Outlast Novelization

by Aalt-Jackal

People were being hurt, and Murkoff was making money. Miles Upshur had plans to gather the evidence that would finally break those bastards, but what he finds waiting for him in Mount Massive is more than he bargained for. Armed with only a camera and his tenacity, would he be able to survive the nightmares fabricated by the minds of broken men?

23. Chapter 23

The Demon and the Ghost

The world stopped. I'm not clear of what happened, or what was going through my head. It might've been the shock, or it could've been the buzzing. I could hear buzzing in my skull, and in my marrow. Everything around me pulsed with a clarity I was unfamiliar with, like I was only now seeing the world without my eyes. Or seeing without that greasy film that coats your eyes. When someone has an out of body experience, they can't get over how clear everything was that they saw. It's the one thing they always remark on, and how surreal the experience was. Like no one's ever died before. As if you could remember dying.

Time slowed, the world ground to a halt. And I found myself recalling my childhood. My house in the mornings, the light coming through windows. The short years I spent with my mom, my dad driving us to the store. School in the fall, the changing colors of leaves on trees. The spring time and the short summers. Playing with the kids in my neighborhood. Friends I lost touch with when I left school, when I graduated. Where were they now?

I fell from this tree when I was a kid. Didn't hurt much, but when I hit the ground I saw a light. For a while I was stunned and confused, and there was this weird taste in my mouth. Sometimes doctors ask if you have a funny taste or smelled something odd, when you've suffered a concussion. It's common in the case of seizures, I think.

The siren continued its call without hitch. It screamed in its loudest voice, but it was muffled. Everything around my head was distant and faint, it was on the other side of a wall, or I was under water drowning. My senses were numbed and my feet wouldn't move. I thought I was turning, but I hadn't budged since the Walrider coalesced within the corridor. The air boiled around its shape - vaguely humanoid - vaporous and distorted. This dark shadow of nightmares, this thing in the dark. The insubstantial mirage was there then gone when I blinked, but I could hear it. Could still make out the chatter of pellets hunting through vents, seeking to punish. Fresh blood oozed over crates, splint spines, bodies twisted in cruel shapes. I sucked in a shallow breath when my body craved air. I had stopped breathing.

It shrieked, and the screams of its slaughtered victims filled my thoughts. Rooms crammed with corpses, flies nesting in sunken eye sockets, bloated guts spilled from jagged flesh. That sound. It wasn't the Walrider screaming, it was the walls around me. Walls that had become a cemetery for the forgotten souls, trying to play modern god. Their aspiration took them so high they touched the sun, burned, then their ashes scattered across the sea. Dissolved. Forgotten. Lost.

That odd taste coated my throat as it closed in. The shape faded out then settled into form, always in flux. Never the same each time I blinked. And then I was back in the green house, wet and cold, scared out of my mind at the sounds in the trees. Warped faces stared through the windows in the brick walls, faces maimed by curious men. They had a purpose, an idea. They recited a choppy phrase to my ears. I was to be with them. I was to be one of them. The patients said the experiments were a conjuring. They were subjected to the cruelty of science, and had become the manifestation of their diseased minds. Then the thing from the dark appeared, the thing that was lurking all along. The apparition that made it all stop, stole away the pain. It came for me and shrieked in my face. The sounds. They were in my ears, in my bones, and in my blood. They followed me, I couldn't shake them. Couldn't run away.

Couldn't escape it.

All at once I was back, staring at it. At death. It was so close I could reach out and touch it. But I didn't. I couldn't.

I began shuffling back, but it was difficult. My muscles had seized and I was standing here, with it in my face as it faded. It was gone, but I could feel it. Feel it watching me. That familiar stab of pain focused in the base of my neck and worked its way up, leeching into my cerebellum. I felt nauseated and choked on a gasp. The idea that I was unable to move was rejected, though I had failed to turn away, to budge. I was about to die.

Then something remarkable happened. I was suddenly facing the hall with the cylinder tanks, the freezer room at the far end. My feet blurred under me when I took off. At first I was baffled, I didn't recall tearing my eyes off that thing. But I picked up on the piercing shrill as the Walrider called. The noise sent static ripping through my brain, and agony pierced my muscles. My shoes slipped in the gelatin blood and I dropped to my knee, nearly tossing the camera. I pushed up on my hand and launched forward, snaring the tanks set aside in the corridor and yanked myself to the corner on my right.

If it touched me I was dead. Nothing survived contact with the Walrider. I didn't know how I broke away, didn't care. The distinct impression that I had recalled some important matter but lost it, lingered in me. A memory that I blotted. It was important but I couldn't focus. Too much was swirling, my senses were distorted as it was.

I cut the corner and took the door on my direct right into the showers, and dashed by bloody stalls and lockers. I chanced a look back unable to identify the threat against the white and red walls, but the air wavered with its presence as it disrupted molecules. I couldn't hide from it, but I could slow it down. As I shot out of the shower room, I caught one of the doors and hauled it shut after me. Without stalling, I swung back and snapped the other door shut with a deafening crack. I backed away raising my camera and glanced to my right and then down, searching for where it would appear next.

Could it go through walls? Had it decided to haunt the hall rather hunt me through the shower?

The nightvision barely picked it up, but I could distinguish arms slipping through the thin space beneath the door as the form clawed. It looked rather off, and I couldn't figure the science behind these machines moving through solid walls. But it wasn't moving through a solid object, it was skimming the surface, finding the easiest path. It couldn't find its way through doors, but it could slide through thin cracks if it was allowed the time.

I ran. It would take it only so long before it was free again, I could shut a few more doors between it and myself before deciding the next action. The sirens were still howling at the entrance of the Morphogenic chamber. I cringed under the din and clasped a hand to the side of me head, as it pierced into my eardrums with icy pain. Had to get through this, had to finish before I keeled over from the migraine. I pulled my hand away, half expecting there to find fresh blood from my ears.

I barely managed to stop myself from slamming into the door on my return. My hands shook as I spun the handle and pulled myself inside. A pristine white floor irritated my eyes as I glanced down, then turned my face to meet the plate on the wall before me. Just a label indicating the Morphogenic Engines direction with an arrow. Another set of doors, the small room opened up into a larger hangar filled with equipment of the facility, massive copper drums with pipes curving out of the tops, and huge control panels lined one wall. Caution strips marked the short portion of a ramp that elevated onto a metal grate, and large machines that had not met their function sat beneath a grated stairway opposite to the control panels. I swung the doors behind me shut, wincing at the reverberation that rattled my head. I needed to stop doing that if I could.

The air smelled fresher in this section of the lab. Due to the doors had been left shut, this would have allowed the air to recycle without the interference of decay. Just an observation. It was painful to breath, the residue of a chemical with no name, something illegal I would bet. If it was meant to kill me, it was the least of my worries.

I sprint across the metal grate, the noise of my shoes echoed into the pipes of the ceiling overhead. I immediately noted the stairs behind the copper tanks, which connected to walkways that lined the stone walls above. Those huge-huge cylinders blocked the one side of the room from the stairs, and some asshole had stacked barrels in the way of the only path. It was a minor obstacle. I tucked the camera to my stomach and climbed onto the barrels, and kept my balance with my free hand on a support beam placed beside the tanks. I braced myself for the inevitable jolt, and used my hand to guide my direction as I swung over. The soles of my shoes stuck on the grate when I came down, but my recovery was quick. Soon I was stumbling around the rail and up the grated steps. The obnoxious tingle of my ribs dug into my side as I reached the first level. I kept going up, winding my way around the rail and hastened up the remaining steps. I coughed as I began panting, and reached my free arm under my side where the sting in my ribs was. I promised — I promise I would sit down for a long time, once I was finished with this. The only way I would be able to rest now is when—

An earsplitting shriek echoed throughout the cavernous room. I couldn't tell if he had entered or if it was from another hall, let alone where it came from. Didn't matter. I toggled with the nightvision, searching for the disturbance it caused but couldn't locate it. The anxiety that the it could be anywhere and I had no idea, sent my heart beating twice as fast. I took the steps three and two at a time, my breath came in sharp gulps and I could taste copper.

None of it mattered. My fingers, my head, my bones. I could take the damage and deal with it in the after math. What I could not deal with, were my guts splattered across the ceiling!

I pulled myself up the rail and reached the highest walkway. The left side looked to be a dead end, but I couldn't see where it led. I charged to the right toward an open door with bright light spilling across the grate. The distortions in the air around my face became prominent. Was it here? Already? I zipped around the corner in the rail racing to the white walls with polished floors beyond. Not gonna get me, you are NOT going to get me! I snatched the handle of the door and kicked myself backwards, pulling the door after me. I whirled about, catching sight of the plate labeling this C Block. The Morphogenic Chamber was in C Block. Beside the panel, a purge chamber. I scraped through the sliding doors as they parted, and managed to hit the sealed door on the opposite end as the metal shielding snapped shut.

Purge chambers for containment. CONTAINMENT. The Walrider would be forced to find a route around. I took some deep breaths despite the chemical that was flushed through the small room. Deal with it later, have a job to finish.

The opposite door opened and I stepped out, checking first if the Walrider was present to greet my arrival. Chiseled hall of limestone, same as when I first entered A Block. Pipes ran the length of the ceiling, vents that cycled the air throughout the rooms. I looked up at a camera on the wall across the tunnels ceiling, as it swung to face the purge doors. I had half a mind to flip it off, but I preferred to stay professional.

A plate on the wall informed that the Morphogenic Engine was to the right, but I checked the left side of the hall first while I had the pause. At the end a strobe light spun above a malfunctioning door, accompanied by the sirens that blasted their obnoxious song. Everything had gone wrong but no one was left alive to care. I didn't. A corpse lay crumpled beside the door. I walked over to check it, film it while I had the camera active. He might've tried to get out through the doorway here but the lock was disabled, or the Walrider reached him first. I shook my head as I turned away.

I hurried through the hall, checking the visor while the fierce light was bearable. I didn't feel the immediate danger but I needed to plan, I remained uncertain what killing 'Billy' would require. How technical it could be. I noted the vents at the ceiling. The rattling in the sewers. The swarm traveled through pipes to access areas blocked by purge chambers. I was working on borrowed time.

More tanks sat on one side of the hall. I rushed by without a glance and reached the open doorway, the heavy stench of sour flesh swirled about as paused at the edge of the sirens din. I had seen most of the room on my approach. The door was open and within, red contrasted the white stone that made up the walls of the room. The usual décor. The constant reminder of what my failure would entail.

I shut the door behind me as I scanned over the butchery. What might've been propane tanks, or tanks of gas had nested in one corner, but that was the only out of place item. One tank lay in the red mess of a person's ribcage, but I couldn't decide if it rolled there during the action or had been lodged there. I glanced to the flashing lights above a door, and that noise… that god damn noise. I did my best to block it as I looked over to the right, and sighed. A security operative lay in the pool of blood on the desks surface, a gun was in his hand. His skull had been splint open, and more red stained down his forearm.

The gun would do me no good, but a wadded page was in his grasp. I took it and hastily angled my camera to record what might've been his final words. If I could, I would tear those sound speakers out of the walls. That noise….

"NOTE to all personnel from Consultant MM08, RUDOLPH WERNICKE. (D&NR)

Do not worship the swarm, nor allow the delusions of the patients to influence your beliefs. Any sentient being based in this technology will be so far superior to us that illusions of godliness will be reasonable.

We have always looked into chaos and called it God. We now are blessed with sufficient power that such belief could destroy us. Do not be tempted. Remember that you are scientists."

In the end I was wrong. Mass Hallucination and mental reprograming had been more feasible than this. This… What Murkoff had done. The patients they were using and conditioning for the Morphogenic Engine, to contract the swarm. Was this what was waiting in the mountains? It was everything Chris Walker had tried to prevent. Even in his insanity, he knew that this was a threat to the world he had been rejected from.

The patients began to worship the Walrider because they could not comprehend its function. They had no hope in gazing upon its truth, and so were humbled by its power. Insert one loony fanatic, Father Martin Archimbaud, and you'll have the beginnings of a cult following. I couldn't blame them. The Walrider had been a phantom curiosity up until Wernicke explained everything. Show a caveman technology, he'll think it's magic - show a modern man magic, he'll think it's technology. Everything had come full circle. I understood what happened here, why it ended here. And my understanding would destroy me.

That noise. I needed to get out of this room, I hadn't much time.

A sliding door bathed in red awaited beyond the desk and the suicide guard, but it was jammed and wouldn't open.

Restricted Area

Authorized Personnel Only

This was the only door that opened, the knob turned easily. I stepped through and quickly shut the door behind me. Another long corridor of white stone and polished floors. I was done with all the white, all the red. At either side of the walkway yellow caution tape warned of the gutters slipping below the floor. I moved forward, listening as the distressed calls faded behind me. A decorative but none functioning cinderblock archway was installed, overhead at either wall, vents pushed recycled air into the hall and my thoughts returned to Billy. He would be searching for me, unless he had given up for the moment. I had no idea what his mindset had been prior to the experiments, only that he seemed mostly coherent in the reports of his caretakers.

The hall curved to the left and I followed at a steady pace trying to get my heart rate to slow. The air was crisp and cool, but my nerves were no good. My shoulders shook with each breath I took. It could've been low blood sugar or blood loss, or all of that. In some vain attempt to distract myself, I reached under my coat to touch where the gash was. The fabric of my shirt was hard and thick, but not even damp.

As the sounds faded at my back, I felt almost peaceful in this section of the tunnel, as though there could be no danger. I had hallucinated the whole affair, meeting Dr. Wernicke and learning of Billy's secret. I tried to fool myself into believing this while dark thoughts lingered in the threshold of my dissolving sanity, whispering that I was to be murdered soon. The recollection caused me to jump when the camera gave its usual chatter.

I came to a large set of reinforced, steel doors that took up the full end of the corridor. As I stepped upon the nano hazard emblem on the floor, small strobes began to flash orange at the corners cautioning of the imminent action. The muffled rasp of the sirens returned, surging through my muscle. When would it end? The hydraulics hissed and a blast of warm air gushed forth, released upon the doors opening. As the doors slide apart I could bear it no longer, and without a glance I flipped off the camera just above my shoulder. I didn't care if Dr. Wernicke saw or not, it made me feel better.

Once the doors had parted fully, I was taken aback in awe. So much, I forgot my feet needed to move. I stepped forward into the apparent control room of the huge chamber, staring at what could only be the engine of the machine. The Morphogenic Engine.

"The assembler, the feed chambers, the precursor molecules. Vague memories of nanotechnology articles I've read online, probably drunk, probably distracted. Not nearly enough to know how to destroy it.

But Billy is the center of it. Find him. Kill him. End this."

I let out a barely audible "Ah," as the moment caught up to me. I wrote down a hasty note and began to search frantically for a way to stop the feed, or a switch labeled in a cliché fashion Kill Switch. Wernicke hadn't been the most helpful bastard when it came to destroying his out-of-control creation, but it might not be my purpose here to kill Billy. I was doing a pretty thorough job of distracting the fuck, if he didn't gut me first

Did Billy detect my intentions? Or did Wernicke warn him?

Monitors displayed images of MREs, brain scans of the hapless victim and the monster. Long desks lined with monitors displaying nothing more helpful than password prompts and blue screens, while every other monitor seemed to be locked in 'error mode'. I tried alt, control, delete, and messing around with other keys on the keyboards, hoping for insight or a prompt. I doubt it would have done much, they were not directly linked to the engine. They only monitored the systems, made sure nothing was going wrong, that everything was 'functioning.' But this was vague guess work on my part.

The tall stacks of computers packed with customized software stretched up the walls, pushing off hot gusts of air with the effort of processing the equations of the Engines functions. Screens labeled the basic structures of the assembly, but nothing to demonstrate the methods for shutting it all down.

As I rushed around hunting, my shoe caught on the thick cables weighted to the grate. I caught myself on one of the terminals and leaned over, trying to collect myself. Above, a black screen sputtered and flashed as it distorted with errors, my eyes lost focus as I took a deep breath. There's still time, take your time. Get it done right on the first go. There would be no second chances. I made another pass over the computers, the keyboards, a few files I scattered on the desks but the pages only detailed the last print outs of the Engines readings. Nothing how to end it. The anxiety crawled under my skin. How much more time did I have? Where was Billy waiting?

On a side counter surrounded by thin wires from the terminal, I plucked up two batteries. Thank god. I took out the long dead one and put a fresh one in. It was at full power. Small miracles come through, again.

A clear door was nestled in the room's forefront, the high walls comprised of Plexiglas blocking off the Morphogenic Engines primary chamber. I half expected the doors to hold fast as I moved to them, but the hiss of air breezed across my face as they parted. The Engine, the Morphogenic Engine. The only way I would destroy it, was by understanding it. It seemed impossible.

I guide myself down the steps, my free hand trailing the gray rail while I used the camera to document the chamber. Beneath the engine the air is cool, a sort of lull in the warmth that was expelled by the monstrous contraption overhead. It was massive, extending into the cavern ceiling above, nearly reaching to the walls carved out throughout the chamber. The bulbous and cancerous Engine was vaguely featureless, resembling a dodecagon. Too many sides. Some of its flat panels pressed out gray vapors, while others glittered lights. Packed with technology, software primed for processing and running the machine, the life support, the everything that was Project Walrider. Large screens spread around the base displayed images of pulse rate, metabolic functions, cerebral scans. And those images. The images from the theater in full bloom, so perverse and cruel I couldn't bear to stare at them. Small clear pods surrounded Wernicke's machine, each is set on its own plastic seat with wires and machinery tapering from the backsides. All empty.

Correction. All but one.

"From Billy's patient reports, he ought to be twenty-three years old. He looks like at least fifty years of rough road, pain scratched deep into what I can see.

Killing you would be an act of kindness."

Tubes and wires had been attached into his stomach and shoved down his throat, rigs that looked like IV drips were inserted into his shoulders, neck, and sides transferring blood or performing dialysis functions. His arms and legs bent back, away from the delicate hardware attached throughout his body. His eyes were open, dead murky eyes fixed on the twisting images of the screen above. This was the price for God like capabilities. A body that was in all respects dead to the world.

I turned away lowering my camera and rubbed at my eyes, trying to focus. There was not enough time to wander around, blindly hitting whatever looked vital. If the Walrider was in a lulled state, it needed to stay there until I could go to work. How could I shut down this massive nightmare, before he realizes what I've done?

There was a panel with a hand print beneath the screens of vital readings, but pressing it did nothing. Beside it was a folder I quickly began to sift through. Aha.

MURKOFF PSYCHIATRIC SYSTEMS

MORPHOGENIC ENGINE CHAMBER MAINTENANCE SHEDULE To avoid patient injury, the Morphogenic Engine Life Pod requires a daily inspection of all Vital Systems.

VITAL SYSTEM 1: The enriched oxygenated perfluorocarbon from LIFE SUPPORT FLUID RESERVOIR must be continually flushed and replaced through the course of the patient's treatment. (Note that O.P. also supplies anesthetics, any interruption in supply will cause sufficient pain to the patient to potentially disrupt the experiment.)

VITAL SYSTEM 2: Electric supply is supplemented and ensured by the SUBLAB GENERATOR. Proper fueling and maintenance of the Sublab Generator should be confirmed hourly.

VITAL SYSTEM 3: In the case of catastrophic loss of Vitals Systems 1, and 2, the life pod FAILSAFE will engage, maintaining localized minimum life support functions until technicians can arrive. DISABLING FAILSAFE WILL RESULT IN IMMEDIATE PATIENT TERMINATION.

It seemed possible now. Cut off his lungs, take out the power, then shut him down. I could do this. I can get this done.

I wrote the basics down in the tattered back of my small notepad. I knew what to do, but where did I do it? I gave the chamber a careful scan, viewing only the walls grayed by the unnatural heat. The lights of the engine pulsed and flickered, further aggravating my thoughts. I jogged around the machine, and came upon a large window with a patient staring through. His arms ravaged by experiments, his face scared, he pawed at the glass not seeing me. Maybe he couldn't see. Behind him the white hallway gave way to black stains, the lamps revealed numerous Plexiglas doors. From what I could make out, they all appeared to be open. Patients that were killed? Or was the gore leftover from the doctors as result of their victims escape? I didn't care. As callous as that was, I just didn't give a fuck anymore. Around the backside of the Engine, one other pod was filled with black fluid and tissue. A failed test subject.

Not far from it, light drew my attention to a set of doors with clean windows. A plate on the wall was lit up with the lamps in the next hall. It read Life Support Fluid Reservoir. They couldn't have spelled it out clearer. I ducked through the door, and as always made certain it was shut firmly behind me. Blood splatters and more of Murkoff met me in the extending corridor. For a moment there I was worried I had gone the wrong way. Once away from the Engine and its overworked processors, tremors began working their way through my muscles as the temperature dropped. Or, was it the presence of the Walrider? He couldn't be nearby. Unless he was ahead, waiting in a vent.

I checked the NV but there was nothing. Before I began forward, I reached behind me and assured myself the door was shut. Up along the walls nested the primary mode of passage for the swarm, vents that would allow it to reach me on my return trip, if it wasn't already present. The air felt calm, stale but calm. I reached the set of doors around the halls bend, and paused to let the camera cease its malfunction. The picture in the visor died for a moment and I closed my eyes, feeling the sinking sensation as anguish chewed on my mind. Give it a moment, just a glitch.

I gave the camera a few gentle pats until the visor flashed into focus, blinding me briefly with the green tinge. Damn. I pushed one door open and entered a large cavernous room filled with vats of a clean fluid. It was vaguely reminiscent of an aquarium, with the soft gleam of lamps angled from the walls and ceiling. That same wave of comfort swept through me, only disrupted minutely by the pulse in my blood. Drums labeled saline or perfluorocarbon lined the walls, some stacked on carts. Some smaller series of tubs ran along walls into the reservoir channel, where the massive tanks filled with the lucid fluid sat in rows. Huge tubes were directed down into the tops of the massive tanks, while the other ends were angled into the cement walls of the chamber. These large tubes were everywhere, in various sizes, in organized series directing their flow into tanks, or under the metal grates surrounding the tanks. Back up flows, filters, diluting tanks. My head was spinning as I took it all in. All of this.

"This is Billy Hope's lungs. His liver. His life support. A machine the size of a football stadium to keep one lunatic alive. Fuck it all. Break it all. He has to die."

I leaned on the rail as I put away the notebook and pulled my camera from its pack. I closed my eyes for a moment and pressed the remaining fingers against my temple. Had to keep moving, can't stop. Billy could be anywhere and I hadn't even started. I couldn't delude myself with the idea that he had no idea where I was.

Beside where I stood a large black stain stretched on the cement floor near the reservoir, near the stairs I was to take. An unfortunate worker? Or someone that had only gotten this far with the scheme to stop the chaos. I couldn't shake the impression that the further I dived, the less human these markers were becoming. If I held my breath and stared through the visor, the remains were nothing but a massive kool-aid stain. Oh yeah.

I took a breath and let it out. Copper and rot. Death. I moved onto the grated walkway that bent around the massive vats. If I kept moving I could block it, I wouldn't have a choice before long. I shivered, though the air here must have some heating, the clear liquid looked frigid. It was a tinge of emerald, or blues, due to the minerals that might have been intermixed to diffuse their properties. A lot of science and math I couldn't comprehend. My head…. Why was I trying to make sense of all this?

More pipes, tubes, insulated cables. Everything devised for the machine, for the thing it kept going. A plate on the wall notified that this was, indeed Block D. This seemed like some important detail, but I couldn't recall why. The Life Support Reservoir was in D Block. Fantastic. Those that were slaughtered here were no less dead than those in the other four Blocks.

I reached the end of the walkway and set eyes on more vague stains of the former masters of the Engine, plastered across the floor and metal wall beside the stairway that twisted upward. It connected to a catwalk that crossed beside a Plexiglas room featuring screens with scans, and details of the patient were visible from my position as jogged toward the stairs. I winced when I set my hand upon the rail, the sticky remains of some organ had deflated over the yellow metal staining it orange. I swallowed at my dry tongue and gazed up as I began, forcing myself to take the steps two at a time. I cleared the top and twisted to the side room that must have controlled the chemicals distributed in the life support vats. Green screens flashed with pulse rates, others scrolled walls of text. I touched the Plexiglas to steady myself as I stared in, mind racing. The scream of the Walrider became a distant echo in my memories, but always present, always haunting. The realization that Billy had a heartbeat nearly made my thudding heart stop.

The doors into the control room were open, and inside was very little to aid my mission. A few documents with shortcuts through the menus and print outs of the patients status prior to his murderous rampage, along with common chemical formulas. The monitors demanded passwords, their constant drama, while offering clips of data that would regulate proper flow of nutrients uninterrupted. It was all self-sustaining, as Dr. Wernicke had put it. I had a small surge of optimism for some much desired guidance, when I located a thin folder left out. But it was just another of one Wernicke's, Frankenstein's Monster excerpts. What the fuck was his deal?

From the personal records of Dr. Wernicke.

"FRANKENSTEIN, or The Modern Prometheus" by Mary Shelley, published anonymously in 1818.

Chapter 4, excerpt –

"Learn from me, if not by my precepts, at least by my example, how dangerous is the acquirement of knowledge, and how much happier that modest man than he who aspires to become greater than his nature allows."

Dr. Wernicke should have stuck with his garden and cats. He was brilliant, I'd give him that much. Senile, but brilliant. Oh fuck, my head.

I left the room taking the unexplored route open on my left. There was little to note, the grate was bare of tools or materials. The lights were dimmed, this helped me focus to some degree. It was only my steps echoing across the distance of the chamber, I constantly checked over the vats scanning the visor for distortions. The battery was holding up, which I decided was solid indication that I was alone but I wouldn't depend on my muddled observations. Overhead, a distinctive blue pipe extended, a main flow, for something. It T'd off at the walkways end, one end was capped off and the other attached to the wall at the other side. The catwalk took a right, directly to what I would bet was the large master valve in the midst of the vats main flow. I secured my camera as I walked up to it and took the handle. Behind the wheel was the warning DO NOT TURN VALVE. Fuck you, I'm gonna turn this valve.

I braced myself, locking my heels in the grate and clamped my teeth together as I forced it. The wheel didn't give easily despite its fresh appearance but once it shifted, I kept at it until the damn thing couldn't be forced further anymore. I dropped to my knees hanging onto the wheel with my palms and panted, the black dots pulsed in my eyes as my heart pumped in my chest. Almost there, one down, what was next?

The pipe gave an eerie hiss when the fluid flow was cut off, and a high pitched shrill echoed somewhere that was not far enough away. Billy must know now what I was planning. He'll try and intercept me!

I took time to think back, check my notes. My hands trembled as I produced the notepad. Had to calm down, there was no hurry. None at all. Lying to myself didn't work well, and I wound up ripping one of the pages as I tried to steady my hands. Needed to cut the power off, that will initiate the emergency failsafe and after that I need to just hit the switch. Just keep it together a little longer, we're almost there.

I stuffed the notebook back in its pocket, my index finger was bleeding from something I'd done but couldn't recall what in my panic. I shoved myself to my feet and began running. Distance! Need distance to keep away from it. As I hustled back to the winding stairs, I heard a somber howl clatter across the chiseled stone. The lights fluctuated, or I was seeing things. That hissing whine, the resonance of a piercing scream hit me as my vision blurred. Something that ground between realty and nightmares was closing in fast, and even without the camera I could mark its heading. It was levitating above the vats, headed directly for me.

No you will not! I skipped down the steps of the walkway and grabbed the rail rather continue down the remaining steps, couldn't lose any more time. I felt the hair on my neck stand on end as I climbed over the rail and hopped off between the vats. The entity shrieked overhead, as it gave chase or averted course. I couldn't discern the mobility of the swarm, nor could I chance pinpointing it without my camera. It was purely instinctual I think, or something similar. It could cut straight over the vats as I weaved between them, but if it didn't touch me I would be fine. I could outrun it.

The doors were ahead. My shoes stuck somewhat on the dried blood across from them, the incident nearly caused me to fall when I jerked my feet free. I didn't have time to reflect how morbid that was, my hands were already dragging me beside the blue barrels as I forced myself along. This was getting to be too much. My skin was rubbing on something in my chest, and the sensation weighted my feet down. Not even the reminder of the outcome present if I stopped seemed to phase me. I was losing steam.

I smashed my forehead on the door when I leaned over, struggling to make the knob turn as I tried to walk through the gray metal. Somehow, I did manage to get the portal open and slip through, and slam the door on the warped vapor without further trauma to my body. But I did have trouble dislodging and continuing on with the task. Each ragged breath I took ached in me, and all through me. I could scarcely believe I was still standing.

The Walrider gave a hiss as it must have begun struggling under the door. I backed away and fumbled for the camera, and checked the NV feed. The visor distorted and flashed but I could make out the vapor dragging itself through the thin crease.

There would be no purge chamber between here and the Morphogenic chamber. It would not stop until I was dead.

I spun away and made my legs move. I kept a tight hold on the camera as I breezed through the next set of doors. Two minutes, less. Needed to find the next area, the power Sub lab. Had to stop the power and kill him!

The lights of the chamber flashed, the intensity stung my eyes for a moment as I raced around the Engines cavern hunting for a sign, a direction. I sifted through my thoughts. What doors did I see when I was searching for the reservoir? There was nothing but the patient behind the window, life support pods, and the few stairs leading into the control base.

When I rounded the Engine, I noted the irritating strobes flashing near the top of the chamber. I hurried to them, the stairs coming into focus through the steam puffed out by the machine. They were hidden beside an unmarked copper tank, and I could make out the set of doors atop the level. All this I had missed on my initial pass. I'd be stuck up there once the Walrider came through, but it was the only lead I had. That had to be it!

I hissed at myself as I reached the stairs, all this running and rough movement. This was everything a doctor would tell me NOT to do. Later. Later I would deal with it. Maybe when I was finished Wernicke would take a look at my injuries? Hah. I'd trust 'Dr.' Trager over him any day.

The plate beside the stairs leading UP read Sublab Generator. Really? Heading upstairs didn't seem sublab, but I couldn't argue with it. I pulled myself along the rail, juggling between holding the camera to my face and using my bad arm to jerk around corners. It didn't help my side much but the muscles in my legs were aching, my blood sugar content was nada and I was teetering at my limit. When I stopped, if I paused, I would die. No second chances. Just pain and the void. I didn't want that. I wouldn't accept that!

Move-move-move! Faster-faster-FASTER! I could hear the sounds of the Walrider on the floor, hunting for my path. If it didn't know where I was headed it would figure it out shortly.

Computers lined the right of the level as I reached the top stairs, but they were nothing helpful. The obnoxious strobe was overhead as I ducked to the doors. That scraping yowl crashed through my eardrums, it sounded close. I hauled one door open and checked back, just as the ghostly figure materialized on the NV. FUCK! I jerked the metal door shut, swung around, and exhaled.

A stack of barrels impeded my progress. I couldn't shove them out of the way, but there was just enough room to squeeze between. Meanwhile, the swarm screeched as it clawed under the door. I doubt it would have trouble reaching me around the barrels.

Upon reaching the other side, I took in a few tight gasps of air, and put as much power into my dash as I could manage. Another obstacle of large tanks sat in the corridors center, or near center. I swept around them and met with blinding white lights blazing around the doors just beyond. I was still staring into the NV and only saw the door, left ajar, and blasted into the next room. My knee caught the edge that was left shut and I tripped, falling to my shoulder. I tumbled before I could put my feet under me, and whipped about half crawling back to the door. I shoved it closed and leaned on it a moment as I choked on my breath. I wasn't sure if the Walrider had reached me yet, didn't care. I had a mild limp from smashing my knee on the door, but I hastily walked it off. It stung like a bitch and my leg had trouble holding my weight, but they were the only thing keeping me alive

I ran to the middle of the chamber and appraised my surroundings. The air was warm, almost unbearable in my stiff coat. It was difficult to make out my surroundings, due to the steam caused by condensed air formed when the cool and warm air clashed. It must've been caused after the valve shut off. If water wasn't cycled in to cool the software of the Engine it would burn up. That would take too long if it could manage to kill Billy. I coughed at the steam, it was thickening.

Where was I going? Sublab! Where was the damn sublab? As I moved around I could identify tarps covering stacks of pallets and materials, the full dark expanse of the hanger… and another set of stairs leading up.

Up again! At least when I came back through, I'd be going down. Needed distance though, going up a set of stairs made me a sitting duck. I would burn energy and the Walrider presence didn't seem hindered by these limitations. Not only that, but the stairs were endless! My legs were beginning to ache and the pain in my side was becoming a hot swell of agony. As I continued, losing track of how many flats I passed, the air thickened with heat. Sweat seeped into my shirt and ran into my eyes, I wanted to wipe my face but I couldn't manage the command. Just a few more feet, one more set of steps, then it'll be leveled platforms. A little further.

It felt like a lie every time I chanted it, each corner I turned there were more stairs up and up. Up and Up and Up! Until they swallowed up the light and I had to rely on the camera as I made the desperate climb. My calves burned, it was becoming impossible to lift one foot after the next to the succeeding step. I was on hand and foot, by the time I reached the end. The sharp clarity of light startled my stupor, and I dropped to my knees when I reached the topmost level of the catwalk.

My breath was labored and uneven, and my eyes couldn't focus on the large gap where the floor should have been. My delirious mind struggled to make sense. I had all but forgotten what I was doing, where I was going. While stranded in the fever, only one thought was screaming through, scrambling my brain matter like a hot bullet. The angry shriek of the Walrider as it skewered the distance. Too close, it was too CLOSE!

I dragged my body up and over the yellow railing. Distance! Distance from the Walrider. I needed the distance to jump! I stuck the camera strap in my mouth and pressed my back against the cool metal, it hurt but I wasn't far enough back. I couldn't get far enough back. Was the Walrider clawing at my spine yet? Would it rip it free? Would I feel it?

My feet whirled under me as I made the full sprint for my life. There would be no repeats this time, I would hit the other side and keep going. No stopping. No quitting. Not until one of us was dead!

The hounding noise of sirens cut through, they somehow found me so high up. I could picture my body, an obscure stain on polished stone. Bones protruding, teeth scattered. I don't want to die. Muscles deflated like spoiled fruit.

Red flashed through my eyes when I hit. Oh god, oh shit…. The pain gushed through my chest, and red mist scattered under my chin. The camera clattered a few feet away, but it was staying where it stopped and would not roll back this time. My feet kicked under me struggling to lock the grooves of my toes into the grate. That sound! Where was that noise coming from?! I dug my mangled fingers tips into the gaps in the floor and heaved myself forward, groaning at the pain. My vision swam as I crawled towards the camera. Everywhere, the lights seemed to be dimming.

MILES! UP! KEEP MOVING!

For a short span I didn't hear the Walrider. Couldn't sense my body as I dragged onward. I felt nothing. Only the ringing in my bones as I staggered to the camera. It was heavy in my hand as pushed myself upright and continued forward. I picked up the pace though I can't recall any of this. All I could feel repeating in my thoughts was distance. Needed distance. Nothing has changed. Nothing has changed. Move.

I pulled up the NV as the path to my left darkened. It came to a wall, forcing me to whirl around and dash into the gloom absorbing the tunnel. My senses began to clear a fraction and I felt the Walrider, its fury projected off it in waves. The pain in my skull returned, but my feet refused to stop moving. I wasn't thinking about escape, my focus was on that horrible screech. How dark it was without the light, how comforting that was. All of these repetitive thoughts, a motion, a sway, autopilot. I would be dead if it hadn't switched into gear. My feet were moving under me, but I don't know how fast. Would I be able to outrun death?

I stumbled around a stack of bags on something hard, something solid. It was getting hard to perceive my whereabouts. The dark was penetrating, the dark hugged close to the range of the NV as the power began to die. Even the dark could not save me now. My feet slipped in red, but I remained upright and pressed on, gaining speed. I don't know how this was possible, couldn't ponder it. The Walrider was not far behind calling with its inhuman voice. The shrill cut over the stone as it sliced through my thoughts, the sensation merciless to the swirling mess of my scattered mind. Was it calling for me? I couldn't answer.

The corridor turned left through another redundant archway of cinderblock. I must have been moving too quickly, I sprawled across the cart parked beside the wall. I pushed myself around it and held steady. I forced what energy I had available into my legs, and saw at last the burning light of a door ahead. A purge chamber. Did it still work? Was it open? It didn't matter. If I could keep on my feet until I reached it, then that would be enough.

The light that was my greater foe had become my salvation.

The doors whooshed open and the stale odor of chemical and sickness poured over me. Once inside I toppled to my knees, the doors hissed shut behind me cutting off the Walrider. It knew not to enter here. I glanced back its way, though the secondary lead doors refused visibility of it. I kept my eyes locked on the metallic coating as the pumps decontaminated the air, and the doors across from me opened. I waited, watching, refusing to move. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to.

So much left to do. Had to keep going. I repeated it in my head. I wasn't done. I would never be done. There was more I could do, so much more I had left to do. I swallowed and wiped the dampness away from my lips.

My hand came back with fresh blood.

It would be all right. Keep moving, outrun death. I used the edge of the door to drag myself to my feet and kept the camera in my hand. That humming was present, but there was no way the swarm could be here. I poked my head from the doorway as I leaned on the frame, my body felt too heavy. There was no shrieking, and it was then that I couldn't decide which sounds for certain came from the Walrider.

It wasn't here. For now, I was safe. That's all I needed to focus on. I stepped out and hesitated. The lights were out across the lower level, but what lamps did work revealed yet more stairs.

This place, have I mentioned it? Could go fuck itself.

But I had time. The Walrider couldn't access this room unless there were pipes, unless there were vents. Unless there was a 'work around'. I used the camera to search the steel plated walls. Might be lead, it would prevent radiation contamination. Did the Morphogenic Engine use radiation? It must have. I didn't want to consider the long term effects.

I took the steps slowly, one at a time. I didn't feel rushed, didn't feel encroaching doom or death snapping at my neck. Everything was calm and normal and I could resume deluding myself to the illusion of safety. There was nothing here, nothing that could harm me short of an unfortunate tumble. My strength was at its limit, I couldn't push myself further. Not even the promise of death could persuade my sluggish limbs.

E Block. The blocks didn't matter. A Block. B Block. C Block. B Block was the exit, wasn't it? Where had that gone?

My toe caught the last step and I collapsed to my knees. It wasn't a far fall, but it jarred my side and I hissed through my teeth. When I looked down, there were wet red specks on the cameras grimy side. It was okay. Didn't mean it was the end of the world. I had worse before, in worse conditions.

Except there had been doctors, and they knew what they were doing. I wasn't dying, it only felt like I was dying. I wasn't dying now. I was going to get through this. I just had to STAND UP!

"Please." I adjusted myself on my knees and lifted, raising my camera arm and looped it over the yellow rail beside me. Once steadied and the noise faded a bit in my ears, I rocked, sliding my foot and angled my body. "Get up." It took some effort, some coaxing, but I braced my arm against the rail and pushed up on my feet until I was standing.

On the one side of the room was a terminal set up with computers, the irritating blue screens gleamed in welcome as I crossed the grate towards them. On the counter sat a forgotten coffee mug, filled halfway with black goop. What a tragedy. I put my hand on one of the chair backs and slid it out. That chair was incredibly soft, I can't remember a softer chair. I leaned on my good side and set the camera in my lap, but made sure to keep my swollen hand locked in the strap. It wasn't going anywhere. I just… needed a moment. A pause to collect myself, whatever of that was left. Wait for the Walrider to find me if necessary. Just a moment. Let the pain subside and I'll be ready.

My head drooped and the world faded away. If I never found my way back, then that would be fine as well. But I didn't believe I would be that lucky.

---

It's very important how much Miles is pushing himself to get his done.

Ps. Hope everyone has a nice 'Miles' voice established for his dialogue. I'm not telling you what I think he sounds like, or what I think he looks like. He's a man in a coat. And we share a common taste in shoes. Love my shoes. I wear them to work