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The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/Weird-Suggestion-152 on 2024-10-24 14:06:40+00:00.

I’d been working for the agency long enough to know when I was being fed a sanitized version of the truth. But when they briefed me about this particular operation, it didn’t matter how much they polished it up, something about it stank. I’m a Case Officer in charge of handling…let’s just say, unusual projects. I’d been on missions that bordered on the insane, but nothing had prepared me for what I encountered.

The operation started as a civilian scientific investigation. Typical university stuff. A team of researchers from the University of Alaska Fairbanks had discovered a section of dense, remote forest somewhere on the outskirts of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park. Unlike the rest of the vast wilderness, this particular part of the forest was different. It wasn’t just quiet; it was completely void of all sound. No birds, no wind rustling the leaves, no sign of wildlife. And according to the university, this eerie quietness was more than an oddity, it was scientifically impossible.

The university research team went out on a 7 day expedition to study the silent forest. When they missed their pickup time, the university reported them missing and requested the help of search and rescue teams. When the reports hit the upper echelons of government, we were brought in. The silence wasn’t just affecting wildlife. Communication devices didn’t work properly. No signals of any kind. GPS systems became erratic the moment anyone stepped foot inside the forest. Naturally, this raised all sorts of alarms for people like me, the kind of people tasked with ensuring things that shouldn’t exist stay off the public radar.

A new team was assembled, one that included me, security personnel, and a forest ecologist with decades of field experience: Dr. Jacob Holt.

Dr. Holt wasn’t some tree-hugging academic. He had spent twenty years studying environmental shifts in some of the most inhospitable places on Earth; forests, jungles, the Arctic. When I first met him, he looked the part. He was rugged, weathered, with rough skin from spending most of his life outdoors. His piercing eyes told me he was one of those men who wouldn’t break easily. Someone who had seen things.

We were joined by two operators, Masters and Greaves, there to provide security. They were the muscle, here to protect us from anything we may run into in that forest. Their faces were unreadable as they stood at attention by the helicopter, decked out in tactical gear that looked more suited for a war zone than a forest expedition.

I shook Dr. Holt’s hand as we loaded into the chopper. “You’ve been briefed?” I asked.

“Only enough to know that this forest is unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” he replied. His voice had that quiet confidence that came from years of experience.

As the helicopter’s rotors roared and we ascended into the skies, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something that I wasn’t prepared for.

The ride was uneventful, the view beneath us a sea of endless forest stretching in every direction. The place where we were headed was so remote, there weren’t even trails leading into it. No one had any business being out there. And yet, here we were, flying straight into the heart of it.

When we landed at the drop zone, Masters and Greaves fanned out, securing the perimeter while we gathered our gear. There was no wind, no sound except for the hum of the chopper’s blades and the dull thuds of our boots on the soft ground.

The pilot gave us a nod, signaling he’d be back in 48 hours. I raised a hand in acknowledgment, and then the helicopter rose back into the sky, its roar shrinking into a faint hum before disappearing completely.

Once the helicopter was out of sight, the silence hit us fully. It was immediate. Absolute. The kind of silence that presses in on you, makes your ears strain for any noise, any sign of life. But there was nothing. There was no sign of the university research team.

“Ready?” I asked Holt as we looked toward the forest.

He nodded, squinting into the tree line. “I’ve seen a lot of forests, but none like this.” Holt adjusted the straps on his pack, glancing at the forest surrounding us. “Welcome to the quietest place on Earth.”

The forest was dense, dark, and unwelcoming. Based on the university team’s expedition plan, we were able to determine their campsite was about 12 kilometers from our drop zone. Their camp was our first planned target.

I glanced at Dr. Holt, who was already focused on the forest ahead, his expression unreadable. Masters and Greaves seemed unfazed; their weapons held casually but ready.

Holt pointed toward the trees. “We go in, keep a close formation. If anyone hears anything strange, sees anything out of place, speak up. We’re not just dealing with a lack of sound here.”

“What do you mean?” Greaves asked.

“I mean, nature doesn’t just turn off,” Holt replied. “No, there is something causing this.”

We ventured into the forest, the thick canopy blotting out much of the daylight overhead.

I’ve been in some eerie places before, and dealt with some unexplainable things. But this… this was different. I wasn’t sure what I had expected, but the absolute silence that engulfed me wasn’t it.

“Sure is something else, isn’t it?” Holt said quietly as he walked next to me. He didn’t have to raise his voice. There was no other noise to drown out our conversation, no chirping birds, no rustle of the wind through trees.

I nodded. Masters and Greaves moved with precision and purpose. Masters, the taller of the two, had that sort of casual confidence that only came with experience. Greaves seemed more skeptical, methodical, his sharp gaze scanning the forest as we walked.

But even they, hardened as they were, seemed unsettled by the unnatural stillness.

We walked all day before we made camp at the edge of a clearing, just inside the tree line. Masters and Greaves busied themselves setting up a perimeter, their footsteps muffled by the thick, spongey forest floor. No one spoke much. We were all unnerved by the unnatural quiet, even though none of us would admit it. My own thoughts felt too loud in my head, and I found myself straining to hear any sign of life.

There wasn’t any.

“Tell me, Holt,” I said as we unpacked our gear, breaking the silence. “What exactly did the university team report before they went off-grid?”

Holt crouched down to check his instruments, the faint scratching of his pen against the paper sounding oddly loud. “The initial team detected an acoustic anomaly in this region. No natural sound. It drew their attention because areas like this don’t exist naturally. At least, not for long. Animals move in, wind passes through, water flows. Something always fills the space.”

“And here, nothing,” I said, stating the obvious.

He nodded. “They sent back some preliminary data showing that the forest was absorbing sound at a rate that defied explanation. Then… their transmissions became garbled. They went radio silent three days ago. The university was funding pure research. When it got weird, you all stepped in.”

“Great.” I looked around at the silent, still forest. “So, any guesses?”

Holt was quiet for a moment, glancing at the trees, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t know. This isn’t my usual area of expertise. I’m a biologist, not an acoustician, but… there’s something wrong here. The air pressure feels… off. Almost like we’re underwater, but without the sensation of depth.”

Masters joined us at the fire pit, sitting on a log he had dragged over. “Feels like we’re in a bubble,” he said, his voice flat. “The air feels heavy.”

I nodded. I had felt it too, a weird density to the space, like the air was pressing in on us.

Greaves was pacing the perimeter, checking the motion sensors he had set up. He came over, his face grim. “Nothing on the scanners, no heat signatures. No wildlife.”

“No movement at all?” I asked.

“Not even a squirrel,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

We settled into an uneasy silence. The silence made it hard to focus, hard to carry on a conversation. Time seemed to stretch, and the usual sounds of a camp weren’t there to ground us. I checked my watch. It felt like we had been on the ground much longer than we had. It was as if time had slowed along with the sound.

As night fell, we set up our tents and tried to settle in. Night came quickly in the forest, swallowing the weak daylight with urgency. The silence became even more intense in the darkness.

Lying in my tent, I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and consistent in my ears. But beyond that, there was nothing. No nocturnal animals stirring. It was unnatural.

That night, I struggled to sleep.

I don’t know how long I lay there, my mind racing in the silence, but at some point, I became aware of something else. The sound was subtle at first, then grew louder. It didn’t come from the outside, but from within.

I could hear my own breathing. I could hear my blood pulsing through my veins, the creak of my joints when I moved. It was like my body had become amplified; every internal sound magnified in the absence of external noise.

I tried to shake it off, but the longer I lay there, the worse it got. The absolute silence mixed with the sound of my bodily functions made me feel nauseous. I could feel something, a strange pressure, like something was trying to squeeze out every sound, including the ones inside of me. …

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