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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/JLGoodwin1990 on 2024-10-24 04:06:20+00:00.
Thursday, 3 July, 1952
I write today with, what feels like for the first time in an eternity, a shred of good news. Blake has given an initial inspection of both the radio and telegraphs, and has come to the conclusion that, while it will take a small amount of time, the damage dealt to both is within her means to repair. She has told us that it will take, with a combination of supplies found within the living quarters and from our own bags, a maximum of two to three days to get them back up to snuff.
I can also report that during Soren and Morretti’s watch as well as, accompanied by Corrin, my own, we saw and heard no trace of…whatever lies out there. I hold no delusions that they may have left, though; all throughout the night I could feel their eyes upon the fort. Especially when I passed a window. Several times I would stop in front of them, swinging my head around and squint into the blackness. Of course I saw nothing, but. The hair that rose on my arms every single time assured me that, if the night were able to withdraw and allow the secrets it covers to be visible, I would have borne witness to a sight both blood chilling and macabre in its appearance. In the past, I often wished that God had given us the night vision that large predators were bestowed with, but now, I am beyond thankful He did not.
For the most part, we have remained inside the living quarters, only venturing outside for brief periods of time to fetch water from the water garden. The fear and tension felt when doing so though is palpable enough to slice with a bloody razor, especially as it sits directly next to the main wall of the fort. When it was my turn to refill our canteens, my head swiveled around on my neck not unlike an owl’s, turning this way and that and feeling that if I allowed even a second to glance away from a particular spot, I would turn to find the last thing I would ever see gazing into my eyes. Fortunately, whether due to the material the fort was built with or its position against the mountains, the interior remained relatively cool, even as the noonday sun beat down to the point I could see, both up close and in the distance the air itself shimmering from the temperature.
I do have to mention one thing. Ever since Tarek fled inside the building the other day, he refuses to try and help us in any way. When asked by Morretti, all he would do is shake his head and repeat the words he spoke to us the other day, the words about the ones who live in the mountains, before retreating into a supply closet. He remains there, only coming out briefly for food or water before returning to it.
One other important thing to note. As we had some free time on our hands, I used it to further explore the living quarters, thoroughly checking every lockbox and supply case for anything we could possibly use. In most, I have found only medical supplies and, in the upper levels of the building, two cannons, along with fuses, gunpowder and half a dozen cannonballs. However, as I further explored the upper areas, I found a metal lockbox that, after breaking the aged lock with the butt of my revolver, held two flare pistols within. Each only has a single flare, already loaded inside with no sign of additional flares nearby. I showed them to Morretti and the others, who agreed that they would be stowed away to be used if any sign of life were spotted in the desert below. “These may be what end up saving our hides” Talley said.
The sun is setting now, and with the descent of the orange, almost blood red sun over the horizon, it feels like whatever safety we felt in the daylight is disappearing before my very eyes.
I pray we make it through the night.
Friday, 4 July, 1952
The screams…
I find it a struggle to put to ink and paper the abject horror and shock that I feel this morning. But I must, if only to try and help preserve the fleeting sanity that almost seems to precariously cling to me. Last night, Soren and I were tasked with taking the first watch, patrolling the halls and rooms until half past one in the morning, when we would rouse and be relieved by Morretti and Corrin. Soren carried the shotgun, while I remained with my pistol. Slowly, silently we moved through the building, occasionally convening to confirm no sign of trouble and poking our heads into the bunk room to check on the others. The only sound that could be heard, aside from the whistling wind and creaking of the ancient building, was the soft ticking of the watch on my wrist, its unstoppable march seeming to bring a little comfort to me.
That was when I heard it.
At first, I couldn’t identify the sound; it was too far off in the distance and too muffled to properly make out. It barely carried on the wind, almost being whisked away completely. But as the moments spilled over into minutes, I realized that it was slowly growing louder. Which meant whatever it was…it was getting closer. Feeling my heart begin to race in my chest, I raised my revolver and pulled back the hammer, my eyes straining to see into the darkness. The sound continued to increase in volume, and for a moment I froze. For a moment, I had almost recognized it. A shiver passed through me as I gripped the windowsill tightly in one hand, the other shaking slightly as I aimed the gun into the black.
That was when a hand fell on my shoulder.
I nearly jumped out of my skin, whirling around to find Soren standing beside me, the shotgun raised toward the ceiling in his free hand and an intense look upon his face. He looked at me. “I hear it, too” he said simply, in response to my unspoken question. For another moment the two of us stood there, straining our ears as we held by the window. The sound continued to grow nearer, and I felt another shiver pass through me. I couldn’t understand why, but I almost swore I recognized the sound. Finally, I whispered back to Soren. “What is that?” He remained silent for another moment or so. Then I saw his face go slightly pale in recognition, his expression changing from stone to clearly unnerved.
“…Screaming”
There was another stretch of silence between us as we both strained our ears. I prayed for a moment that he was wrong. But as the wind fell for a moment, I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice as it came again, clear this time. It was, indeed, screaming. What’s more, the source was unmistakably human. I had heard far too many men to count scream on the battlefield during The War. Heard men shriek their last after they had stepped on a landmine and lay, blown apart and rapidly bleeding out on the ground with it too dangerous to try and retrieve them. I heard the screams of captured Germans in the bunkers as operatives went to work extracting information from them.
These screams not only rivaled them but surpassed them. They were the most horrible, panicked and pained sounds I had ever heard a human being utter. It sounded nothing less than as if the screamer were being flayed alive, feeling every single cut and peel of their skin. And then the terror I felt compounded as a second rose up. A second scream. One which rose and fell beside the first, occasionally overlapping it until it sounded as though we were hearing the damned souls of Hell itself crying out for release. His eyes wide, Soren turned to me and said only three words.
“Rouse the others”
Soon, we all were standing by the window, every expression a mirror of the fear on the other as we listened to the infernal sound that, now, almost sounded as if it were coming from just beyond the sealed front doors of the fort. Blake clasped a hand over her mouth, closing her eyes and leaning against me; I wrapped an arm protectively around her, pulling her close to me as I looked at the others. Corrin looked as though he were about to faint from terror. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph…” he breathed. I saw Talley swallow hard. But it was the look that swept across Morretti’s face that drew my attention. It was one of recognition. He fought to find his voice for a moment, then softly spoke, his voice almost lost to the shrieks outside.
“Samir…”
Everyone turned to look at him at the single word he uttered. I felt a small wave of confusion wash over me. Then, if possible, I saw Soren’s face go even paler than it already was. “God almighty. That is Samir. And that other scream…I remember how Richter yowled when he broke his ankle a few years ago. That’s…that’s him” Fresh waves of horror rolled over us like the sea as the information sunk in. I had been on the same expedition with the two men when Richter had broken his ankle climbing a rock. I prayed to the God I hoped was listening that they were wrong. But in my bones, I knew they weren’t. I knew we were hearing the screams of our two lost compatriots. Talley suddenly began to turn towards the stairs to the lower floor, yanking his own pistol from his holster. “We have to help them!” he yelled, beginning to sprint away. Just as quickly, Soren and Morretti began to chase after him, telling him to wait. Still holding onto Blake, I jerked my head for Corrin to follow and hurried after them.
*When we descended the stairs, we found Soren restraining Talley, his face enraged in the flickering lig…
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