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?

24. Chapter 24

Morphogenic Engine

"The Engine. The Morphogenic Engine. It gets in my head like a song you can't stop humming."

The air is cool and fresh, filled with the scent of fallen rain. Dusk is fast approaching and the lights from the lamp posts burn with a clarity I'm not accustomed to. I take a breath smelling the moist soil, pine, soggy leaves. I stare at the edifice before me, my adversary, a world of untold horrors, consuming nightmares as they manifest in fractured minds. I couldn't know any of this staring at the covered windows, the compliant walls. The wind picks up and I pull the collar of my coat closer to my neck.

That sense of foreboding returns. The place was unnatural, but I couldn't decide how. It was just a tall building of brick and wood, with the mountainous region backdrops. The tall buildings thin spires stretched high overhead into the heavens, where men once flew to touch the sun. It was hard to imagine the warmth of the sun with the chilled air swarming. In my ears was a humming. It had always been present, unending and livid with cadence. But I had ignored it. Ignored it like I had ignored my instincts about this terrible place. Something was in the air, a charge, a warning. When did it become so thunderous in my ears? Or was that my heartbeat?

I ran my thumb along the inside of my palm counting my fingers. When I reached the fourth digit I turned my head down and stared at my shoes. It buzzed in my bones, until my outer extremities were numb. My skin and muscles felt hot and cold all in the same sensation. It was too much. Or was it the sound? That persistent din, rising above the still forest and jagged mountains that surrounded me. Driving into my skull until I could hear nothing but the booming howl in my ears. I felt my consciousness waver, it was impossible to stay upright. Where did that sound come from? Who was making that noise?! Why?! Why did it follow me!?

My lips pulled back over my teeth as my jaw clenched. Why? Why any of this? Moisture rolled down my cheeks, a few drops hit my coat turning the brown into a black spot.

A sudden presence is at my back. I could hear his breathing, soft but ragged. I jerk my head up terrified to turn, frightened by what would be there, what I would see. But the fear fades when the actions fails to come, and once again I was staring at the Engine of nightmares. Mount Massive Asylum.

"Little ghost." The voice crooned behind me. "Little ghost. Time to wake up."

My eyes open a crack and I found the edge of my face pressed into my bloody shoulder. Where Trager had clipped me. The fabric of my coat felt sticky against my cheek, though the blood had dried hours ago. I exhaled slowly letting myself reacquaint with the pain, my reluctant return to the muggy and distorted world I had come to inhabit. A ghost to pragmatism. It took a brief moment for my mind to catch up, reload the most recent events. What had I been doing? It was painful to recall. How long had I been unconscious? Enough to help me carry on. I had no choice, there was no telling where Billy was. I would get moving and leave the nightmares far behind.

The air felt cold and my shoulders shook. Needed to move. Needed to get up.

As I used my hand to brace my body up and leaned forward, I looked to the sheet of paper set on the computer desk beside the keyboard. It was a single page, stained with a ring of coffee. I focused on it reading through the lines over and over, even when I had it memorized.

Please find attached the "Permission to Proceed" form for patient William Hope, of the Murkoff Charitable Psychiatry program at Mount Massive Hospital in Colorado (USA). The form is standard, and all relevant lines have been signed. It appears Billy is unaware of his mother's recent guided cardiac arrest. He is submitting to the experiment with the understanding (unfounded) of financial remuneration to his mother and a charitable contribution to her church.

Wernicke, having read the boy's dream reports, believes he has enormous therapeutic potential.

Was Billy's 'success' as an experiment, because he refused to die? I couldn't say. He took the therapy they gave him, he bought their bullshit, and now he and his mother were no better.

Damn you Murkoff. Damn you for this. You reap what you sow, now choke on it.

A drop of water stained the page, and I quickly rubbed the dampness from my face. Carefully, I folded the sheet up and inserted it into a clean space of the notebook. Not as evidence, I'm not sure what to call it.

I didn't bother to zip the pocket shut. I pressed my hands to the terminal as I straightened my back, working the stiffness from my muscles and feeling that piercing tingle in my ribs. My feet felt firm under me but my heart was aching. I was hollow and lost, despite the resolve that had solidified in me, for what must be done. One task left to resolve, then I could wash my hands of this place.

Aside from the alcove with the desk of computer terminals, there was no other space to explore, but for a short catwalk beyond the desks. The grate extended out above the cavernous expanse of E Block, below extended the catwalks and paths I had dragged my broken body up. The present lamps anchored to the walls gleamed with ferocity, I squinted my eyes against them as I stared out over the open gap I had thrown myself across. The pain flared through my chest and I exhaled that stale coppery taste. It barely registered in me that I had been up here for god knows how long, unconscious and Billy had an abundance of time to finish me off. My dire state was somehow lost to my sense of self preservation, or maybe I was too focused on the humming of the generator. I told myself Billy was weakened when his anesthesia was cut off, I had the advantage. He was forced to wait. Bide his time and wait for my return, and that was when I would fear for my life. That was when I would run. When that eerie shriek reached me. Until then.

Until then….

I checked through the cameras feed to view what was visible in the thick fog gathering. The Morphogenic Engine must have been overheating, that's the only explanation I could conclude for the condensation. I bit my lip as the image in the visor flashed. The power in the camera itself was getting low, and that could further contribute to its failure. But there wasn't much more of this to endure. Another white lie to keep me going.

The catwalk ended beside metal cabinets built into a cement shed, which extended from the floor somewhere below and up into the ceiling overhead. This was it, it had to be this. The generator for the Engine. I was a bit shocked that it wasn't more impressive, but perhaps I was only seeing the surface of it. There would be a panel, a door to open and access the wires. I secured the camera as I fumbled with the other hand, it was difficult to see but I attributed that to the steam. One panel had a set of hinges along the crease in its side. This was it. There was no visible latch so I just gave the panel a good smack and the door popped open, allowing access to several large bundles of cables hooked into a transformer. Which ones did I pull?

It was always a good policy to start with the middle of anything, if you're not certain. I took the middle bunch and put my other hand up. It shouldn't spark if I was careful, and don't hold it too tight. I winced as I snapped the clamp free. Nothing happened. Good. I popped the rest free with reckless abandon. The connection cut, a soft whir faded throughout the expanse of the chamber.

Sirens chime warning, the cavern groaned, dying with the loss of power. The experiment would perish, and the howl of something more rose up among the catwalks. I couldn't decide if the echoing call was the machine weakening, or the thing it kept alive. I stood at the rail listening, as I poked my thumb into the cut in my coat sleeve. Caused when Trager had endeavored to take my head off.

It was eerily silent, and wondered if at long last Billy would locate my position. There was no doubt in my mind that I could reach the purge chamber before he reached me, but there was nothing. No scream, no rippling distortions in the steam, no malevolent presence. Only the soft chatter of the generator as it sputtered into silence. I spun around and began my way back.

That could have been it. The memo did warn a possible interruption in the experiment, if sufficient distress was introduced. The life support fluid and the anesthesia had been disabled, and Billy seemed unable to reach me despite my exhaustion. Maybe cutting the power had been enough to stop him.

I would still disable the Fail Safe. That was the only assured way to terminate the Walrider swarm. But that would be a simple matter once I reached the Morphogenic chamber. It remained a ways on the other side of the facility, and I wouldn't gamble that Billy wouldn't be waiting on the other side of purge doors when they opened.

My feet stumbled when I moved off the last step and crossed to the open doors, and the light within. The purge doors gave a soft hiss as they shut, and I leaned on the wall as the mist filled the small space. I was ready to bolt when the doors opened, my muscles were not ready to resume, but I wouldn't stop. I had to get around and keep going.

When the panels scraped open, there was no shrill hiss to greet me, no vaporous form lingering beside the doorway. I dithered, before I peered out with the camera. I had to change the battery, but the replacement was full on power. Enough to grant passage out of here.

Nothing was there. I made my slow trek through the corridor, unable to decide if there was this much blood when I first came through. The pain in my skull intensified, I muttered something to myself. I was trying to coax myself to keep moving. It wasn't much further, and then I could puke and pass out if I needed that. I doubt it'd get me away from the pain for long.

Despite the heaviness in my gut, my pace quickened. Maybe that was it. Maybe disrupting the life functions of Billy stopped the swarm. It was too good to be true but I was making progress, as long as I didn't let my guard down. I didn't need to get ahead of myself and fall into a trap. That's happened to me too many times.

The end of the corridor came into view and I slowed my pace to gaze out, straining my eyes to see through the blazing light in the damn visor. Nothing to indicate the presence, no sound. All was calm. The visor did flash but it just did that. I clasped a hand to my eye, that impossible pain. Why my right eye? Once I was moving again I could block it. But why?

As I began forward I hear it, very close. That awful taste coated me throat, something about seizures. And a light. He wasn't gone yet! Where was it coming from?! I spun about and saw the wavering ripples coalescing above the open expanse across from the catwalk, skimming towards me. Shit. Shit! My foot caught on the rung of steps that elevated up to the grated walkway. For god sakes Miles, PICK UP YOUR FEET!

I shoved the knuckles of my camera hand into the gaps in the grate and pushed myself up, stumbling to get onto my soles. Had to cut the corner, it was going to cut me off. Gotta jump! Secure the camera! Gonna— jump— secure the camera!

The edge of the walkway was under my feet and I launched off into open air. I had no idea where I put the camera, couldn't care in the moment. It didn't feel like I had enough momentum behind me when I jumped, but—

I gave a sharp yelp when I was torn out of mid leap and dragged backwards. I couldn't overcome the terror that choked me, now that I was suspended high-high above a hard floor without a solid surface to latch onto. And in so much pain! My spine was somehow being flossed between my ribs. I gagged and whimpered, Christ, the unnatural sensation! My feet jerked beneath me and dangled, I couldn't feel my toes. My arms pin wheeled out from my body as I tilt backwards, disorientated by the violent movements I was being spun in. The camera! My mind automatically locked onto that. I felt the cameras weight in my upper arms sleeve. I found my camera! It was safe!

I snapped around and suddenly the apparition was at my face. It was expressionless from what my distorted vision could make out, but I could FEEL it sneer. Its anger. I stare wide eye trying to take calm breathes, its 'hands' tighten around my chest and I let out a whimper. The pressure was intense, digging through my coat and shirt and piercing into my muscles. I couldn't help but let out a pitiful sound.

No. No. NO! Guts and gore! Liquefied Murkoff! Chris' final squeal of agony as his body scattered over white stone. A blast of cold pulses through my body as I try in vain to kick free, but I can't feel my legs.

The Walrider fades and I give a short cry as I'm propelled backwards, my neck snaps back on my shoulders and the sharp pain flares through my skull. I can't see where the Walrider has gone, but I'm twirling through open air, falling past the rungs of the steps I had hobbled up earlier. The light flashes over my eyes as I plummet, screaming as the ground is coming up fast. For some reason I wonder if my camera will survive the impact.

Then it's there in an instant, I can't keep track of what's happening with my ears ringing. One of my arms plasters to my side as the other flops out, searching for a balance, some sort of hold. I can't decide if I'm still falling or rising, but I open my eyes and to take in the light. I squint against the bright lamps, and its then that I feel its arms digging into my midsection. The cruel shriek blasts through my ear, as it flips me over. The edge of the metal catwalk is right there! I snap my eyes open and I claw out for the metal edge, desperate and panicked. I'm positive I could reach it! An inch more! Even if I don't have the strength to pull myself up, I have to get free of its painful clutch!

I yowl out as the Walrider constricts, I could picture my organs popping one by one under its 'fingers'. There was a sound, I'm unsure it if was the Walrider or me, but I'm flung away. My heel smashed over something metal as I spiral, tumbling down through the muggy steam. I see the light and shadows pulse by my eyes, mixing until I'm dizzy and sick. I let loose a sob when I see the pallets and barrels on the floor below, come into focus. NO! NO!

Somewhere in the dark it snags me and I struggle wildly against its grip. The cruel hands twist deep into my chest, its sharp fingers coil over my collar bone. Ice. It's just like ice! My jaw snaps loose and I gag, and howl, anything to drown out the pounding in my ears. The electrical plague surging through my body. Its hold loosened then, and I plummet through the dark before smashing into the light. And the stone floor. I try and brace my fall by throwing my arms up, to protect my head from the lamps. Keep my teeth from scattering. My elbows absorb some of the blow, and I hit with all my weight onto my bad side.

It probably wasn't the best action, but I immediately thrust myself upright from my hands and try to stand. To walk. I moan in my throat as the world tilts, I can barely see with the way the colors distort in the light above. My ribs shift back into place and I gasp, struggling to catch my breath without choking on my tongue. God… can I walk? Am I able to—

Not done! I'm not done yet! I lean on my leg as I take a step closer to the stacks of bags on the pallet, covered in the blue tarp. My body swings to the side, but I manage to stay upright. It's a massive accomplishment for the effort I put in, and I don't want to fall again. I plant my feet apart and scan my current whereabouts over. The steam has gotten so thick, and it's become hard to breath without choking.

I'm across from the double doors that lead back to the Morphogenic chamber. I stare at them groggily as I take a step, and promptly lose my balance. I hit the tarp covered materials and sprawl over the blue surface. I'm hurt bad, but not done, not by a long shot. My breath wheezes and I barely get back up on my feet, ignoring the small wet patch of red I've left on the plastic cover.

Somewhere overhead the Walrider shrieks. Its hurt or it is dying at long last, one of the two. If it wasn't it would have killed me then. If it has a second chance it will succeed.

I manage to reach the doors and get one open. I leaned on the doors edge as I pushed it open, then slumped on the cool metal panel as I force it shut. I take a slow breath. Pick up the pace Miles. Almost done. Promise.

I pushed away from the door as the Walrider came into view below, driven by its unrestrained fury to paint the walls with my blood. I took another breath, doing my best to ignore the pain chewing in my skin. It'll hold for a minute tops, but only concluding this would save my life. I spun away and pushed myself into a steady jog, and blocked. Blocked out the hum, blocked the pain. I blocked out my humanity.

The corridor seemed shorter, or maybe I remembered it wrong. I skipped to a stop at the barrels and wedged myself through, and grunted through clenched teeth as my side rubbed on the rough pallet. I dropped to my knees on the other side as my mind swam. Pain. Have to get up. But the pain dragged me down.

A mere few feet away was the metal door, the Morphogenic chamber. Everything I had wanted. Everything I had tried to accomplish. I pushed myself to my feet and gripped the handle, and used it to pull myself up until I was standing. "Get this done. Get it done, and I can leave it all behind. All of it." The inhuman cry of the thing from the dark followed me, echoing in my ears. It was coming.

I stumbled through one door and dragged it shut after me. I tried not to cough on the thick vapor, as I staggered to the edge of the steps. We're good. We're good. Keep it together, almost there. I took a few deep breaths deliberately agitating my ribs, and focused on Wernicke's machine. This was it. This was the end to all this madness. Find the control panel. Deactivate the machine. Kill the creation.

The chamber looked to be in distress, the air was now clogged with dark smog. Lights flared across the ceiling, arks of electricity sparked over the dodecagon structure that dominated the center of the room. Monitors for computers regulating the machine flashed errors, probably indicating the test subject. Throughout the chambers panic, a siren blared to summon the doctors in and correct the error. But all the doctors were dead, the scientists painted the floor with their blood. There was no one left to hasten in and aid the experiment that had destroyed them.

The stairs winding to the Engines base were excruciating to rush down, but I'd rather be on them. I supported myself on one arm while the walls continued to tilt, the pulsing lights didn't help either. The camera stuffed in my shoulders sleeve was becoming obnoxious and I risked pulling it out, to have… in case. I ignored the damp spot in my coat. I'd be fine once this was done. Like magic or something. One choir I had to complete. Billy's pod was in fail safe mode, but I would fix that shortly. I'd give him the closure he deserved and I could go on with my life elsewhere.

Or what was left of it.

I made it to the floor and stumble around the barrels situated by the copper tanks. Immediately, I began hunting for the front of the machine. The primary terminal regulating control over Billy's pod. The dull thrum bore deep into my brain matter, but I only realized then that I'd left the sound behind in the corridor. The white noise had followed me.

I winced and held my chest as I scanned through the gray fog, struggling to stay on my feet as I sought both apparition and its control. Embers shot off the metal plates of the Engine and I could smell burning. God, I hated that smell, but I think it was the best thing I could have in my nose right now. The Engine was overheating, it just might burst into flames when I shut down the systems. Wouldn't know until I initiated it. I neared the front of the room with the glassed in upper floor. Where the scientists monitored the Morphogenic Engine systems through the computers. It was here, at the front. I remember that much.

When I escaped I'd have to find a safe place to lay low. This was more than what I had bargained for. With knowledge that Dr. Wernicke was alive and well following this, would only invite an unfortunate 'accident' for me in days to come. Couldn't risk losing my camera in the process, though it being so beat up might deter a theft. But I needed to make copies of the files. I needed medical attention foremost, someone I could trust. I don't know if I could make it that far.

Too much to think about. Plan it as it came. I located Billy's pod at the front of Wernicke's machine, and no more than three feet away the panel ablaze with sparks. Frantic warnings all surging, demanding attention. The experiment was doomed. I dashed to it, jarred my side, didn't give a fuck, and smashed the panel with my hand.

Done and done.

The Engine gave a remorseful hum that rumbled through my body, as it clashed across the chiseled interior of the Morphogenic chamber. It felt good. I clasped the camera between my palms and leaned back as red warnings burned on the screen.

WARNING. WARNING. FAILSAFE SYSTEM OFF.

I shut my eyes against the offensive messages and gripped the camera a little tighter in my hands, focusing on the gaps between my fingers. Like hell it was, let him die. I braced my elbows on the panel and turned my head to witness as Billy began thrashing within his pod. It looked painful. As he withered the restraints in his chest and throat tore free, releasing his blood within the nutrient fluid. I raised my camera to get all of this in, and exhaled a small breath. It was over. This nightmare was over and I could get the fuck out of here. Nothing to stop me now.

No more deformed giants, no more naked twins, no more fanatical priests. Just the road ahead and me. And my camera.

The pod was turning black with blood and my stomach turned. I looked away for a brief moment when something solid smashed into me from behind, causing my body to smack chest first into the pod. My head was pounding and I felt the vision distort in my left eye. My muscles stiffened, charged with energy and pain. No. No… He was dead! I tried to push myself back, while keeping in mind to LOCK my fingers on the cam—

Some sort of force wrenched me around and I let out a snarl as my ribs rubbed into my skin. Staring me right in the face was the Walrider, or what was left of it. The swarm was beginning to disperse, mutating the dark vapor into an insubstantial skeletal frame. Each of its links and joints were exposed for scrutiny, even the network of miniscule tubes in the dark bone. I couldn't make out where its arms were but I could feel them dig through my coat, within my shoulders with needle like ends. My vision flashed as it shoved me back against the pod, the back of my skull cracked on the hard surface and I saw a flash of red. I smelt something odd, scorched cloth or blood. Fluid dripped from nose and slid across my lip. A salty, warm taste overwhelmed my senses.

The swarm flashed out of sight and I found myself yelling, as I accelerated with alarming speed through the air by that piercing pain IN my arms. A wall came into view through the steam, and I instinctively raised my arms before my skull could smash to bits. I hit with such force my arms and coat sleeves barely absorbed my face. My chest plowed HARD into the jagged stone, and an audible crack sounded somewhere in my muscle, over my strangled wail. The Walrider vanished, for good I doubt. I tumbled off the stone wall and hit the floor, rolling out of control. The room was spinning, even when I came to a rest on my side. I tried to hold my weight up off my tender ribs. The plastic shell of my camera scrapped the polished floor as I shifted. It was still in my grip… This wasn't over. I needed to stash it somewhere safe. I put my hand over it, feeling the fresh wet blood now spilling from the reopened wounds on my hands. I needed to get away from here, get away from this area. Who the fuck knew how long before the swarm dispersed completely.

As I was getting off my knees, the insubstantial form materialized to some degree before me. It gave a grinding hiss as it grabbed me by the shoulder, tearing into my muscles with its cold clutch and flung me high across the room. I screamed as I sailed unaided through open air, until gravity delivered me to the floor and I flopped over and over. Once the momentum abandoned me, I blinked and felt my consciousness dim. "Up Miles! Get! UP!"

In my fall the cameras strap had loosened over my hand, I should try to fix that. I braced my arms under my side and pushed up, and focused on the spherical pod full of dark matter. Wasn't that Billy's pod? It was getting hard to see because of the smog. This is what I told myself. In truth it was becoming difficult to see my hands beneath me. It was because of what I'd done, but I had no choice. I had to fix their mistakes. I had no idea how to finish it now. How to kill Billy.

I had only hurt him the worst way imaginable. The only way he COULD be hurt. I had become Billy Hope's Nightmare. I was now the Horerczy. I was the only thing that could kill a Walrider.

And he would prove to me, how wrong I was.

The shrieking wail shot through my eardrums, and the remains of the Walrider's dark shape loomed over me. The world became inaudible, in the one way I hated seeing the world. Far away and under water. I tried to focus on it and what it was up to, but all I managed was a wet cough. This seemed to upset it, for when I looked up it had swept over the black pod and descended onto me. It snared my midsection in its powerful grip and dragged me along the white floor. I yowled and released the camera. The bone in my finger tore at the cement as I tried to claw for a bump, a niche. Enough to knock me loose! Even if it descended upon me in the next moment and ripped me to pieces, I just wanted that one last second! A pause in this torment!

The Walrider ascended swiftly to a staggering height. I gawped wide eyed and stared at the shrinking floor below, as I dangled upside down. I moaned through my teeth as my weight bore down on its sharp form, and it repaid in kind by crushing my sides. I felt something pop in my throat as I let out an agonized sob. When we arrived at a desirable height I was flopped up, and crashed my back into the stone wall behind me. My legs kick out seeking solid surface, some comfort that I'm not so high up. In no way can I thrash free and dislodge my body from the unnatural grip tangled deep throughout my organs. I lose some of my fight when the agony constricts my chest, and I give a weak twitch as this odd tingle works from my forehead down to my toes. Death. I'm dying. I can't believe I'm dying.

The dimming form of the swarm pinned me here, and worked its hands into my chest. I grappled with my coat, unable to feel or grip and dissuade its punishment. Oh god, the sounds I made as its unnatural extremities wound through my cells and tangled with my nerves. Pain. Too much. My legs kicked and twitched in a vain effort to dislodge my body. The Walrider chattered and pressed deeper into my muscles. No god, please…. I looked down to where it had buried its arms up to its elbows, and let out a choked sob. No, please….

"I don't want to die…"

The bloodshed throughout the Asylum, Chris Walker, ruptured corpses and scattered innards. Everything I had been subjected to. The images I had seen pulsed white hot, intensified in my mind like wild fire. Death, the insanity, the pain. All of it burned through my mind as red soaked my memories. How long ago had it been? When was it last that I was alive?

An anguished sound spilled from my throat as I was held there, suspended twenty feet above a stone floor. The swarm reinforced its inhuman grip on my sides, or slid deeper into my guts at its leisure. Fuck, this was no damaged mind of a child. This was a wild animal devoid of remorse. This was pure evil.

This… was my end.

Gazing into the broken horror of science, my last sensations would be immeasurable pain followed by the release of the void. I had fought this far, to die in the end. What cruel irony. With my fading strength I focused on its 'face,' and I swear there was a connection. I don't know if it recognized it, if Billy understood. But I swear, it was there.

The Walrider paused in its reprieve to confirm my comprehension, my reservation for the fate it had planned for me, as all of its victims shared. It could make this last forever if it wanted. To ensure I had learned my lesson, that I knew my place. It would let me die only because it allowed it. But maybe I had already suffered enough. Then, it lurched, or that could have been me slumped in its grip. I watched blearily as it dispersed, dissolving from sight. I sobbed out in revulsion as I felt the chilling sensation of its presence grind through my bones, into my muscle. I gained enough consciousness to seize at my chest in a futile effort to hold my innards together the moment before they were expunged outwards, off of my skeleton.

I became aware that something had gone wrong about two seconds later, when I was howling against the sudden exhilaration that override the pain in my body… as I fell twenty feet to solid cement.

My shoulder hit first and my leg came down hard next, and I actually heard something snap. I felt the pierce of pain through my spine when the bone cracked. I was stunned when I couldn't decide where the injury occurred, my entire body burned with raw agony. And yet, I was still conscious and alive. I lay for a moment groaning, my mind resetting slowly as everything cleared. The alarms still wailed. Flashing red and white swirled through the room, but it wasn't the grinding howl that had pounded my senses. My migraine had suddenly cleared! Instantaneous relief flooded my skull like waking up in a soft bed, after a long, deep sleep. What happened? Why?

Carefully, I propped myself up to look around, stunned yet amazed. The air was thick with burning computer components, the smog was growing heavier. But of the threat.…

Nothing.

There was no swarm. There was no Walrider. Only the barrage of warnings and system errors as the stasis pod failed, and within it, its prisoner. Billy was dead.

I had done it. My mission was over. I had succeeded in surviving my final errand. Why didn't I feel good about it?

A few feet from where I had plummeted was my trusted confident, my camera. Did it still work? I don't think it mattered anymore. I attempted to rise, but a sharp bolt of heat traveled up my leg. The break. I turned with sluggishness to check it, and noted the large black spot along the side of my coat. No doubt the rib was exposed, I had no idea how bad the lung was punctured but with heavy despair I tasted the copious stain of copper on my tongue. I had to get out of here. Had to get up!

How easy it would have been to lie down. I braced my elbows on the cement and inhaled a careful breath, then let it out. The floor was cool to my fevered body, and all the aches and breaks could just fade away. I might never wake up, but that seemed fine. Doctor Wernicke himself told me, I was meant to die here. The moment I set foot through the open window of the Asylum, had sealed my fate. I would never be allowed to leave. Billy had made sure of that.

Braced on my elbows, I pulled my body over onto my good leg and rest my weight to the knee. I repeated this process, shuffling little by little until I had reached my camera. Everything was on this. Everything that was done here. I'd be damned if I didn't waste some precious energy to ensure its safe extraction. However far I….

I fumbled a bit with its options, while I collected my fractured mind. The camera clicked and the image was a bit distorted, but it worked. I assured myself that the vital operations would continue to function, and I could lift the images off…. later. Evidence. Proof. It needed to be confirmed on camera. I did it. I had done this. I braced my side with an arm and leveled the camera to capture an image of the murky pod, and the now deceased William Hope.

"Billy is dead, the Walrider, the swarm, whatever it is, unmade with him. Whether I escape or die here, I am free."

For a beat I paused to look up from my notes and gaze distantly on my surroundings. Gone. Everything the scientists had hoped to achieve, undone by their creation, and executed by my hand. I felt no pride in this, I just wanted out. Out in any manner fate saw fit for me. It would be a long walk to the exit in Block… in Block….

Fuck. I knew where it was, and that's what mattered. I'd find my way there eventually.

I secured my camera in its pack and pressed my palms to the floor, then inched my good leg under me. Satisfied with its stability I pushed up, stumbling as the world spun. The winding coil of pain worked through my bones and buried deep into my nerves. Even if my legs were chopped off, I'd still walk out on those stumps. Fuck you Trager. Fuck you. I would stand up. I would walk out of here.

The ringing in my head was near silent, and I didn't take this as a good sign. It felt like preempt shock. My body was steady enough to stay upright, but my metabolism was crashing. I was poisoned by the chemicals in my head and I needed medicine, something to stabilize my body before it killed me.

Once I had my bearings I turned, making a slow trek towards the steps that rose to the Plexiglas chamber. Shapes blurred around me, but I was certain without a doubt those were the steps I had staggered down at the beginning of the mad race. If they were not, I had plenty of time to reflect as I made my way to them. One careful step after the next, just take it easy. There was no hurry.

Only the outer bone of my leg must have snapped. I could get some weight on it but very little. It allowed me to shuffle along, without grieving my ribs any more than necessary. If I stopped moving at this point I might not be able to rouse myself from passing out.

The floor along with the yellow rail faded and I collapsed over the steps, coming up short on the metal grate as I caught myself on my elbow. The shattering pain that I had anticipated upon my fall was absent. Perhaps my adrenalin was out of control. My body was in survival, panic mode. The chemicals in my blood were poisoning my brain, from the overdose of adrenaline to whatever infections I might've picked up in the hellish sewers. I took a breath and winced, feeling the tickling itch in my side where the rib had breached the skin. There was little hope in my mind that I was going to live to see tomorrow.

But damn, I would not die here. Not here! Not in the sewers. Not in the basement. Not here! I pulled myself up by the rail and put my foot under me, I braced my knee over the next step and forced my good leg to lift my body, to burden my weight. These were the last steps I would have to deal with, I could get up them. It wouldn't be the last thing I do here. My feet were heavy, but I managed to get them over each rung and reach the clear sliding doors. I braced myself along the edge of the doorway, and stumbled into the Morphogenic Engines control room. My good leg for no other reason but to spite me gave out, and I crashed against the nearest desk. I wheezed out a pitiful breath, it tasted like copper and salt had stained my throat.

C'mon. The exit isn't much further.

I wanted to believe that. Shove hope down my throat. The exit was just down the hall, through the next set of doors after the first. Those horrible doors. It was, how many? Fifty steps. Fifty short steps, I could make that. The desk was so comfortable though, sturdy and solid, and real. I looked down at my knee crumpled under me. The room whirled around my head, far away. Hushed. Beyond my dazed senses. I was breathing hard, and a thin trail of drool had soaked a black patch in my filthy jeans. Red drops were falling from my nose, and I barely realized that my nose was bleeding. I wanted to pretend it was only a broken blood vessel caused by stress, but that was another one of those white lies. I needed to stop trying to fool myself with those.

Fifty steps. I could make fifty steps. What was fifty steps to me? I've been running around this Asylum all evening. It wasn't that much further.

I told myself this.

I promised myself these things.

I had nothing left to keep me going on.

The bright lights of the hall would have been comforting, if I wasn't so burnt out on the clinical and detached feeling of the lab. My vision distorted as I slumped against the doorframe. Take a breath, a little pause. Let my senses settle into place. I thought I saw Dr. Trager waiting by the door, running his mouth like only he could. But he looked the way he must have before whatever happened to him, complete with a fine lab coat blotted with blood. He did dress like a white collar business douchebag. Instead of golf clubs he had a syringe, and directed its sharp end into the side of my neck.

I brushed Trager aside and persisted, he couldn't stop me. No one could stop me. I felt myself falling again, my legs dissolved under my weight. When did I become so heavy? I braced my arm to the floor and tried to stay off the camera, I was slipping down to my side. To just give in. To just sink into the sleep and never wake up.

The lights dimmed to some degree, or my eyes were shutting, but the Walrider hoisted me up and we continued. We were so close to the doors, they were a few steps and a stumble away. The chiseled white walls of the corridor seemed brighter, but its luminous intensity didn't burn my eyes as it had in my previous trip through. The air was calm, almost alarming to my overtaxed mind. I tried to remind myself this was the way it was meant to be, when you were not cowering under a massive migraine. This was sweet liberation from the pain. I was just exhausted.

I was getting near the exit of the Morphogenic wing now, and a wave of relief enveloped me. A deadly contribution to my sick mind. My steps faltered and I dropped, managing somehow to hit my cheek on the cement floor without cracking a tooth. The Walrider waited beside me as my scattered mind cleared. I heard Father Martin whisper something into my ear, the same as when he first found me. I wanted to ask if there was a heaven waiting for me. He only smiled, and the buzzing in my limbs murmured something with great urgency. I just wanted the world to stop.

The lights faded before I blinked back into clarity. No. Don't sleep, don't fall. Not here. I'm so close. A small red puddle had gathered under my cheek, and I gladly lifted myself from it. I took a moment to pull together, and swallow down the blood that lined my throat. No more fading, no more pauses. It was obvious by now I could not escape my fate, I had been fooling myself from the beginning. For me, nothing lay beyond this place but death. But goddamn it, I was NOT going to die inside these cold labs where so many had perished in the name of science. I would get outside and I would die bathed in the warmth of the sun, knowing that I had beaten them all!

With that resolve whirring in my head I put my weight on my fist and pushed, rising up one last time. Once and for all, I would make it out of this fucked up place. I felt a bit of my strength returning as I shuffled forward, maybe I had been out for a minute, or an hour. However long was enough. I wasn't stopping until I was finally in sunlight.

I was reminded briefly of my mutilations as I reached for the handles of the doors. My index finger on my right hand, and my ring finger were—

A sudden gust of air swept over my face as the doors swung outward. I was not processing what was happening, as the click of weapons primed for assault were shoved at me. Guns. Assault rifles. Held by soldiers. MHS. Special tactical cops, the same as the one that had warned me away seconds before his death. Dazed, I wondered if he was still dead. It took a half second before the panic finally latched onto my mind, the realization that this was happening. This was really happening right here. They were in my way, and they were going to kill me.

Not armed! I wasn't armed! Did they think I was dangerous, had they mistake me for a variant? True, I had forgotten how god awful I must have looked, but I couldn't help it! I could hardly stand! I put out my hands and limped back trying to warn them, but all that came out was a spray of blood as I exhaled a pitiful sound. I sniffled, trying to clear the blood in my nose. No! Don't do this. Not when I was so fucking CLOSE!

I saw him there. The man I promised to fix nicely with a hacksaw, if given the chance alone with his corpse. Dr. Rudolf Wernicke amidst these militants, and waiting patiently for my requiem. I fixed him with my eyes. A look of betrayal? A look of bafflement? Why, after everything I have done for you, would you end me right here, and right now? I wanted to die in the fuckin sunlight!

The first bullet hit before the piercing resonance shattered my thoughts. I spun on my bad leg upon receiving full impact. My vision blurred but I didn't feel the pain, it hadn't been recorded yet in my nerves. Then, I thought I saw, right there.

My shadow….

Without a word, the hall is filled with the magazine chatter as the lead soldier emptied his arsenal in me. I was only grateful as I dropped, that about a fourth of the expense had lodged into my torso and hip. Not like a concussion; not like a splitting migraine. I'm still me, I can feel it settle deep in my marrow.

This time it didn't hurt to collapse to my backside. A splash of blood hit me in the face, from about a dozen severed arteries. I had this odd sense of vertigo, an out of body experience as the darkness pooled over my eyes. Dying. God, my bodies dying. I can feel it - sliding off from me. This is real, this is happening... In the now. It's sinking in. The futility of it all... death. My death. It's just... I'm losing touch. Everything stopped inside me, and... I can't restart it.

No.

In my last moments, I can ponder over the cruel irony. That no matter my hopes, my aspirations tangled into this god awful place. Even the soldiers with their guns couldn't steal it all away.

I am free.

My consciousness drained out, and coalesced… elsewhere. It was all over. I was done. Lost. My vision blurred, dimmed. I'm too damned tired to resist any longer. Give in. Sleep. The world became a far off impression, a recollection in a pool that I could gaze down into, and witness my reflection; isolated. It was all I had come to expect in the end; ragged, soaking red, and broken.

Forget...

Somewhere. Someone stuttered in utter disbelief, "Gott im Himmel. You have become the host."

That hissing whirr— The static in my camera that I had grown accustomed to, filled my skull. The sounds of gun chatter persisted, and the frantic shrieks of men met my dulled senses. This crushing thought came over me as I accepted the void, the shadow, the emptiness of my failure. There would be no light waiting for me on the other side. There was no afterlife, no rest for my weary soul. Instead, I only saw red.