The SCP Experience - The Hostile Forest | SCP-1100

Episode Date: June 14, 2024

Want to listen ad-free? Try it FREE for 7 days here: patreon.com/TheSCPExperience SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-3054: The Hostile Forest This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-1100 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Andrew E. * * * 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 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

How is TD making banking more human? Easy. With less bank talk and more real talk. Less your call is important to us. And more, how can we help? Less confusion and more clarity. It's things like being able to buy partial shares with TD direct investing. And tracking your spending and saving with TD My Spend.

It's getting more of what you want and less of what you don't. That's how TD is making banking more human. Year 1. Warning signs. The forest is always changing. The seasons blend into each other without clear start and end points. You learned that as a ranger for Olympic National Park. The cold weather might finally seem to break and warm up in March, only for the snow to come roaring back a week later.

Spring showers might give way to summer heat, only for the whole forest to be hit with another thunderstorm. So instead, I measured the start and end of each season by the number of complaints I had to deal with from angry visitors who had one issue or another. Winter was quiet, with few people even venturing into the tundra, and those that did tended to be experienced hikers. After that, there would be a huge spike in complaints coinciding with the start of the spring season, as eager hikers and campers took advantage of the thaw. That would usually level out after a few weeks. Then it was downright crowded in the summer. I was putting out fires for a whole three weeks or four months.

And that was when the forest wasn't literally on fire, which was rare, but still a constant worry in the dry months. Autumn featured a slow decline in activity until the first snow, which killed off visitor interest for all but the diehards, meaning no angry emails for me to reply to. The years flowed on like that. The forest always changing, but the tourists staying basically the same. And before I knew it, I'd been a ranger for ten years.

I was 34 still in my prime, but well settled into the job by that point. The summer season, as judged by the number of angry emails from campers I had in my inbox, had started earlier than it ever had before, in mid-April. The issues our visitors were having were a little strange, too. I could tell by the subject titles alone. I ate some wild strawberries and they made me sick. Can you do something about all the pricker bushes on the trail? Fowl-smelling flowers.

I couldn't be held responsible for the quality of our wild strawberries or the odor of our flowers. What did these idiots expect for me? As for the pricker bushes, I was in charge of park maintenance to an extent. I made a note to keep an eye out for an unusual number of pricker bushes on the trail, but honestly, my gut told me that the visitor was just clumsy. My walkie-talkie sounded.

Someone was trying to get in touch with me. I unhooked it from the holster on my belt and adjusted the frequency a little. Ranger Cartwright, I said. What's up? Over. Hey, Alex. I mean, Ranger Cartwright. But my lips quirked a little. Dave Rodriguez was one of our new guys. The kid was tall and ropey with dark hair and eyes, a little on the quiet side, but not impersonable.

He seemed well suited to working as a park ranger both physically and temperamentally. He was fresh out of college and eager to prove himself. I'd told him a thousand times to use our formal titles while we were on the job, and he was starting to get the hang of it. Kind of. He was a good kid, though, hard worker. What do you need? Over. I asked.

Get to the point, kid. It's just, I found something strange, really strange. And I think you should, like, see it? What did you see exactly? Over. There was radio silence for a few long seconds. It's a tree, one I've never seen before. It's, I'm not even sure it's natural. I've been racking my brain for an hour and I can't identify the species.

Now that was surprising. One of the things that had impressed me about Rodriguez in his interview, had been his deep knowledge of plant and animal species. He had especially studied up on the ones present, an Olympic National Park for his interview. So it was unusual that he'd come across one he couldn't identify. Where are you, over? He gave his location, and it happened to be near where that one visitor had complained that there were too many pricker bushes.

And frankly, leaving the Ranger Lodge to go check out some weird tree seemed like a better use of my time than replying to amateur campers, mad at a less than idyllic forest experience. I'm on my way, over. A half hour later, I was examining the trail with all the pricker bushes, and, yeah, I had to admit, there was a bit of an overgrowth of spiny plants, not only pricker bushes, but nettles and wildflowers that grew sharp points on their leaves or stems. A little unusual, but nothing worth freaking out over.

I made a mental note to have this area pruned to make it a little more passable for hikers. Rodriguez was waiting for me off the trail, and I thanked God that I was wearing tall boots, because if I thought the spines were too thick on the trail, they were much worse off of it. It was like the forest itself was trying to block my path. Yeah, this kind of overgrowth was definitely undesirable. I made another mental note to put a rush on the maintenance of this area of the park. Over here, I heard a deep voice call. It was Rodriguez.

I went over to where he stood next to an impressively large tree, probably one of the biggest in the forest, judging by its width and height. Rodriguez was anxiously glancing between it and me, probably worried that I'd berate him for dragging me away from the lodge. But I wasn't the berating sort. If anything, I'd just seethe quietly until I got over it. All right, let's see this weird tree then.

I said. It's, uh, this one, Rodriguez said, pointing to the giant one he was standing next to. Only it wasn't weird at all. It was clearly a Pacific Douglas fir. Even I knew that. I mean, they were giant, kind of hard to miss. Seeing my confusion, Rodriguez beckoned me over and said, Look closer.

Half beginning to suspect I was having a prank pulled on me, I slowly approached the tree. Yeah, it was a large fir tree. Nothing unusual. Wait, that couldn't be right. There on the bark, the tree was covered with little spines. They were thin and not very long, maybe three inches, which explained why I hadn't seen them.

But they were unmistakable up close. The Pacific Douglas firs didn't have spines. Besides being a park ranger, I'd also lived my whole life in the Pacific Northwest, and I'd never seen any fur trees with spines, ever. But then, Rodriguez would know better than me. Do any species of fir trees have spikes like these? I asked. He shook his head.

Not that I'm aware of. I walked around the tree and saw that the whole thing was covered in them. I wasn't foolish enough to touch one, but they looked needle sharp. Did you see all the spiny plants on your way here? here, Rodriguez asked. They'd been hard to miss. Sounded like we'd both had the same thought. Could the overgrowth of plants with those types of defensive adaptations be somehow related to this tree? Perhaps it was simply a mutated member of its species and the other plants were a coincidence? I frowned. That seemed far too easy in explanation. It sounded like an excuse to forget about it

and move on. When I didn't initially answer him, Rodriguez began stuttering a little. I thought it was important. Should I not have bothered you? No, I said, clearing my throat. It was good you said something. I did notice the plant life. It's strange for sure. Here's what we'll do. We need to schedule a time to do some park maintenance in this area, gardening, basically. You'll supervise that. And then I'll need to someone to conduct periodic checks of our progress and report back to me. Think he can handle it? Rodriguez nodded so fast I thought his head might fall off.

Yes, he said. I just, how do I, like, set all that up? I let myself grin a little. He was still a newbie after all. Come on back to the lodge and I'll walk you through it. He gave me a grateful smile and the two of us walked back to the lodge. As we left, though, I glanced back at the large. large fir tree slowly fading into the distance behind us.

It stood there, covered in the spines it shouldn't have. I almost felt as if it were watching me, and a chill traveled down my spine. The rest of the year passed in relative peace. Although visitor issues were slightly elevated and a little strange, they were within acceptable levels. And any time I went to investigate their claims of odd-smelling flowers or disgusting-looking fruit. I never found anything other than ordinary forest, sights, and smells. Rodriguez performed better and better as the year won on. He wasn't that adaptable to new situations. But if he

showed him how to do something, he caught on quickly and executed his tasks well. Honestly, it wasn't the worst thing to have an employee that needed teaching on every little thing, especially since he only needed one lesson to grasp the concept. He gradually grew more independent, as time went on. Although the briar patch near the mysterious tree resurged several times, Rodriguez always handled it before it became a problem for hikers. By the end of the summer, I was pretty sure we'd pulled all the troubled plants out by their roots, since none of the stinging plants grew there anymore. As for the tree itself, there was no change. It was still a little unsettling to see a tree with defensive capabilities it shouldn't have.

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is made for you help. Telecharge it right now. Year 2, growing unease. As winter gave way to spring yet again, it was clear the character of the forest had changed in some way. Plants which had been rare or entirely absent were suddenly seen in great numbers, and certain animal populations would dwindle,

and then suddenly explode. We noticed an uptick in beehives. This was great news for the fragile bee populations we'd been working to preserve, but it did pose a risk for visitors to my park. We issued guidance on avoiding bee colonies, and especially how to not provoke them. Not that our dumbest hikers listened. We had one bad allergic reaction to a bee sting,

but otherwise mostly minor incidents. Just the hives driving off intruders. Rodriguez and I were performing our yearly sweep of the park to assess the health of the forest. Of course, Olympic National Park was huge, some 1,300 square miles, but my station was only in charge of a small section of it. It was Rodriguez's first time conducting this assessment, but, as I expected, he was taking to the work well. Actually, he might have been doing a better job than me.

We just finished surveying a ridge when Rodriguez spoke up. Ranger Cartwright, we're near that spiny Douglas fir. Should we go check on it? We didn't really need to. It was in a well-traveled area, so hikers would alert us if anything was unusual about it. But it was good that Rodriguez was showing initiative. And I had to admit, I was curious to see if the tree was still spiky.

Good idea, Ranger Rodriguez. Let's check it out. I said. He beamed when I voiced approval for his suggestion, which made me chuckle. The kid responded very well to positive reinforcement. We headed over that way, taking a slightly roundabout route to avoid some rough terrain.

We looped around, and were coming from the opposite direction of the trail when I placed my hand against a tree to balance myself as I stepped over a hollowed out log. A sharp pain lanced through my palm. I reared back, my heel banging against the log and causing me to lose balance. I fell over the fallen tree and hit the ground with a soft thud.

Luckily, the foliage had broken my fall, but that was no help for my hand, which was now screaming in pain. Ow! Jesus, fuck! Shit that hurts! My hand was bleeding. It had been cut open by something. That looks nasty, Rodriguez said. What happened?

Well, let's just say I think I found the tree. with the spikes on it. I said through a grimace. Rodriguez tilted his head, confused. No, it's just over there. See? He pointed off behind him. I rolled onto my knees and then stood up. He was right.

There in the distance was the same Pacific Douglas fir that we'd found last year. I couldn't quite make out the spines from that distance, but it was the same one. I was certain. But then, Rodriguez gas. I examined the tree I'd put my hand on and, sure enough,

it too had a collection of sharp points all around its trunk. Had they somehow spread from tree to tree? Rodriguez, please tell me this is at least the same species as the other tree, I said. He shook his head. No, this is a Western hemlock. You can tell by the shape and size of its pine needles. Also, their max height is much shorter than...

him off with a glare. We didn't need tree facts right now. We needed to figure out what the hell was going on. To me, something that spread from tree to tree screamed disease, though I'd never heard of a tree disease that caused spiky outgrowths. But the already slim chances of that were far less likely if the changes occurred across different species. Maybe a parasite? What should we do? Rodriguez asked. His stutter returning under the stress of the situation. Let's take a look around, I said, hoping against hope that it was only these two trees showing this unusual symptom. A half an hour later, and my hopes had been crushed. I counted 20 individuals with these strange spines.

My hand hurt, and I was tired and confused as hell. But the quick survey we'd done had given me time to come up with a plan of sorts. I was dreading having to talk to the guy I was thinking of, but I didn't have another option. We're in over our heads, I announced. I'm going to call a naturalist. I know someone. I'll ask if you can come by and try to figure out what we've got on our hands here. That settled the situation for the time being. At this point, it was time to have lunch.

But as we were walking back to the lodge, we got a call on the all-purpose radio. We left one in the lodge at all times so that if a visitor needed to reach us and no one was there, They could use it to contact us. Is anybody there? The voice was young and feminine. Yes, hello. This is Ranger Carpwright. How can I help you?

Oh, thank God. I'm using this thing right. Me and a friend were hiking, and she tripped and fell, spraining her ankle, I think. And we would have just, like, limped back to our car, but she's kind of tangled. I can't get her free. What?

Was she caught in some bush? It was weird she wasn't. wasn't able to free herself, but maybe she was simply in too much pain to move. Okay, what's your name? Alice. All right, Alice. Wait for us at the lodge. We're not far away. We'll stop by, grab the first aid kit, and then you can show us where your friend is. Yes, okay. Thank you.

No problem. Rodriguez and I hustled back to the lodge, where we'd been headed anyway. We picked up Alice and the first aid kit and ran to where her friend was. She was lying on her stomach, resting her head on her hands. She lifted her head when we approached, and I saw that her cheeks were stained with tears. Poor girl. A vine had somehow twisted itself around her ankle. It went some ways into the brush. It looked like one of the ones that creeped their way up the trunks of trees. Judging by the swelling, her ankle was definitely sprained. First, Rodriguez and I tried to remove the vine, but it just wouldn't uncoil. It was one.

weird, as if it were actually gripping her foot. After that, we tried to pull Alice's friend free. She started yelping at the slightest pull, saying it felt like the vine was tightening around her foot. That was an odd way of phrasing it. Finally, I pulled out my pocket knife and cut her loose from the vine. It resisted the first few swipes, but after the blade penetrated the tough exterior, the two-inch thick vine gave way and snapped, freeing her leg. Alice was overjoyed.

We quickly wrapped up her friend's ankle with compression tape, told her to ice the injury, keep it elevated, and to rest for a day. But to start walking as soon as she was able, it was standard sprain advice. With Alice carrying both girls' backpacks, Rodriguez and I balanced the other girl between us, and helped her walk back to her car.

Something about the incident didn't sit right with me. So after we got the two ladies situated, and Rodriguez and I had lunch. I headed back out to where the vine had tripped the woman. I couldn't find it. There was no vine. Not even the piece I'd cut off from the main body. It had disappeared.

I didn't even wait to return to the lodge to make the call. I'd been dreading it since I'd first thought of the idea, but his number was still saved in my contacts. So it took all of two seconds to find his details and initiate a call. Well, hello, Alex. He said, an emotion welled up in my stomach. Loneliness? Regret? I refused to acknowledge it or name it.

He wasn't worth the hassle. I'd learned that the hard way. I never thought I'd get a call from you. To what do I owe the pleasure? Hello, Christopher. I'd hoped a flat tone would dissuade him from his usual flirting, but that was too much to hope for. Oh, I'm Christopher now.

Are you playing hard to get? I hear you're still a park ranger. I bet you're more muscular now than you were back then. Knock it off, Chris, I said, rolling my eyes. He wasn't serious. The man never was. This is a business call. Oh?

For all his faults, Christopher was an excellent botanist, likely the best in the state. We'd met in an environmental science class at Washington State University, and he'd carried me through the term. I told him about the strange things that had been happening around the park lately. I started with the vine incident, then detailed the rising tide of complaints, the bee attacks, the foul-smelling flowers, all of it. Chris seemed unimpressed, and I had to admit,

if someone had been telling me this exact same story, I probably would have been too. The difference was that I'd seen some of it firsthand. He perked up when I mentioned the spiky trees, though. You saw them yourself, he said. Well, that sounds a little more worth my trip. Different species, huh? So, will you come by? This time I couldn't help but let a little hope into my voice.

Something was wrong with the forest, my forest, and I didn't have anyone else to turn to. He sighed dramatically and then said, Fine, for you. Great. Now I owed him a favor. at board of Viarai. Embarked and profited. Embarked

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The reglements of the concourse sapplic. We hammered out a time for him to make the trip to the park, and he was true to his word, showing up on time with what I could only describe as science equipment. Chris may have kept me from failing that environmental science class, but that didn't mean I'd done well. Take me to the trees, he said. Along the way, he and Rodriguez chatted about botany while I kept quiet.

I felt kind of weird, bringing my ex to my place of work, even if my place of work was a whole ass forest. Still, he was well-behaved and kept his flirting in check. Rodriguez didn't seem too uncomfortable, which had been one of my main concerns in inviting Chris. Once there, he ooed and awed over our unusual trees. He took samples of the bark, the spines, the pine needles, and surrounding soil, and whatever he could get his hands on, really. Once he had finished, we hiked back to the lodge. On the way, Chris stopped short.

What is it? I asked. This flower! He was looking at some kind of flowering plant. It had purple flowers, each with five petals. There weren't any others like it nearby. But that wasn't so strange. Seed dispersers like birds often dropped plant seeds far away from their origin point.

What about it? I don't recognize it, he said. I mean, there are way too many plants on Earth to memorize them all. But it's got such a striking color. I'm surprised it doesn't at least seem familiar to me. What do you guys think? All flowers look the same to me, Ranger Rodriguez. I think I've seen it around the trails here and there recently,

but I don't know the species. Hmm, Chris said as he leaned down to sniff the flower. Oh, damn! That stinks! Alex, I think we found your foul-smelling flower culprit. Both Rodriguez and I leaned in to sniff. Sure enough, it stunk. I'd describe it as somewhere between rotten egg and seafood. Chris made a note of it in his little journal.

He then took samples of the leaves and flowers of the plant. So, I'm curious. What's your gut instinct? About the trees, I mean, Rodriguez asked. Chris tapped his pen on his lips before answering, as he always did when he was thinking. Well, nothing immediately springs to mind as a precise answer.

My first theory, and to be clear, this is without studying any of the evidence, so take it with a grain of salt, would be a parasite, one that burrows into the trees and siphons nutrients. That would explain why it's spreading and why it's affecting different species of tree. Still, I'm not sure why it would take the form of a spike.

Maybe self-defense. Toward off animals that could threaten the tree? But trees are most threatened by insects and disease, so a spike like that wouldn't help. My second theory? He won't like my second theory. What's on your second theory? Rodriguez asked before I could tell him not to.

Radiation. Perhaps radiation mutated the trees and maybe that flower. which would explain why there have been so many strange incidents in the forest lately. Could it be at a high enough level to affect visitors? I asked. I doubt it. But the Rangers could be at risk, since they spend so much time in the park. I'll check for elevated levels of radiation first thing. After that, I walked Chris back to his car, leaving Rodriguez at the lodge. Thanks for coming out. You've been helpful, I said.

Yeah. Sure. Of course. You've definitely piqued my interest. These phenomena you're describing fascinate me, especially now that I've seen them with my own eyes. I can't wait to analyze my samples. That was just like him. Always curious, always ready to investigate the next mystery.

I was happy with my career, my life. Being a park ranger was a bit of a solo act, but that suited me. Still, standing next to Chris, it did make me a little nostalgic for the good old days. I... Hey, Chris said at the same time. I chuckled and said, you first. No, I... well, I just wanted to apologize for how things went down. He was looking at the ground.

I made you into the bad guy when I was the one who fucked up. I'm sorry. That had been on. unexpected. To Chris I'd known, never apologized. That was part of the reason we'd broken up. I didn't even remember why we'd been fighting, but I sure as hell remember how it devolved into a screaming match. Thanks for, you know, saying that. I appreciated, I said, making eye contact with him, bracing my hand on his shoulder, trying to show him that I really meant it. I held my hand there for another beat before dropping it.

Let me know what you find out with the samples, okay? His gaze drifted to his shoulder where my hand had been and said, Yeah, sure thing. I'll call you. After that, he drove off. The next day he called and informed me that none of the samples he'd taken had elevated levels of radiation, so he was tentatively ruling that out as a cause, though he'd need more samples from a wider area of the forest to be certain.

Radiation would have been awful, obviously, but at least it would have been an answer. The forest was changing in a way I didn't recognize or understand, and it was starting to frighten me. Year 3, disappearance. The only reply was my own echo. My voice was hoarse, and my feet were killing me. But I forced myself to push forward. Jeremy had already spent a night alone in the forest, and I didn't want him to have to spend another. I looked toward the horizon.

Shit, we were losing light. We had maybe another hour and a half, before it would be too dark to continue searching effectively. Jeremy! Chris shouted next to me. We'd become tentative friends over the past year. He'd come by my neck of the woods every few weeks to collect samples and catch up on the strange things that were happening all over the park. I'd even heard word from other ranger stations that their quadrants were also affected. Chris had visited their areas of the forest as well, and he'd begun slowly ruling things out,

no radioactivity, no parasites that he could identify, and no viruses or bacteria either. But even given his professional interest in the forest and his personal interest in hanging out with me, I hadn't expected him to drop everything and join the search party. Jeremy Baker, a 23-year-old law student, had been reported missing by his girlfriend late the previous night when he hadn't come home. He was meant to hike around the park alone for a few hours before heading to a bar with some

friends. The friend said he never showed up. It had taken some time for the search party to get organized, but we were up and running by dawn. Chris had unexpectedly shown up around nine in the morning. He was wearing the hiking boots I insisted he buy if he was going to be spending his weekends walking across a forest sample hunting. How can I help? he asked. I was just about to head out. You can come with me, I'd said, even though I'd actually been planning

to help set up the command tent for another hour. Instead, I left it to Rodriguez and joined the search party. Jeremy! I called out again. All this walking and yelling was really taking a toll on me. I was out of breath,

and blisters were forming on my feet. My throat was sore and dry. Let's take a break, Chris panted. We're no help to anyone if we collapse from exhaustion. He was doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard. Right. I was used to walking these trails, but Chris wasn't. The man looked about ready to keel over.

Okay, sure, I said. I found a nearby log and we both sat down on it. The part of the forest we were in was dense and little traveled. but I had a good sense of where we were. At least it was cool in the shade. It felt like it got hotter and hotter every year. After a few minutes, Chris spoke up. What do you think happened to him?

I took a gulp of water for my canteen and shrugged. Went off the trail and got lost, probably. Yeah, probably, Chris trailed off. He was staring off into the depths of the forest, lost and thought. I knew from experience that Chris didn't quite agree with my assessment. You think it's something else? I asked. It's just... I've been reading the same reports you have.

Injuries at a record high. People getting sick from eating wild berries that are usually safe. Reports of unusually aggressive animals. Complaints that touching a plant burn them. And more and more of those spiky trees showing up every day. It's like the whole forest is. turned hostile towards humans. That's not very scientific, I said.

But I wasn't sure I disagreed. I hadn't heard any reports of animals getting sick from eating berries, for example. He laughed. That's true. But science has ruled out every explanation I can think of. I'm running out of things to test. For a while, I was thinking that a terrorist group had introduced some sort of biochemical agent that caused mutations, but... There, a rough.

of something in the overgrowth to our left. Both of our heads snapped towards the sound. There was another rustle. Do you think it's Jeremy? Chris asked. No, I think he would have called out to us. There was definitely something back there, though, something large. I saw a shadow emerge and then come into focus in the fading afternoon light.

It was a deer, a stag to be precise. The largest I'd seen in my entire ten years on the job. It towered over us, at least eight feet tall with antlers included. The antlers themselves were huge and sprawling. They seemed too large to navigate a dense forest like this one, and they were strange. Rather than the rounded tips typical of deer, these ended in sharp points, like they were designed for stabbing, as if they were used for goring attacks rather than mating displays against other males. It stepped forward and snuffed.

That's when I noticed its teeth. They weren't the flat, thick teeth of an herbivore, but the sharpened incisors of a carnivore. It stared at us and took a step forward, only for its large antlers to bump against the tree. Alex, I... Shh! I said, grabbing Chris's hand without looking.

I guided him off the log and maneuvered him behind me. I then took slow, cautious steps away from the deer, careful to keep my eyes on it at all time. My breath came in panting heaves that I tried to quiet, and my eyes were dry, but I didn't dare to blink. The buck opened its mouth and let out a mangled cry. I'd never heard anything like it. It snuffled again and tried to push past the tree, but again was stopped by the width of its antlers.

Chris was squeezing my hand tight, and though I felt the same terror he did, I tried my best to give a calm squeeze back, to a short. to assure him that everything would be all right, but I wasn't sure it would be. We spent a half hour slowly backing away from the menacing creature until it finally faded from view. Then we turned tail and ran as fast as our legs would carry us. Not long after, we found ourselves on a friendlier-looking trail where the light was a little brighter in the path not so overgrown.

What the fuck was that? Chris said. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Chris was heaving hard, and I wasn't much better. He placed two fingers on his neck and looked at his watch, monitoring his heartbeat. I wasn't sure if he was doing that for an actual medical reason,

or if he was just trying to distract himself from what happened. That thing would have charged us if it could. And Jesus, did you see its teeth? Chris raved. Whatever's happening here, it's spreading. It's affecting the animals, too. I'm scared. Terrified, actually.

I tried to comfort him. I tried to say the words you're supposed to say when someone is upset, but it didn't make much difference. We both knew I'd been scared shitless, too. We never found Jeremy Baker, and we never found the other three people who disappeared that year either. A grim park record. All we found was one apparently abandoned campsite.

I instituted a new rule that no ranger was to be out in the forest alone. I warned hikers and even Washington State and federal government officials about the danger, but no one really listened. It became clear that I was on my own. Year 4, Origin. I'd just come back from a meeting with my superior about my supposed mismanagement of the park when my phone rang. The disappearances had catapulted Olympic National Park into the national spotlight, and we were starting to take heat from both news organizations and the government.

I tried to make my case and explain the strange behavior of animals and the odd plant mutations that were only getting worse over the years. But that was just used as further evidence of my incompetence. I hadn't been fired as of yet, but they made it clear that it was only my sterling record in the ten years prior that had saved me. I'd be on thin ice going forward. I answered the call with a heavy sigh. Hello? Hello? You sound beat, Chris said. I feel beat.

I just got reamed by my boss over my poor management of the park. Ouch. Well, I have some good news for you. That perked me up. After the deer incident, Chris had thrown himself into identifying the cause of the strange occurrences in the forest. He'd finally gotten funding from the university where he worked to study the flora and fauna of the forest. And he'd kind of gone off the grid since then. then. I hadn't heard much from him over the past few months.

What is it? I asked. Don't keep me in suspense. I found something. A chemical compound. It's made up primarily of heavy proteins. I won't bore you with the science stuff. Basically, I think it's capable of causing the mutations in the plants and animals that we've been seeing, though I have no idea why it causes them to be so specifically hostile towards humans. Can you stop it? Chris hesitated before reply. No, not yet. I'm sorry. I know that's not what you want to hear. Science is a slow field. It'll take a while before I figure out this compound, and it will take even longer to synthesize something to destroy it. I see, I said, trying to keep an even tone. I knew Chris was doing his best. I must not have sounded very convincing because Chris came back with... Don't sound so disappointed. I found something else.

I've been looking at all the incidents, all the complaints you've gotten, and the results of my own field research. And I believe I've identified an origin point, a patient zero for the infection, if you will. I processed that for a moment. You want to go on an expedition to the origin point, I said. Yes. It would obviously be the most dangerous area of the park, with the heaviest concentration of mutated organisms. And they'd all be trying to kill us. It was probably suicide.

Just tell me one and where. 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. When turned out to be several weeks later, we decided against charging in blind and instead opted to prepare.

I scouted the area with a drone while Chris cooked up some sort of super all-purpose anti-plant and insect spray. For any animals we'd encounter, I'd be bringing a rifle and a pistol. Waiting presented its own risks, however. The longer we waited, the deeper into the spring and summer we got, which meant escalating attacks. Whatever was happening to the park, it peaked in May and June. Still, that gave us some useful information. Hikers reported noxious clouds of gas that made them sick,

and seed pods that sprayed them with chemicals that burned their skin. We knew to wear heavy-duty masks and thick clothing covering our entire bodies, despite the heat. Chris came by the lodge lugging some huge tank on his back that was connected to a spray nozzle. Inside the tank was some awful liquid I could smell even through the plastic container. What's in that stuff? I asked. His face was grim. If I tell you, he'll be an accessory to a crime. There was a pause while I waited for him to burst out laughing,

and then go into great detail about the precise chemical compounds he'd used. But he didn't. He simply stared at me. The man was serious. We double-checked our equipment, making sure there were no gaps in our clothes for liquid or insects to slip through. We put our masks on and left the lodge. Gradyges was waiting for us.

He was masked, too, and was wearing a long-sleeve sweatshirt and pants. I'm going to, he said. Damn it. I tried to keep all this from him. I didn't need a kid in his early 20s with a bright future ahead of him getting mixed up in this. Even in the best-case scenario, where we succeeded in stopping whatever this was, we were all probably going to get fired. And I wasn't optimistic about achieving the best-case scenario.

I've lived here my whole life. and, um, I can't let you go alone, Rodriguez said. Please, Ranger, no, I mean, please, Alex. Chris and I locked eyes, and he gave a small shrug, leaving the decision with me. Fine then. Really? Yeah, you just follow along behind if I said no anyway, right? Rodriguez smiled sheepishly, implying I'd been right.

He picked up the backpack I just noticed was on the ground, and the three of us set off. Hours of silent trudging later, Rodriguez tried to strike up a conversation. So, why are we going this way? Rodriguez asked, as he stumbled up a sand dune. Wouldn't it be faster to go directly through the forest? We were at a beach on the western side of the park. With the calm waves and the gulls calling, a known monster deer trying to gore us to death. I could almost imagine we were on a normal hike across the park.

the beach. Well, Chris said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a map. My surveys suggest that, for whatever reason, the compound I identified has been slow to spread towards the ocean. By going around and approaching from the west, we'll spend the least amount of time in the forest as we travel towards the origin point. Actually, he stopped short and looked around. Alex, I think we need to head into the forest now. We're about level with the origin point. All right, I said. We're going to move quickly, but quietly. Talking needs to be kept at an absolute minimum. Don't touch anything, especially if you don't recognize it. And for God's sake, don't wander off on your own. If you get lost, just head west back to the beach, got it? They both nodded. Then let's go

and end this. It was only a five-minute walk from the beach to the tree line. We hesitate. We hesitate, Iitated at the entrance, but steeled ourselves and headed in. I was first, followed by Chris and then Rodriguez. At first, the forest seemed normal, but it wasn't long before Chris tapped my shoulder and pointed off to the right. Spike trees, he said under his breath. The points were thicker and larger than I remembered, and they seemed to be wet, glistening with something.

Condensation? Or a toxin? When normally I might push past trees and bushes, hardly caring as I barreled towards my destination, I instead wove in and around the plants, trying to avoid contact at all costs. With each step of progress we made, the wildlife grew stranger and more unrecognizable, flower shapes I'd never seen, trees, a sickly yellow color and oozing orange sap, and shrill bird calls that hurt my ears. There was a thick pollen in the air that burned my eyes.

I forced myself not to rub them, though both Chris and Rodriguez couldn't help themselves. Nothing had attacked us, but I couldn't help but feel like the forest knew we were here. We finally came to a clearing. At the center stood an absolutely gargantuan tree. I had no frame of reference for this thing. It was wider by far than any redwood I'd seen, even in photos. I hadn't noticed, but we'd been walking under its canopy for a good few minutes. Its branches stretched out far behind us.

How could the branches be that long and not crack under the pressure at the base? I think this is the origin point. You got enough of that stuff to kill it? I asked, pointing to his canister of chemicals. Uh, maybe if I use all of it, he said. Then what are we waiting for? I took a step into the clearing. The second I did, the ground shook.

An earthquake? No, it was more like a pulse. The tree. The fucking tree was thrumming a beat. Every few seconds it shook, sending a pulse into the ground. All of a sudden, spiky outgrowths burst from the soil. They looked like roots, except they were covered with white flowers and ended in wicked points. I lost count after nine, and all of them were pointed directly at us.

Did it hear us somehow? I asked. Back in the forest behind us, I could hear a clamory. Alien shrieks and yells I'd never heard before in my life. Mutated animals. We were trapped. It felt our vibrations more likely, Chris said. What do we do now? Whatever we do, we'd better hurry. Don't worry, I have a plan, Rodriguez said.

When I make my move, you guys walk towards the base of the tree. Keep your footsteps as light as possible. What about you? Chris asked. He pulled out a long club-shaped stick, covered at the tip in a rag that stank of gasoline. He pulled out a lighter and lit a dangling piece of the rag. The whole top immediately burst into flame. I'll be okay, he said.

And before either of us could respond and tell him not to do it, he ran towards the tree, then veered right, stomping his feet as he went. The roots immediately shifted position and began to strike at Rodriguez. He dodged the first few and even managed to set one of the nearby roots on fire as he ran past it. Chris, come on! I said, tugging him towards the tree's trunk. But Dave! We can help him by killing the thing attacking him. Now move! Even though I don't think my adrenaline could have been any higher, I forced myself to take gentle steps as we moved. All of the tendrils' attention were still on Rodriguez. The animal sounds were getting louder behind us, and I could hear rustling.

Another pulse that rippled through the earth nearly made me lose my balance, but I managed to keep both myself and Chris upright and moving. We turned to see that Rodriguez had fallen to the ground. Another of the tree's roots was on fire, but the others were circling him. He rolled to dodge one of the strikes, and it barely missed his head and slammed him to the ground. But he wasn't so lucky with the next one. A sharp root pierced his shoulder, pinning him to the ground. It was a high-pitched, desperate wail.

Blood stained the ground. He wriggled a bit, but there was no dislodging the root from his shoulder. Chris, hurry! The spray! I said, but I knew in my heart it wouldn't make a difference. I'm trying! He said, voice shaking as Rodriguez writhed and screamed. Chris was lucky. He was looking at the tree's base,

watching as the trickle of fluid from his canister became a stream. Dave wasn't as lucky, though. I saw three more roots rise up and then slam down, shredding Dave Rodriguez's body, cutting through his stomach, leg, and neck. His screams were cut short, and the young man I'd known for four years was gone. No, no, no, no, Chris said, trembling. I grabbed his wrist and forced him to keep aiming at the base of the tree as the fluid leaked out. Careful not to provoke the roots, which were still focused on Rodriguez's body,

we tiptoed around the base of the tree, making sure to spray every inch of it with Chris's concoction until there was none left. The noise of the animals had swelled to a cacophony. They'd gathered at the edge of the clearing. I could see mutated deer, similar to the one we'd escaped from last year, and birds that were far too large with beaks, far too sharp.

Deeper past the tree line, there were dark, hulking shadows of beasts too large to be recognizable. I was glad I couldn't see them. And all around and in between them were the chatterings of hundreds of thousands of smaller mammals, each with horrible red eyes and porcupine spines instead of fur. God! Oh God! Chris said as he slid down to the ground, back braced against the tree. I checked my pistol and my rifle, and what little spare ammo I'd brought.

Not enough. Not nearly enough. I slid down next to Chris and pulled out an expensive bottle of whiskey. He'd bought it for my birthday just before we'd broken up. I'd never had the heart to drink it, or throw it away, I guess. I opened it and took a swig, then passed it to him. His eyebrows raised in recognition. Then he wiped his eyes and nose, which was running a little. You never thought we'd make it back, he said.

No, not really. I'm sorry. He sniffled before taking the bottle and downing a huge. huge gulp. He set the bottle between us and then took my hand. He was shaking. He didn't say anything. Nothing more needed to be said. We simply waited for the end to come. SCP 1100 is a complex organic substance that causes anomalous transformations in natural plant life. Despite being composed primarily of heavy proteins and redacted, SCP 1100 is easily transmitted between plants, the opolline,

seeds, and other airborne elements, and over the course of 72 hours causes plants to become increasingly dangerous to human life. The effects of SCP-1100 include, but are not limited to, alterations to the appearance of edible plants that renders them repulsive to human observers, the growth of hardened thorns and toughened structures in edible plants, rendering them inedible or indigestible to humans. the internal manufacture of substances that cause nausea, pain, or severe internal injury to humans. SCP-1100 was first encountered following the 1989 Exxon Valdez oil spill, contaminating plants near human settlements near the affected region.

It is currently unknown how SCP-1100 is able to specifically target humans with these adaptations. Nor is it known what organization is responsible for the manufacture of SCP-1100. Research and additional funding have been allocated to investigate the source of SCP-1100.