u/Bulky-Alps6947

4/?

I think I’m ready to continue. Sorry again for earlier, It just.. Makes me so fucking sick-

“Please, take your time Charlie. Nobody is expecting you to run through this again without digging up some rough feelings.”

I just feel as though it makes for a bad interview. Stopping every time I get upset, I mean.

“Believe me, with what we’ve covered so far, the viewers will be hanging on every word. Now if you are ready, I think we’d all like to hear more.”

Okay then. So I was back at the greenhouse, right? Freshly scarred and not entirely there mentally. I knew the vegetables I grew were no good. And to be honest, I was scared of them. I mean, I've just heard so many rumors. I wasn't a white coat. I didn't have whatever gizmo they used to make them edible.

“But then how did you survive down there? Surely there was something you could eat.”

Well, rather than starve- I had the Idea to peek inside our compost bin. It should have been full of nutrition in one way or another. That was the best, and worst decision I ever made down there. What hit me first was the sweet, nauseating odor. Inside were countless rotting cuts of meat, drenched in some kind of—glimmering, red oil.

“Dont tell me.. Please Charlie, you're not about to say what I think.”

… I ripped off the hatch of a waste funnel. Then I used bunsen burners to make a flimsy stove. I’ll never forget the taste of those cuts. They were fatty and pink. Almost like ham, except they left an oily film on the surface of my tongue.

“Dear god- I heard things were bad down there—but not this bad. ”

Just hang on for a second, this bit is important. I had discovered something. One moment I was holding a glass dish with some of that oil I mentioned. Then the next I lost balance due to my weakened state. Causing me to spill it straight on the flame of a burner.

Suddenly my entire peripheral faded to darkness, and everything else was bathed entirely in blinding, blue light. It was this- enormous tower of flame. Just from the small portion that dripped off the dish. I’d never seen such a horrifying and violent fire. Which- really left me wondering just what the fuck was in our compost.

“Just a reminder, you don't need to embellish anything. Your situation was already crazy enough.”

I swear- I’m not making any of this up! It sounds entirely unreasonable, I know. But I would sooner volunteer for recycling than be lying about those.. Almost magical flames.

Anyways, I decided to collect more of that red mystery oil. That shit was clearly worth something. It was also just- so practical, and for so many applications. I could barely handle all the ideas swirling around in my head.

“What did you do with it first? Did it turn out to be anything useful?”

The first thing I tried to make were these tiny paper darts. I soaked the front of them in oil, and intended to light the tip and throw it at any danger coming my way. … I think I was having a moment. They were just- so impractical. Plus I've never been any good at darts.

“That's certainly a.. Novel first Idea. Did you make anything that was— useful?”

Well, after a couple more days of experimenting while I ate and gathered my strength. I had a- rather insane idea.

“Im afraid to ask.”

You know those vacuums that can change direction? Well.. While I was in the cafeteria closet, I saw one. I thought that maybe- I could make some kind of flamethrower. Or I guess more of a napalm gun.

The only problem?

“You locked that violent ball creature inside..”

Exactly.

3/?

“Our rating is usually MA. Feel free to talk about anything you want. We’re here to reveal your story, this isn't just entertainment. You survived impossible odds, Charlie. The world needs to know every detail”

Okay then. I’ll start with this.. The moment I stepped into the halls, my shoes were covered in blood. It was dark, not a single light but the red beacons guiding my path. I nearly tripped almost every few steps. There were just so many soft bits littered across the cold steel flooring. I didn't dare stop to inspect what they were.

“Dear god.. That's just sick. What in the world happened to them?

It was The King. And I didn't know it at the time, but I’d soon grow very familiar with it.

“Excuse me— “The King?” Why in the world would you call it something like that?”

I didn't come up with the name. He did. I’d like to continue with my journey to the cafeteria, please. I’m not ready to talk about him. It makes me sick.

“Continue any thread you want. This is your interview. I’m just here to spread the word.”

Thank you. I actually really appreciate you saying that. Continuing on- the hall. Right.. the hall.

I’m not sure how I didn't run into him in those corridors. Thankfully I was steadily making progress on my walk to the cafeteria. It was near pitch black, yes. But I knew all the turns. Once I arrived, the lights inside were beaming.

I still wish I'd just eaten the vegetables.

Quickly, I made my way to the back kitchen. I should have grabbed a knife, really anything to defend myself.

I just wasn't thinking right. My hunger was the only drive I had. I thought there had to be food somewhere- it was a kitchen for crying out loud. Then after scrounging around cabinets and spice racks, I found one recycle bar. To this day, that bar was the best meat I've ever tasted. But I was still hungry

There was only one spot I didn't check. A closet in the corner. Though in the end it turned out to just be full of cleaning supplies and mops. It was then after looking closer that I walked back out into the kitchen, where I was promptly beaten to the floor.

“You were attacked? By who? And- why?

Some kind of freaky- flesh tumbleweed, the size of a knee high sphere. And it had started ramming my legs with crushing force. The creature was red and wet. Leaving a trail of residue everywhere it rolled.

Now, I’d like to first say, I am in no way an athletic person. But as I hopped to my feet it came hurdling toward me once more with its spindly and pulsing—I wanna say they were almost like.. Roots?

They were some kind of tendril. Anyways- I managed to hop this freaky- fucking “flesh boulder”. Thankfully it slammed into the mop closet, where I slammed the door shut.

“Well Charlie, that's quite a horror. Now I hope you understand, a monster like that seems almost unbelievable. In fact this all seems just, a little embellished.”

I know, I know. And I’ll be honest, it might not have happened exactly like that. But the creature was completely real. Putrid- but real. Needless to say, I started sprinting to the hall. And it must have just turned morning, because the lights switched on right before my eyes.

God, how I wish they hadn't.

I wasn't prepared for that sight. The light forced me to confront what I previously refused to see. Carnage everywhere. Even on the ceiling. Long snakes of flesh pouring out from mangled torsos. A sea of arms and legs, stripped of their skin. Heads missing chunks of flesh, revealing the skull beneath.

Their red skeletons made me hurl on the spot. Just like that. My stomach was empty again. I will say, it was easier to avoid tripping on the way back. But countless empty eyes, some not even in their skulls- tormented me every step of the way.

I worked alongside hundreds of people. Each and every one of us was a vital part of keeping that stupid lab running. But just like that, it seemed as though almost every one of them had been eviscerated. Please excuse me for a second, I still have strong feelings about what happened.

“Please, take your time. I can imagine this would be very difficult to dig up.”

Things started feeling off when the alarms began blaring. Only a little, since we frequently have to evacuate for drills. I mean, it was a weekly occurrence by that point. I dropped everything I was doing, left my samples out in the open air where they were ruined, mind you.

But when I got to an exit, a vast ocean of white coats made one thing clear. We had been sealed in. And it turns out it was for a good reason, too.

“So they locked you all inside. I can't imagine how helpless I'd feel in your place. What exactly was the procedure for this kind of situation?”

The funny, or I guess not so funny thing about the whole situation was- we didn't have a procedure for anything like it. At least, not any I was told about. As far as I'm aware, everyone was blindsided by it. Nobody ever thought they’d lock us inside the bunker.

And another thing- shortly after there was something played over the speakers. They weren't the best quality, and it was hard to make out what they said- even in the suspenseful silence of every person in that hallway. Something about “Bio-meter sensors, West Wing” just a load of junk.

What they said next though, was loud and clear. “Thank you for all you’ve done.” It was such a kindness, yet so chilling to hear. Whatever was happening down there, we would have to face it alone.

“Earlier you said your samples had spoiled. I assume this means you returned to the greenhouse?”

Yes. After some time waiting with the crowd, I came back for fresh air. In the moment I still had hope for some kind of rescue. I now know that was naive of me.

“How were you feeling about your chance of survival?”

To be honest, I didn't think about it too much. It was just unnecessary stress. In my mind I kept telling myself- I just had to wait. Then a squad of marines, maybe the national guard. Anyone in the government really— would sweep me off my feet and back to the surface.

And so I waited patiently. But as tense minutes turned to suspenseful hours. And hours turned to mind numbing days of fear. I finally ventured out from what safety I found inside the Greenhouse.

“You stayed in the same place for days? Why on earth.. Was anyone else with you? What did you eat?”

Could we uhm— maybe slow down with the questionsNobody was with me. Though I definitely expected at least one person to stumble in, that way I’d at least have company. But no, nobody else made it to me. As for my diet, I was never able to shake my fear of the greens. Too many risks. Unnecessary risks. Which- well, means I didn’t eat anything.

“I would love to go back to what you said about leaving the greenhouse. What was it like departing from it after days?”

To be honest, I don't remember how I felt about it. Some things are really fuzzy. As for leaving, my goal was to find the cafeteria. I was— very hungry. Really quick- what's the rating here? I have some very messed up things to talk about.

What was the point of my story? Of having to endure such horrid things. I've been hunted countless times through a labyrinth of hallways. Sliced open everywhere from head to toe by creatures I still can't understand. I was just so tired. But no matter what.. That thing wouldn't let me die.

Sorry- can we redo that? I feel like this wasn't the best way to begin.

“Dont worry. You're doing just fine, Charlie. Keep going, but start from the beginning.”

Okay then. The beginning. Right- Got it.

I guess it was just another day at work. I always hated the greenhouse, but looking back— it feels so far away now. I can barely remember that time in my life. Back when those metal walls made me feel secure. That was, until they became my cage.

“What sort of responsibilities did you have in the greenhouse?”

Well, I was in charge of sampling and analyzing nitrogen levels, soil ph and-

“Maybe put it in layman's terms for us.”

… Sorry. Basically, I’d monitor plant health and adjust the soil accordingly. My purpose was to keep greens alive, and have them grow as fast as they could handle.

“This “greenhouse” was important for the bunkers ecosystem, yes? Without the workers in your position, the entire lab would have fallen apart.”

I was- well, they only assigned one person to the greenhouse, that being me. But yes, without the plants everyone would have suffocated. We also happened to provide extra rations for the cafeteria.

“Rations? As in—fresh vegetables? What was that like? Getting to consume non-recycled material, I mean. Are the rumors true? Did it not hurt your stomach?”

I never personally got to eat what I’d harvest. That kind of material was reserved for only the highest ranked white coats.

“Wait, so— you didn't even get to enjoy the literal fruits of your labor? That must have been incredibly frustrating.”

I wasn't really that hurt about it. The only edible plants we grew were fibrous and leafy. There wasn't room for the luxury that is fruit. The majority of greens were actually grown to gather toxic metals from soil brought in from the surface.

“You were cultivating dirt from the surface? What for? And just how big was this greenhouse?”

The Greenhouse was vast. Absolutely full of lush ivy, sunflowers, chilled cabbages, and enormous pea plants. Honestly, it was a lot for just one person to have to maintain. As for the newly viable soil, excess was always carted off to somewhere else in the facility. I have no idea what they used it for.

“Alright, I think we’ve been on this subject for a bit too long. At what point did you know something was wrong about that day?”

Just a minute. I’ll be right there.

-The door endures its beating

I’m so very sorry, but please be patient dear!

-Once more, as if someone were tearing through the wood.

That's enough! Who goes there? I wasn't expecting such rude company, or any for that matter.

-The elderly woman continues, her eye pressed to the peep hole

State your business. I haven't much tolerance for such impatience.

“Good evening, young mind. This one requires you let me inside. Need to speak of your literature.”

Young mind- what? I’m gonna try and take that as a compliment. How did you get this address? Pen names exist for a reason, dear.

-While certainly disturbed, Emilia gets an impression of cognitive disability from the stranger.

“Please. Tea. We can speak over tea?”

I don't know, dear. Could you maybe come back at a later time?

“Not long for this existence. fan.. This is a fan. We must discuss writing.”

Oh.. I’m sorry to hear that hon. But in all honesty.. I'm just not comfortable letting a man inside my home without anyone else around. I just don’t know you, is all.

“Was most excited for meeting. Miss Emelia.. She must open the door.”

I’m not going to do that dearie. How about this.. Tomorrow my nephew is coming to spend the day. How about you come back tomorrow, and we can discuss anything you like.

“This.. It is acceptable. This one is sorry for intrusion.”

It's quite alright. Just remember, come by tomorrow around noon.

“Your mind. It is— something precious. I will see tomorrow.”

… see you tomorrow.

-It's been a day now. He came back, exactly at noon. Knocking with the same strength as before.

The first dream was one of red. I stood beside a river flowing down a mountainous cliff. Staring far into the horizon I saw forests. Their trees pulsing with a lean. Their branches flaccid with razor edges. I knew not what to make of such a display. And I had not the time to ponder before a curdling choir began to sing.

Their song was hypnotizing, supported by screams of the damned. From faces which now appeared from deep inside the trees. I turned to a small shrub, just beside where I stood. Its voice stood out among the others. It was special. For it was the voice of my very own son.

I know not whether my fear makes me less of a man. But I had no other thoughts than to flee. Though as my spirit continued forward in a sprint, I could now see clearly that my boots had sunken deep into the ground.

How had I not noticed the very substance I was planted within. It was wet with red. Soft like rubber, and sticking with an iron grip to my shoes. Veiny and putrid. Growing with spikes of thin black hairs. Almost reminiscent of grass growing from soil. I screamed in utter guttural vain, “WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME LORD?”

I fell forward, my face sinking into a thick stream of chunky red. Though even as the clots blocked the entrance to my ears- I still heard his cries. Clear as any simple truth. The clots seemed animate. Fighting to fill any entrance to my head. A battle which they won.

As I choked on chunks of blood, I still attempted to plead. Though no sound could escape my retching and desperate attempts to unstick from the ground. Then— I finally woke within the bunker. My tongue pressed against a metal canvas like a brush. Painting strokes of shit and blood.

As I pulled back in horror, I saw it. That very same riverside. Just along the cliff.

The first dream was one of red. I stood beside a river flowing down a mountainous cliff. Staring far into the horizon I saw forests. Their trees pulsing with a lean. Their branches flaccid with razor edges. I knew not what to make of such a display. And I had not the time to ponder before a curdling choir began to sing.

Their song was hypnotizing, supported by screams of the damned. From faces which now appeared from deep inside the trees. I turned to a small shrub, just beside where I stood. Its voice stood out among the others. It was special. For it was the voice of my very own son.

I know not whether my fear makes me less of a man. But I had no other thoughts than to flee. Though as my spirit continued forward in a sprint, I could now see clearly that my boots had sunken deep into the ground.

How had I not noticed the very substance I was planted within. It was wet with red. Soft like rubber, and sticking with an iron grip to my shoes. Veiny and putrid. Growing with spikes of thin black hairs. Almost reminiscent of grass growing from soil. I screamed in utter guttural vain, “WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME LORD?”

I fell forward, my face sinking into a thick stream of chunky red. Though even as the clots blocked the entrance to my ears- I still heard his cries. Clear as any simple truth. The clots seemed animate. Fighting to fill any entrance to my head. A battle which they won.

As I choked on chunks of blood, I still attempted to plead. Though no sound could escape my retching and desperate attempts to unstick from the ground. Then— I finally woke within the bunker. My tongue pressed against a metal canvas like a brush. Painting strokes of shit and blood.

As I pulled back in horror, I saw it. That very same riverside. Just along the cliff.