The SCP Experience - The Red Mile | SCP-450

Episode Date: September 1, 2021

SCP Foundation EUCLID class object, SCP-450: The Red Mile. This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-450, and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ DISCLAIMER: This story is rated R for adults 18 years or older. NOT for children. #drscp #scp #scpfoundation #doctorscp #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories #scpexplained #whatisscp Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Lazang surgellied, Pugance Moines for 15 minutes. We're like it's the hour Dojo? Prere to play. Vive the pleasure

with Leo Jo. The casino in line that proposes the most recent machine-as-a-sue to play in-d-d-d- -dose-d-d-d-d-d

-d-d-d-dolns. Without exiganceance, without the payment instant-a. Hey, I've gained. W-Hoo! Scentire the pleasure Play-O-Jo!

18-N-N-Pos 10-2-L-D-POS B'Bas-B-B-B-B-B-Nanza. Depos minimum of $10. Veillethe's me in a fashion responsible. The conditions apply. Being D-Class and the foundation is no picnic. Some days you don't get bothered.

Other days are deeply bothersome. Today might be one of those days. Myself and three others are shoved into a vehicle where we are driven out to the location. The windows were blackened so none of us were able to make out where the location actually is. When the sliding doors finally open, we find ourselves staring up at a huge brick-and-mortar building.

Long since abandoned by the looks of it, with the tell-tale signs of, broken windows and vines crawling up the side. The security folks were still with us, and they pointed at us with rifles for us to get out. This is our stop. Let's move it, parted one of the guards. A researcher was also with him, probably one of the doctors. As we made our way to the front entrance, I could make out the name of the building inscribed on a worn-out plaque on the archway. The word penitentiary was clear. The rest is not. This is an abandoned prison. I've already seen my fair share of them, but this had to have been one of the oldest.

I've seen, like it hadn't been used in 40 or 50 years. The researcher undid the lock and chains holding the barriers to the front entrance. When the heavy doors came swinging open, we all got a blast of the musty air inside. The smell of the mold and rust made me sneer as we walked into the darkness. The lobby had cracked tiles, and dead leaves were everywhere. From the lobby, there were multiple hallways to walk down, each with their own security gates. The doctor fumbled for his keys to start unlocking them. As he turned to open it, he finally broke the silence. This is SCP 450, not that the number matters to you. There is a simple task that must be performed here every month. It's real simple and safe, just so long as you follow the rules to the letter. Do well,

and you'll live. You'll never see this place ever again and won't have to think about it as long as you're careful. Break the rules and, well, you'd rather not know what happens. Essentially, you will not be recovered. Is that all understood? We all not. I'm good at. I'm good following rules. Long stints in prison will make you pretty obedient. I was serving 30 years to life for a botched robbery, so I know how to follow directions from guards. The researcher looks at each of our faces before opening the first security gate and escorting us through. The sign above says C block. It's quiet and dark. Even though it is midday, the sunlight that does peak through only gives a marginal amount of light, just enough to see everyone and the adjacent concrete walls,

but not enough to see all the way down the hallway. The doctor continues to talk. Here is the task. You are to simply walk down the end of a hallway, paint a little blood on the sigel, and then walk back. The sigil degrades over time and just requires a touch-up. The most important thing to remember

is how to walk back and forth. A slow speed of no more than 0.25 meters per second must be maintained. And don't make any noises. The sound of 25 decibels could set them off. Them? I thought. What does he mean by that? Are there any questions before we go further?

He stops and pivots to look at us. Another D-Class personnel asks the first question. How do we know how fast we are going? The doctor nods assured Liatis. There are tiles on the floor. I would count at least passing over two of them each second. That's about the speed that's required. The doctor nods assured Liatis.

Anyone else? The D-Class to my right asks, How loud is 25 decibels? The doctor squinted his eyes at him. Not loud at all. A whisper would be pushing it. so no talking if you can help it. I felt satisfied enough to not ask another question.

It seemed simple enough. Get in, don't rush, be quiet, get out, try not to die. One of the security guards behind me hands me a small jar with blood in it and a handful of paintbrushes. You'll carry these for the group. I simply nod. Not like I had a say in it. Not like I had a say in anything since I've been signed over to the foundation. Once everyone was good and quiet, the doctor turned down the hall on the left to a large steel door.

We follow him. The light is barely seeping in from the outside, but it is just enough to make out the black spray-painted words, death row, on the door. The doctor turns the key, and there is a loud click. Everyone, including the doctor, holds their breath as the sound echoes around us. Oh, he continues in a whisper. There's also a time limit. You have 25 minutes to complete it. Get going. The four of us in orange jumpsuits look at one another. The bald guy with a spider web tattoo goes. in first. Cautiously, he steps in and starts counting the tiles to the second, just as the doctor said to do. We watch for a good ten seconds, and seeing that nothing has grabbed him in the darkness, we all follow his lead. The corridor is pretty sparse, but along the walls were cells with rusted bars that went from floor to ceiling. There must have been ten cells on either side, each filled with a darkness that made it impossible to see into. But I could definitely feel something staring back. Too late to turn back now as we passed by the first cell. This was a snail's pace.

At the end of the corridor, I can see a small room with a chair, an electric chair. This must have been the execution chamber. What little light that's available, I can barely make out the dark red sigil smeared in blood along the wall. It looks dry and flaking off. This is just a maintenance job, I told myself, in and out. As we pass by the fourth cell, we start looking at each other anxiously. Nobody had a watch on, so we had no idea how long we'd been in the corridor was. walking. The halfway mark was coming up, but how the hell were we supposed to complete this in 25 minutes?

Maybe there is no work. Maybe this is a sacrifice. Maybe this is where they send all the D-class when they are done with them. The death row location can't just be a coincidence, can it? Then suddenly we see it, an arm sticking out from one of the cell blocks. It looks decayed and nod on. Whatever it is, he wears the same colored jumpsuit as us. Our lead man looked back at us and spoke in a soft voice. Fuck this. I'm not going. Before you could even finish his sentence, he is suddenly thrust against the bars of a cell door. He screams and gasps as black hands of what appeared to be a shadow,

claw at him. One hand grabs the cheek of his open mouth and rips at it like a fish hook going through flesh. He wails as he has pulled apart piece by piece like warm bread. It was a feeding frenzy. The other D-class in the back, pivots and tries to make a run for it back towards the exit. But he too is grabbed and flung against a cell.

He gurgles as he is violently pulled. through the small gap of the steel bars and into the dark confines of the cell. I can hear his bones crack and splinter under his skin as he is yanked through the tight opening. There is a sudden splash of blood across the floor and he is gone. The man pinned against the other cell has stopped screaming as his organs and flesh are ripped off of him and scattered onto the floor. Somehow I am unable to make a sound, too shocked to wail or run. When it finally quiets down, I take a shaky breath. I look to the other D-class person that's left. They are crouched down with hands. over their ears. I tap them on the shoulder, but he only responds in a small whimper. Thankfully,

it isn't loud enough. I give him another firm tap, and he opens his eyes to look at me. We're both scared out of our minds, but we have to continue. We can't waste any more time. I signal him to continue. He nods as I help him up. We still have the blood. We still have time. Now that we know what to expect if we break the rules, we are much more diligent in maintaining our speed and keeping it down. These things, whatever they are, do not like disruptions. It takes an agonizing amount of time, but we finally make it to the end. Both of us walk around the old splintered electric chair and look at the wall with the painted blood in the shape of some strange religious symbol. I hand my partner a paintbrush, and we get to work filling out the areas that have peeled off.

None of us know what this pattern means, but we can both agree that it keeps these things from leaving and getting out. At least that's what we can gather. After about two minutes, We look at each other and are both satisfied with the work. Time to get the fuck out of here. Unfortunately, it's back the way we came at that slow, torturous speed. We start the walk back. It is not long before we hear something. A bubbly deep laughter from one of the cells.

I force myself to keep looking down at the floor. Hey, how are you? You look nice, like fresh fish. Want to come over here? Oh God, it's talking to me. Don't ignore me, cock sucker! Something screams at me from an empty cell. More voices chime in from every direction.

They want us to break. I start to sweat, but stare into the floor like my life depends on it, because it does. I'm going to bust out of here and fuck your wife before I cut out her eyes. Another voice says, the bars on the cell start to rattle with rage, loud bangs echo in the corridor. They are trying to startle us, trying to make us react. A harsh growling voice comes from behind me. You think this place can hold me? You think a little fucking blood on the wall will protect you?

Look at me. help it and I look straight ahead. I see a figure between us and the exit, a small girl with a head wound, bleeding out all over her face and front of her shirt. Her eyes are white as she smiles at both of us before flames erupt across her legs. You let me die, Jeremy. You crashed that car and left me there. You left me. So Sarah? My partner mumbles with wide open eyes. I jerk my head to look at him, but it's too late. He is immediately pulled into a cell just like the others. I shut my eyes to not see it, but I can feel the spatter of misted blood across my face before hearing the wet thud of his body thrown to the floor. The hall erupts into roars and god-awful sounds, while debris is tossed

up and down and across the floor. More jeering from the voices around me, but I keep my head down. More bangs and cracks, but I keep shuffling forward. I pass over a puddle of dirty water and see my reflection as I pass over it. In it, I can see a dozen black figures clean to the ceiling, looking down at me. It's startling, and I almost inhale a gasp. Clasping my mouth shut, however, I make my way forward. I feel hands on my back, cold and groping as I pass by each cell, like they are reaching out for me. It's almost too much to bear as the abuse continues.

I almost want to be taken just to have it stop. Like a hundred voices screaming in my head. Just when it is about to be too much, my hand touches the exit door's handle. Suddenly, it all dissipates. No voices, no noises. Just the quiet drip of a leaky ceiling. The corridor is silent, and the empty cells remain so as well.

Still, I can see the bodies and blood of the others. It's just me now. I completed the task and exited the hallway. I can almost hear a voice as I step out. It almost sounds like, next time. I see the doctor and security guards waiting on me. I hand back the small jar and paintbrush. Did you do it?

The doctor asked. I simply nodded. And the others? He asked again. I slowly shake my head side to side. Hmm, unfortunate, but good job. The doctor turns and leaves me in the custody of security. I have my cuffs put back on, and I'm escorted back to the vehicle, back out the security gate, and back out the front entrance we go.

It started to rain as we shuffle back outside and into the vehicle. The doctor stands out of the vehicle before closing it. By the way, what did you see? What killed them? I looked at him confused. You mean, you don't know? The doctor shakes his head. Nobody but D-Class goes in.

You, you're actually the first one to make it back. Farthest they usually get is halfway after they repaint the wall. So, tell me, what's in the cells? What's the secret to getting through the hallway? I'm shocked. I'm angry. How many people have died doing this job? All sacrifices for the foundation?

Fuck this doctor. Fuck him and his position where he can just throw bodies down into a hallway to be ripped apart, just so he can keep his hands clean. I won't give him the pleasure of an answer. I don't know. I answered with a smirk. Didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything.

I just don't know. The doctor frowns and furrows his brow. I see. Then takes a step back and addresses the security guard. Put him on the next rotation since it was so easy. Yes, sir, the guard replies. No fucking way. Fuck you.

I protest, but I'm pulled back and I feel the butt of a rifle hit me across the face. Everything goes dark, and I fall on my back. Last thing I hear from the doctor before losing consciousness. He'll be more cooperative after a second time. SCP-450 is the death row block of an abandoned federal penitentiary. The name and location of this complex is classified. Distance from entrance to the execution chamber is approximately 166.5 meters. A complex pattern, drawn in human blood, is located on the wall behind the electric chair.

This pattern slowly degrades over time due to normal environmental decay and must be maintained regularly. The cell block is inhabited by what appears to be one or more hostile spectral entities. Attracting the attention of said entities is invariably fatal and may or may not occur due to one of the following criteria. Entering the cell block by any means other than the main door. Moving at a speed greater than 0.25 meters per second, staying in the cell block for more than 25 minutes at a time, entering the cell block more than once every 24 hours, operating any electronic device, any sound louder than 25 decibels. Personnel assigned to maintain the containment pattern are instructed to silently walk. down the center of the main hallway at a slow but steady pace. As it takes approximately 11 minutes

to walk to the execution chamber at maximum safe rate of travel, personnel will have only three minutes to work on the pattern and still have enough time to reasonably guarantee a safe exit from the facility. Auditory and visual hallucinations, including spectral voices, bleeding walls, and poltergeist activity are considered normal. Lack of same is cause for concern. Personnel are encouraged not to investigate any dead bodies, supernatural activity, or rotting remains. SCP 450 is to be kept locked and secured at all times, except for monthly maintenance and cleaning as detailed above. Any civilians or personnel who enter SCP 450 at any other time

are to be considered lost, and no rescue attempts are to be made. Thank you so much for tuning in. If you're listening on Spotify, don't forget to hit that follow button to get notified every time a new episode is released. Also, please take a second to live. leave a rating for the podcast. This is so important to help the podcast grow. Thank you.