The SCP Experience - Cold-Blooded Invasion | SCP-1108

Episode Date: October 21, 2022

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-1108: Cold-Blooded Invasion This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1108, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com New Book Releases: https://www.amazon.com/Matthew-G-Doggett/e/B08FD5378Z DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The street is covered. I can no longer see the asphalt. In fact, I can't even see my own lawn. Just an undulating mass of scaled bodies jockeying for position. The creatures move low to the ground. Their teeth gleaming in the growing morning light. Several of them fight over a meal that was once my neighbor. I stay glued to the window,

looking out at the insane phenomenon that I predicted. Only that's not really true. I couldn't have imagined this. I never could have guessed that it would be so bad. There's a loud thump, followed quickly by a crunch. Suddenly, the danger I'm in registers again, and I look toward the hall. Help! A weak male voice calls from my hallway.

I step that way, fearing the worst. It's happening, I say into the phone. My voice tight with excitement. Look out your window to the west. You can see it there. It's coming this way. The response is a sigh and a t-sk sound. I know I woke Gerald up with the call, but it's a minor concern.

He'll see that I'm right soon enough. I hear him clear his throat. Then there's a sense. sound like shutters being drawn up. I wait, looking out my window and into the sky. Do you see it? I ask after a moment. I see clouds, Gerald says.

His voice husky with sleep. Exactly. It's in the clouds. Don't you see it? While I wait for his answer, I think about where his house is in relation to mine. He lives about 10 minutes away by car in an adjacent Sarasota neighborhood. He should still be able to see. see it from there. Maybe I do, he says, sounding more awake now. It's moving east, just like last time, I say.

They'll be coming soon, very soon. You should get over here. I'm closer to the water. I bet we'll see him. There's a long pause before Gerald answers. He says, I don't like his tone. What's the condition? If nothing comes of this, he says.

They'll be here, I say. Believe me, I know it. You should know it too. I showed you the pictures after all. From last time? Dennis, Gerald says. Just tell me you agree. Say the words, and I'll get dressed and come.

I clench my jaw and run a hand through my hair. I thought we were past this. If nothing comes of this, you won't hear about it again from me. I tell him. I resent having to say the words. Even if I know I'll soon be proven right. Gerald says, then hangs up. I put the phone in the pocket of my shorts and then step outside into my fenced-off backyard.

The sky is just beginning to brighten from the east, lending the strange cloud formation a kind of halo effect. I watched the formation move slowly from west to east, looking particularly at the eyes and the snout. It looks slightly different from last time, but it's clear to see. The formation looks just like an alligator. Its four legs even have visible. plausible claws at the ends. The puffy white tail is held in a slight curve. It doesn't change or dissipate as other clouds do. It stays mostly the same, with only minor changes here and there, as it moves on unseen currents high above the Florida City. It almost looks like it's slowly crawling through the sky. Maybe it is. It's already warm outside, and humid. It's going to be a hot one.

In the kitchen, I pour myself a cup of coffee. My stomach is finally ready for the acidic liquid after my morning run and the excitement of seeing the cloud in the sky. The last time I saw the cloud was nearly six months ago. And what followed couldn't have been a coincidence, not a chance. But this time we'll prove it. I can feel it in my bones. Several minutes passed before Gerald knocks on my front door.

I call for him to come in. He steps into the kitchen, wearing shorts and the kind of sweat-wicking collared shirt that fishermen wear. His gray hair is trimmed short, and his upper lip sports a bushy white mustache. He's a retired animal control employee that I met through my ex-wife several years ago. I like to think we're friends, but I also know that my recent obsession with this alligator cloud phenomenon has put a strain on that friendship. All that will change today. He'll see that I'm right. Did you happen to see any on the way over here? I ask, pulling a coffee cup out of the cabinet above the coffee maker.

Nope, just a few early risers, up walking their dogs are exercising. I nod. It's still early yet. Once we each have a cup of coffee, we step out into the backyard. The cloud is now east of my house and slowly dissipating. It now just loosely resembles a gator, which means it's almost time. Do you want to call your people at animal control? I ask him.

Gerald's mustache twitches. Not yet. Besides, they'll get calls if people start seeing them. Like you say they will. That's the thing I was trying to avoid, I say, not hiding my frustration. People need to be warned. They need to be on guard. Just wait, Gerald tells me, patting the air with his left hand.

Relax. You know, there's only been 26. fatal alligator attacks in Florida since 1948, you have a better chance of getting killed in a car accident than dying by a gator. I shake my head. You're talking about normal times. This will not be normal. I can guarantee it. If my research is right, this phenomenon increases in intensity exponentially. It's just going to keep getting worse. How many gators live in Florida? Gerald sighs. Somewhere between one and two million. And we only see a small fraction of a percent of them, right?

So what if even 10% of them are drawn to one area? What do you think will happen? Listen, Dennis... Gerald suddenly stops talking when a loud thump comes from inside my house. We both turn at the noise, looking through my sliding glass door. I see nothing out of the ordinary. You having anyone over? Gerald asks.

I shake my head, stepping to the door. As I move into the house, I set my coffee down on a kitchen counter. Gerald does the same before following. My front door is wide open. I look out into the yard, seeing nothing but lush green vegetation and my lawn in need of a mo. Did you close the door hard? I asked Gerald without turning around. He pauses.

I forgot your door doesn't latch easily, he says. It's true. The humidity has played hell with my door, warping it slightly. I've been meaning to replace it. Another loud thump comes from my bedroom, followed by a crash. Someone's here, Gerald says. We should call the police. It's not someone.

It's something, I say, moving toward the bedroom. I turn into the hallway leading to the bedroom and see a long, thick tail disappear from view in the room. A lamp that was previously next to my reading chair lies broken on the ground. Tell me you saw that, I say. I did. Gerald says a little breathless. There's an alligator in your bedroom. It's never too early to plan your summer story in Europe with WestJet,

from rolling countryside to cobblestone streets. Begin your next chapter. Book your seat at westjet.com or call your travel agent. WestJet, where your story takes off. The shrill sound of a woman screaming comes from outside. Oh, Christ! I say, turning to run back toward the front door. I get out onto my lawn and look across the road.

at one of my neighbors. An older woman named Jill Fitzpatrick. She screams for help, pointing at the eight-foot alligator some five yards away from her on the sidewalk. Jill's little dog is trapped in the gator's jaws. Its fluffy white fur stained with blood, its neck clearly broken.

I sense Gerald behind me. Get back in your house! I yell at Jill. Miss Prys! She calls, bawling her hands into fists and sticking them under her chin. Before I can answer, Gerald steps up and grabs me by the shoulder.

He turns me to the right, pointing down the street, toward the bayou that bisects the neighborhood. I look that way, but I have trouble believing what I'm seeing at first. I thought I was ready for something like this, but I quickly realized I was wrong. The street is filled with alligators of all different sizes. They're like an army of reptiles, invading from the bayou at the end of the street. Several of them are already running fast, heading straight for Jill Fitzgerald. She clearly hasn't seen them. She's facing away, absorbed by her dog's violent death.

Jill! I shout, stepping forward. Run! She's making a high, keening sound, and she doesn't seem to hear me. I moved to run toward her, but Gerald yanks me back, nearly pulling me off my feet. A massive gator snaps its jaws in the ear. air where my leg just was. The shaking branches of the privacy shrubs lining the side of my yard tell me where the gator came from. If Gerald hadn't yanked me away, I'd be in the gator's clutches

now. But I'm not safe yet. Acting purely on instinct, I run back toward my house. Gerald running at my side. Jill screams again, but it doesn't register. I'm too concerned with my own safety. As soon as we're inside, I slam the door and engaged the deadbolt. Then I rush over to a a window and look across the street in time to see Jill's left arm being torn from her body as half a dozen gaiters fight over her. She's still screaming when the massive gator that almost got my leg clamps its jaws on her skull and crushes it with the crunch I can hear clearly even in the house. Genesis! Gerald shouts, catching my attention. I turned toward him, feeling sick to my stomach. There's a gator in here, remember? I nod, but I don't know what to do.

Gerald seems to sense this. I'll go close the door, he says. Just stay here. And if you see it, get into a room and close the door behind you. Then shout to tell me where it is, okay? I nod again. Gerald moves off down the hallway toward the bedroom. I can't help but look back out the window.

There are more alligators than I can count. They're taking up nearly every square foot of ground. But they're not just sitting around. They're moving out into the neighborhood. There seems to be an endless flow. of them, more than I could have ever imagined. I can no longer see Jill's body. There's only a frenzy of alligators wrestling and jostling for position. Their bodies obstructing my view. Screams, shouts, sirens, and gunshots are coming from all over the neighborhood now.

I hear a loud thump and a crunching noise from inside the house. I turn toward the source of the noise, keenly aware of the danger I'm in. Help! Gerald calls in a low voice. Somehow, it's worse than if he screamed it. My heart thumps, but I force myself to move. I run to the hallway and see Gerald punching at an alligator that has a hold of his leg just above the knee. I turn and run for the entryway closet, where I keep my shotgun.

I grab the weapon and move back to the hallway. The gator whips its head back and forth, slamming Gerald around like a rat doll. I step close and finger the safety off. Then I aim the barrel down at the place where I assume, The heart is, and fire. The blast is deafening in the enclosed space, and the back splash of meat and blood coats my arms and face.

But it works. Gerald pries open the dead reptile's jaws and extracts his leg. I step over and look down at the damage as Gerald pulls the hem of his shorts up. Blood wells out of puncture wounds on the inside of his thigh. Lots of blood. I need a hospital, he says. He seems calm for a guy whose blood is leaving his body. at such a rate.

Okay, I say, swallowing hard and stepping past him to get a belt and some car keys from my room. After leaving the shotgun in my room, I fastened the belt around his upper thigh to quell the bleeding, then help him up off the floor. We move through the laundry room and into the garage where my car is parked. I jump behind the wheel after helping him into the passenger seat. Then I make sure the windows are all up before hitting the garage door opener. In my rearview mirror, I see that the flow of gaiters still hasn't stopped. Gerald's car is parked on the other side of my driveway, and it's surrounded by gators.

I back up slowly at first, seeing if they will move. A couple of them scurry out of the way, but more just come to their places. Drive over them, Gerald says from next to me. He's leaning against the door, looking into the side mirror. He looks pale. I can see the blood leaking slowly but steadily out of his wounds. Doing as he says, I hit the gas and bump up over several of the scaly reptiles. The car rocks wildly as I drive over them.

They make low, pained, rumbling sounds. After getting out onto the street, I put the car in drive and continue the rough journey. I come to an intersection and look both ways, hoping to see an end to the carpet of alligators. But I don't. They're everywhere. I turn right, crunching and bumping over the invading animals. I can't go much over 10 miles an hour without fear of damaging the car. As I come to the next intersection, I see a vehicle speeding toward me from the right.

It's a huge, lifted truck with oversized tires. A man in a baseball cap and sunglasses drives, and another man rides in the back with a semi-automatic rifle, firing down at the cold-blooded animals. Both of them seem to be laughing as they have their fun. The driver sees me too late. He wrenches the wheel away and hits the brakes. But the truck slues left, the back tire bumping over a large gator.

The driver loses control, and the truck smashes into the front passenger side of my car. It then flips, sending the guy with the rifle flying out to land amid the toothy animals. Gerald and I are jolted violently as the front of my car whips left. While the damage isn't terrible, I can already tell that driving any further will be impossible. The front-right tire is blown, and steam spews from under the bent hood. The truck comes to a rest upside down in the front yard of a house across the street. The man who was thrown from the truck bed screams as gaiters tear into his flesh. Other gators move into the upturned cab of the truck,

and the driver's screams soon join his friends. I pull out my phone to call 911, glancing over at Gerald as I do. His eyes are open, but they stare at nothing. There's a puddle of blood on the rubber floor mat at his feet. I can see that the belt was knocked loose during the crash. But I doubt he would have made it, even if it hadn't been. I'm sorry. I say to him while the phone continues to ring.

911 operators must be busy. I just wanted someone to believe me, I say, warm tears streaming down my face. But I never wanted this. Gerald doesn't reply. He can't. Gerald's dead. I finally get a hold of an operator, and she tells me to sit tight. Someone will be out as soon as they can.

After about an hour and a half, the alligators fade back into the South Florida waters, leaving behind hundreds of their dead brethren. I watched them from my wrecked car, wondering just what could cause such a thing. I know there's nothing we can do about it, even if we find out what causes the phenomenon. We won't be able to prevent it. Not really.

Nature's funny like that. We think we can control it, or at least predicted enough to warn people about it. But we can only do so much. And what we can do is often not enough. I just hope I never see a gator-shaped cloud in the sky ever again. It's a hope I doubt will ever come true. But as long as I'm able, I'll keep checking this sky looking for the warning signs. It's not enough.

SCP-1108 is a meteorological phenomenon that has only been observed along the southeast coast of the United States, recurring most frequently along the coast of Florida. The phenomenon produces a distinct shape in the clouds over the affected area. Based on the aerial photographs and the surrounding ecosystem, this shape is best described as resembling the American alligator. In ideal conditions, The anomaly appears in enough detail for eyelids, teeth, and individual scutes to be clearly identified. Aerial and even peripheral observation indicates that the vaporous mass even moves its limbs, albeit slowly, mimicking the reptile's distinctive gait.

SCP-108 most frequently appears a few hours before dawn, often emerging from an existing cloud bank at a dew point and temperature consisting with fog formation. This gator formation will maintain its distinct size and shape for upwards of six hours. During the six-hour period, SCP 11-0A traverses an area approximately 31 miles long, always toward the bordering Atlantic. The form then appears to dissipate gradually into the atmosphere. The effects on the local ecosystem do not become apparent until after the formation's departure, specifically in areas directly overshadowed by SCP 117.

1708's passage, adult alligators have been found congregating in the dozens or even hundreds. The infestations occur far from areas highly populated by the native reptile, which appear in the greatest numbers on private property and suburban developments. During an SCP-1108 occurrence, the alligators will often become particularly aggressive, attacking pets, animals and humans without hesitation. Lazzang sur-gillet, Pucance-Moyerned 15 minutes.

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