Fear World

Chapter 10: The End's Beginning

Having used blueprints and maps to navigate through Level Two, it didn't prepare me at all for what I found on Level One. Level Two was similar to the levels that I had grown up in, but Level One was entirely different.

The entire floor was one big concoction of lab work and experiments. Hallways were divided off into separate testing floors and labs. Machines of medical, robotics testing and physical analysis backgrounds all scattered throughout. At the center of it all, stood a massive ten-foot-tall fiberglass chamber. Everything looked to be at least a decade old, but technology hadn't advanced much since then. Layers of dust remained undisturbed and thick as though not even the breeze of someone walking by could have touched it. All of the machinery had either been ripped apart or looked to have chunks bitten out of them. The fiberglass chamber had a large crack that ripped from side to side across it. Bits and pieces of the white material were spread out on the floor below it. Like something had torn its way out. There was so much chaos here.

Inching closer towards the center of the level, I realized that all of the creatures were either hiding or were simply not here. There wasn't a single sign that they could have disturbed this place, not for a very long time at least.

Papers were flung in every precarious direction, the entropy of it all increased with each glance around the room. There was something, though, that grasped my attention. If felt like I was getting dragged underwater and everything else was swept away with a strong current-like force.

"Drake Mason" read the bleak, metallic plaque atop a decaying cherrywood desk. I felt the name trace upon my lips. The little semblance of history stirred up curious thoughts in my brain. What purpose did my father have here?

Skirting around the desk, I sat down in a scrappy, leather chair that smelled of a certain familiar scent. Dad's cologne had wafted from the crimson seat as if he were the one sitting in it. A smirk dotted at the edge of my mouth when I noticed the poor, old desk stained to the brim with the circles of a long-forgotten coffee mug. He certainly enjoyed a little too much of the dark, bitter drink. An old device sat upon the desk, taking up at least half of the space. From what I could gather, it looked like what a computer should be, although I couldn't tell for sure since I had never really seen or used one. It crackled in a senile manner when I attempted to turn it on and blinked a few times, then went black again.

Turning my attention to the rest of the desk, my eyes rested upon a light blue composition book. As I flipped through it, Dad's writing started out describing a disease listed as Corporis Soporatus, which was commonly known as Death's Touch.

3/23/41

The disease Corporis Soporatus, better known as "Death's Touch," has officially claimed the lives of the other fifty-one bunkers on the eastern coast of what was once the United States of America. The government has faltered, and everyone's been shut off from each other as communications have long since failed us. This time in human history may very well be forgotten in future generations as the mayor, the leader of our bunker, has decided to ensure that our children will never learn of the tragedies we faced on the surface. Honestly, I can't believe how stupid he is, but the rest of the committee was in agreeance, so I guess no one really understands what consequences this will have. Instead of the truth, we'll be lawfully forced to lie to the kids about what has really happened. Hopefully, this written recording of the events will fall into the hands of the next generation so that they will never forget.

The first known occurrence of Death's Touch popped up in 2020. By the year 2025, the entirety of the remaining world's population was drawn to create bunkers of safety. At first, it was believed that the disease killed each individual who had contracted it, but that was not the case. The disease actually slowed the victims' heart rates and set them into a comatose state where the bodies' immune systems couldn't fight it. Days or even just a few hours after first contracting the illness, the victims seemed to "come back to life". They never died, but they were never awake either. Despite the comatose state that they suffered from, the victims would often experience episodes of sleepwalking. They could walk, talk, and even hold normal conversations and everyday tasks, but they weren't awake. Because of this, their memories were patchy at best. Hence, I've dubbed the victims "Sleep Walkers".

We don't know how, but Death's Touch changed them. It is hypothesized that it affected the Sleep Walkers' amygdala which caused the heightening of their emotional experience. The Sleep Walkers experienced fear and anxiety constantly as though they were in a constant state of nightmares. Throughout the years of trying to treat it, I've discovered that they do respond to positive stimuli. They need something to hope for, to help them see the light through the shadows. Yet, the disease somehow changed them in other ways. Science cannot begin to explain what it was. They became monsters.

With everything that has happened these past twenty years, I can't believe that Paula and I made it with our three young ones. Since we began our lives here in the bunker, my wife and I have devoted our lives to finding a cure so that we can return to the beginning, before it all ended. Despite that though, I'm so happy to say that the end brought a beginning for my family and me.

Drake Mason

Leaning back into the chair, I stared out into the room while I tried to process what exactly I had just read. This is what he wanted to tell me for all of those years. Still, not all of the pieces connected the way that they should have. Did Dad really mean to tell me that those people who suffered from the disease, they were the monsters that roamed on this Earth with us? Those monsters were once people... How did this happen? Why would one of those Sleep Walkers kill him and come after me?

The knuckles on my hand felt tight and had whitened as I gripped the arms of the leather desk chair. A fit of despair choked me, leaving my lungs paralyzed. Why couldn't I have just listened to him? None of this would ever have happened!

An inky black substance spread through the skin on my forearms and seemed to envelope itself with the fear in my heart. My gaze was transfixed, every muscle immobilized, but my heart tripled its frantic pace.

"How could you do this to your family?" Fear chuckled, startling me from my transfixion. "He was only ever protecting us." She stood on the other side of the desk.

"No, no. Go away!" I stood up, knocking the chair backward and onto the floor.

"You can't run away from yourself, stupid." She smirked. Fear leaned against the desk, leaning closer to me. Her touch on the desk seemed to speed the decay as it melted beneath her hands.

"I am nothing like you!" I ran out from behind the desk and darted towards the hallway.

"I've told you; you like to hide me away and forget that I exist. I am more 'you' than you'll ever accept." Her voice trailed off the further away from her that I got.

"Why do you constantly run away from the things that you don't want to hear?" Fear appeared in front of me, causing me to collide with her. She didn't budge as I bounced back, holding my arm where a fresh bruise was sure to form.

"Did I run into you or the wall? Geez, you're like concrete." Looking up at her, I realized something. I was looking in a mirror. Fear's words resonated through my head: "I am more 'you' than you'll ever accept."

Everything around me turned narrow and thin like a tunnel. The feeling of my heart throbbing jolted the need to get away from it. My hands jittered with anxiety along with a dull headache beginning its treacherous pounding from the inside. The adrenaline was depleting quickly. I just wanted to lay somewhere and stay there, for forever at least.

An irritated and exhausted grunt escaped me as I made out the looks of the vault door a couple of yards away. I didn't want to go near it, but the closer I got, the more peculiar it looked. It soon became noticeable that the vault that I had fought with myself to close was opened. The depths of Level Two stared back at me with its vacant eyes.

"No, no, no, no, no..." I whispered, barely able to believe it. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. My own fears whispered back.

A strident shriek vibrated through the air. It was more feeling than noise as though the high-pitched decibels of its yell couldn't be heard by a human. Pure instinct shoved me towards the door, forcing it to shut. Just as the vault was an inch away from the threshold, the clang of claws against the steel stopped it in its place. A scaly, juniper berry-colored hand had been placed in between the vault and its threshold. The strength of the Sleep Walker far outmatched mine and blasted the door open with ease, shoving me to the side.

It towered over me as other Sleep Walkers rampaged their way into Level One. It just stared in a curious sort of way. As though it was trying to figure out what I was.

I took a chance, hoping that it wouldn't follow me, and bolted.