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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/googlyeyes93 on 2024-09-21 21:34:54+00:00.

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DAY 10

I cursed us by thinking the worst was over. Everything’s gone to hell again as we’ve reached the tenth day, everyone else catching up to where One was days ago and now showing the same signs. Four has managed to scratch his way out of his casts, though he’s no longer self mutilating. Five was hyperventilating in a corner, staring furtively around as he complained of the burning smell still.

I didn’t sleep peacefully, probably too much to ask after the past few days events. Instead, it was fitful, with constant thoughts back to what my own mother had gone through when fighting her own insomnia. She constantly spoke about others appearing near the end, with hallucinations taking hold hard as the condition worsened. In a way, she was lucky. The disease only took a few weeks to take her after the total insomnia took hold of her, and didn’t suffer any of these kinds of issues. Of course, it was it’s own hell, just like watching my grandfather pass from dementia years earlier, she broke down mentally and was barely my mother by the end…

Five began to scream in pain, saying that they were grabbing him all over, writhing on the floor in agony. I called Murray and Philip in, telling them we may be having a medical event, and they came rushing. I did a quick gas cycle, hoping it would clear everything before we stepped in, and we ran through the door as the room refilled with oxygen.

I don’t know how it happened. Five suddenly combusted, hot flames bursting forth from his body in a raging inferno. My theory is that the sudden influx of oxygen must have lead to it, but I wasn’t sure where the source of the ignition could come from. Murray pulled a fire extinguisher from the outside wall, spraying him down, putting the flames out.

Philip and I carried him out to the medical bay, trying to get some semblance of dressing on the wounds. They were pretty bad, skin charred and still giving off whisps of smoke. His screams were the worst though, like he was being tortured in the pits of hell while laying burnt before us. Despite the shock he should have been in, he was still screaming, begging us to get them off of him.

PHILIP: We’re going to try and fix you up, okay? Did you have matches, a lighter? Anything that could have caused the fire?

FIVE: They grabbed me. The hands grabbed me. All of them. Please get them off of me. Please!

As we stripped what remained of his clothes off, checking the extent of the awful burns, we noticed patterns different from the majority of his body.

Around his ankles and wrists were handprints, or more hand indentations, with even deeper burns, nearly down to the damned bone. Everything was cauterized nearly immediately at least, the heat searing blood vessels closed before any could escape.

We bandaged him as best as we could, leaving him to lay in the medical bay, hell with keeping the gas administered. One’s injuries were already giving us cold feet about the experiment, but after seeing a man spontaneously combust with nothing flammable in his reach… then seeing the awful marks of hands… I think we’re seeing something much, much worse than deprivation take hold.

We were shaken from each of our fearful contemplation by the sound of the gas alarm. It was getting ready to start pumping in more, alerting us to make sure the door was closed and sealed properly. We made a fatal error.

Though we were successful in sealing the door on time, Murray forgot to remove the spent fire extinguisher when we carried Five out. We only spotted it after the gas began pumping into the room, and by that time Two saw his chance at escape. There was no way of stopping the gas cycle once it was in process, and it wouldn’t stop until the sensor saw the air was totally saturated. Two smashed the extinguisher into our observation window, breaking through it in only three good hits. As glass burst inward, we all shrank back to the back of the room, Philip and I shocked, both immediately aware that we were, in scientific terms, fucked. The gas would take hold quickly, and as of yet, we were only administering more as a safeguard, unsure of the efficacy and time that it would last.

Whenever Two tried crawling through the broken glass into the room, he cut himself deep on the shards still in the window sill. Deep cuts down his forearms gushed blood as he made his way toward us,

Murray whipped a gun from his belt, pointing it right at the hulking man. He wasn’t able to fire off a shot before it was snatched from his hand by an invisible force, something determined he wouldn’t be killing Two.

In only moments we found out it was because whatever was there didn’t want us killing him because it wanted to do the honors. A whole chunk of flesh was ripped from his neck, blood flowing from the wound and soaking any still dry parts of his filthy clothes. He screamed, but that wasn’t the end of it. Before our eyes, he was knocked backward into the room, flat on his back on the tile floor. In only moments he was spread-eagle on the floor, arms and legs stretched to their limits and only being pulled further. Before long, the invisible force was pulling him like a damned drawing rack they would torture people with before electricity.

The gruesome pop is something I’ll hear for the rest of my life. As his limbs stretched, joints began to pop from his ankles and wrists, moving inward as elbows, knees, hips, and shoulders were pulled apart slowly, maximizing the pain he felt the entire time.

The other subjects were too stunned to do anything themselves, and now we had a whole different problem- the gas sensors outside the lab were alerted, initiating a lockdown procedure. Steel shutters came down over the only exits out, with windows getting the same treatment as emergency lights began to flash on. Through the red strobing, we could see the limbs on Two completely separate from his body, pulling off with one last sick POP before blood began flowing.

An intercom came on, giving a safety announcement. ALERT! Nerve agent has escaped outside of lab confinement. Please remain calm, and help will be with you shortly.

That was… five hours ago. Help hasn’t come, nobody will be either, I don’t think. I’ve been talking to Philip and Taryn, Murray’s been listening in too, and we all agree this was something planned all along. The bastards that gave us this grant and facility… think they wanted a true test of their nerve gas, and they got a great sampling of people to use it on in here.

Every time we try to call the emergency line we were given, even for the security guys, there’s nothing. Just a canned response of “Please remain calm. Help will be with you shortly.”

If the bastards wanted to help they would have done it by now. Looks like we’re just gonna be another casualty of Uncle Sam’s morbid curiosity though. Doubt we’re the first.

Jesus, the gas is… terrible. It feels like I’m back in college, on a permanent version of the coke and adderall cocktail that would keep me up for a couple of days to get through finals. This was more intense though, like an electrical wire running up my spine that kept me from sitting still.

The real tell that makes me think this was part of the plan all along- there’s no way to shut off the gas from in here. It’s controlled by a remote output apparently, with us only allowed to do the air cycling when needed. Otherwise it goes in ten minute intervals, though the sensor that tells it when it’s saturated isn’t going to make it stop anytime soon. It has to fill the entire facility now, after all. But nobody installs something like this without a killswitch if they’re not planning on fucking over everyone inside.

Despite mine and Murray’s attempts at breaking through the door, it was useless. We tried waiting for the dinner cook to arrive, hoping they would be able to get us out of here, but it looks like they were told to take the night off.

So, looks like I’m dying from insomnia before my own genetics can even take me. How fun.

—-

DAY 11

Two is still alive. His wounds where arms and legs were pulled off have scabbed over, but he’s definitely in insurmountable pain. One has left his room to watch him, saying that the girls are enjoying their retribution. He’s still complaining of the kids around him, but otherwise he hadn’t shown any more injuries. Maybe the injury to his skull was helping keep him safe somehow, but that’s a whole other matter.

All of us, the non-subjects at least, though I guess we’re all subjects now, have given up on any semblance of sleep or shifts. We’re trapped in here, and even if I wanted to tell anyone reading this where we were to come and rescue us, I have no fucking clue. They picked me up at the Denver Airport and carted me off into nowhere, so my guess is as good as yours. They knew what they were doing. Taryn says Philip and I are paranoid for thinking it, but it makes the most logical sense.

Despite the now-open observation window, the subjects didn’t make any effort to leave their area. Perhaps they know it’s pointless, that we’re compromised too and just as unlikely to make it out. Hell, maybe their karma is that we now get to experience this hell ourselves firsthand. I’m furthest along when it comes to time awake, with my time at three days straight now. To be honest, it’s not the worst I’ve gone through. The worst is that I feel tired, but I can’t settle my…

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