted in a choir. The beast jumped back in the pit, and it closed right after. My heart was pounding, and I was shocked by everything that had just happened. Everyone started cheering and clapping for the new leader as if nothing had happened.

They acted like mindless sheep, serving an evil god from the depths of hell. After the charade ended, we returned to the first room, where we sat on our chairs. Then it all ended. Everyone said their goodbyes, swore that they would see each other next year. I stopped at the bathroom, removed. the cloak, folded it, and decided to take it with me as some sort of evidence. Jackson was waiting for me. Damn, you look like shit. What happened? You're not going to fucking believe it even if I show you this shit, said in return. The following day, I flew back home. I took a quick shower and headed

straight back to the office to show the footage to Nate. We never said a word to each other for the entirety of the video. You're not joking, right? So you didn't screw me on this one? And just sat at home editing this into this movie to make it look real, did you? Nate asked. His face all white. No, Nate, you sent me literally in the mouth of hell. I replied bitterly. Jesus Christ Almighty, he said, chewing one of his nails. I'll take this home with me tonight and tomorrow. We'll post it online. It will spread like a fucking wildfire. he said, wiping his eyes and sighed. Yeah, Nate, listen.

I need to rest. Can I take the rest of the day off? It's been crazy these past few days, I asked him. Images from that night constantly revolved in my head. Absolutely you get. He said. I slept until my alarm woke me up the next day. When I went to the office, I expected Nate to be there.

Except he wasn't. It was the first time since I've been working there that I saw him running late. It had me worried from the start. I waited and I waited. Yet Nate never came to the office. I tried calling him, but it went straight to voicemail. What if they got to Nate? What if he had been killed?

What if Nate was one of them? What if he took the evidence and ran away? My mind was racing with all these scenarios. I didn't know what to do, and I fled too. I'm hiding right now, and I hope they never find me and drag me back to that awful place.