Ryan Burkhalter

Ms. Mann
English II
October 24 2017
Unknown Horror

I woke suddenly to the blaring and screeching of an alarm. Its awful noise echoed

through the facility, making sure it was heard by everyone, whether they wanted to hear it or

not. It was time to get up. A quick glance at the clock on the wall revealed that it was 05:45.

Dragging myself out of bed as hundreds of bodies stirred and lumbered about, I walked over to

the wall and slipped into my uniform. On the way out of the barracks, I placed my palm on a

small pane of glass, which recorded my fingerprints and spat out a small piece of plastic. The

card read “Private Gerhard Smith. Class D, security level 5, education level B. Security guard.”

Along with hundreds of other half-awake people, I then meandered out into the main facility.

Sauntering through the gleaming white hallways, I headed towards the west wing armory

to grab my weapon, and swiped my card through a small slot next to the large, heavy doors.

With a smooth rasp, not unlike that which a hydraulic brake would make. I slung the strap for the

assault rifle over my shoulder and grabbed a handful of magazines to slide into pockets on my

belt. I holstered a smaller weapon as well, a small pistol. It fit snugly into another specialized

pocket on my belt. Walking out into the main facility once more, I meandered down the hallways

until I came across my station. I was assigned to watch over the entrance to something I knew

only as “Anomaly 247.3-5B.” That was all I knew about this thing I had to keep safe. The plaque

also had symbols on it that gave little information to me. Several scientists, most likely C-class,

walked by speaking words that I could not understand. One of them halted before the great door

and had his card scanned, then held his face close to a tiny glass plate. The door slid open, like

the armory door had done. They walked in, their footsteps echoing through the hallways.

Time dragged on for the next few hours. As people came and went, my sole purpose

was to stand in one place and be as little in the way as possible. Several times I overheard

people talking about a new set of protocols for one of the anomalies in the East wing, apparently
a result of decreased funding to something the directors viewed as safe. As a security guard,

and an education level B at that, I had no idea of the motives of the higher-up personnel.

Suddenly all of the lights shut off. An eerie and tangible darkness was cast upon the

entire complex. I immediately shouldered my rifle and flipped the safety. A red glow descended

upon the complex as the emergency lights flickered to life. Suddenly an ear-splitting wail

erupted from the walls. A voice shouted over the speakers: “All personnel to emergency

positions. This is not a drill. Head to all emergency exits in a swift and orderly manner. Security

personnel are to escort higher-ranked individuals first.” The voice then began to drone on about

the exits and routes for the areas of the facility. All around me, I heard the gentle thunk of

electromagnetic locks disengaging. I peered through the door I was watching to see if the

researchers were leaving. It was empty. I called out into the empty chamber. No response. It

was then that I realized the empty hallway. An eerie silence descended upon the dimly lit

chamber. Where there was supposed to be hundreds of people waiting to exit the building, the

faint red glow of the emergency lights illuminated only blank walls. I heard a scratching noise

down the long, dark, corridor behind me. I swung my rifle around to aim down the seemingly

endless row of red lights, my finger resting on the trigger.

The door behind me slid shut.

Sprinting across the hallway, I slid the strap for my gun off of my shoulder and gripped it

firmly with both hands. With all the force I could muster, I brought the stock of the weapon down

on a small panel of glass in the wall. Reaching into the hole I made, feeling the shards of glass

rip and tear at my skin, I felt around for a lever and pulled. A waist-high slab of metal began

sliding out of the wall, and extended out about half the breadth of the hall. Crouching behind this

new cover, I shouldered the stock and peered through the sights at the closed door, standing

ominously in the dim glow.

Hearing a faint scratching at the door, only one thought was going through my head. I

need to get out of here. Watching in fear as long, finger like tendrils of darkness creeped out
from between the cracks in the doorway, I waited with baited breath. As the door opened a very

slight bit, my finger jerked against the trigger, pulling it towards me. I felt the gun kick in my

arms, felt it pressing against my shoulder as each bullet was sent in between the doors with a

resounding crack. The tendrils quickly withdrew.

I knew where I needed to go. Gate A. The nearest exit, and only a couple hundred feet

away. A triple airlock system that made sure nothing unwanted got in or out. Slinging the strap

of my assault rifle once again over my shoulder, I walked tentatively up to the door I had just

been firing at, seeing the bullets that missed embedded in the heavy metal door. Fumbling a

flashlight out of my belt, I flipped the switch on the small metal cylinder. Light poured out. Using

my other hand, I shoved one of the halves of the door to the side. It barely budged. I forced it,

and managed to make enough of an opening to fit through. I stepped through, shining my

flashlight across the walls. It revealed a chamber, approximately the size of an aircraft hangar,

with a massive double door at one end. The large, ominous letters above it read: Gate A. I

shone the flashlight once more around the room, as shadows flickered across the walls. Then,

multiple things happened at once. First, the lights went out. Second, I heard the schlunk of

multiple doors closing. Lastly, the scratching noise picked up again. This time down the hallway

I just exited.

The lights came back on, except this time not just the emergency lights. Every single

light came on. Primary lights, warning lights, emergency lights. The room was bathed in light. I

began sprinting across the massive chamber, as the scratching picked up in intensity and

frequency. I threw myself upon a panel next to Gate A. Smashing a button frantically and

repeatedly, I turned around. Starting from the rear of the chamber, a tangible darkness was

spreading. The lights were going out, starting with the ones at the end of the chamber. I heard

the gate doors stop. Moving into the first airlock, I hit the button to proceed. As darkness spread

across the room like a membrane, I could see the massive metal plates sliding towards each
other. I braced for what was coming. The darkness was now racing across the floor, and I

covered my face with my arms. All I heard was the gentle thud of the doors closing.

I opened my eyes. The doorway in front of me was closed. The doorway behind me

leading to the second airlock was open. I walked in, and hit another button. The doors in front of

me slid closed. The doors behind me slid open. Proceeding into the third and final airlock, I hit

one final button in the stark white control panel. As the doors began to close, the lights went out.

I heard a scratching. I backed up, into the side of the thin airlock chamber. I turned my flashlight

back on again, and waved it around. The airlock chamber was empty. Both doors were closed.

Suddenly, the door leading into the facility started groaning, as if under immense pressure. The

seal in between the two metal slabs broke with a hiss. I started beating my fist frantically on the

control panel, willing it to work. The same dark, misty tentacles started spreading out of the

impenetrable darkness. They reached for me, getting closer and closer.

A blinding ray of light pierced the darkness. The tendrils retracted into the darkness with

a hissing noise. I walked out of the airlock, still rubbing my eyes and getting adjusting to the

light. The first thing I saw was a row of soldiers, rifles aimed at my chest. A senior officer

stepped forward from the group of men.

“I am very sorry Mr. Smith.”