Chapter 49 Lockdown in Lab 944

Mike crouched down, pried the rifle from the dead man’s fingers, and slung it over his shoulder.

"No sense in wasting good gear," he muttered. Then, standing, he pressed a finger to his earpiece.

"Security Hub, this is Mike Dawson. We got a lockdown situation and—"

Static.

Mike sighed, shaking his head.

"Of course. Goddamn useless. Eather earpiece busted or Security Hub is done for."

They moved through the mangled corridor in a tense, single-file line, eyes flickering between the ruined walls and the grotesque growths of crystal creeping along them.

They reached the service ladder access—a heavy steel hatch built into the wall, still intact. Mike reached for the handle and with a sharp pull, the hatch groaned open, revealing a tight vertical shaft lined with rungs. A foul draft drifted up from the lower levels, carrying a stench of burning insulation and something rotten.

Akarui coughed.

“Oh, great. Smells like a sewer fire. If these creatures don't get us, the stench will.”

Mike looked between the two before resting his gaze on Akarui.

"Alright, I need to know who here can actually shoot straight. ‘Cause I ain’t about to hand out firepower like Halloween candy if you’re just gonna waste my goddamn ammo."

Akarui perked up, raising a hand slightly.

“My old man’s in the military. He took me to the range more than a few times. I know my way around a gun.”

Mike narrowed his eyes, scanning Akarui’s face for any sign of bluffing.

“That so? Alright, kid. I’ll take your word for it. For now.”

He reached into his vest and pulled out a sleek, well-worn M1911 pistol, pressing it into Akarui’s hands.

“Eight rounds in the mag. No safety. Don’t miss.”

Akarui tested the weight, nodding.

“Got it.”

Then Mike turned to Shachiku.

“And what about you, Mr. White Collar? Ever handled anything more dangerous than a goddamn stapler?”

Shachiku hesitated for half a second too long.

“I—uh. No. Never. I had swung my briefcase few times but that's all.”

Mike closed his eyes briefly, his lips pressing into a thin line like he had just heard the dumbest thing all day. He let out a tired sigh, rubbing his temple again.

“Great. Just great. We got a salaryman who probably needs the instruction manual just to figure out which end is which. At least kid knows his way around a gun.”

He reached into his belt and pulled out his 9mm Glock, tossing it toward Shachiku.

“Finger off the damn trigger! You don’t put that thing anywhere near the trigger unless you plan on shooting. And if you plan on shooting, you damn well better be sure it’s something worth shooting. Hold it. Point it at the bad guys. Don’t shoot me or the kid, and maybe you won’t get us all killed.”

He turned back toward the service ladder hatch, tightening his grip on his rifle.

“Now, listen closely. This is what’s gonna happen. I go first. You two keep your damn eyes open. Anything moves below us that ain’t human? You shoot it. No questions. Now, no whining and more climbing.”

He slung his rifle over his shoulder and grabbed the first rung. Mike climbed fast despite his age. Shachiku followed, his fingers slipping slightly on the cold, grimy rungs. Akarui muttered something about never skipping gym class again as he struggled to keep up.

They ascended past the first floor without incident. The second was eerily silent, save for the distant wail of an alarm somewhere deeper in the facility. Then, just as they neared the third floor—their destination—a heavy thud echoed from below.

Something had entered the shaft.

Shachiku looked down. Through the dim emergency lighting, he saw movement—a jagged, malformed limb curling around the lowest rung. Then another. The thing didn’t climb like a human—it crawled, its limbs twisting and gripping the walls like a grotesque spider.

“Shit! Oh shit!” Akarui shouted, “What the hell is that?”

They scrambled up the last stretch of ladder, muscles burning, as the thing below lurched upward, picking up speed. Its guttural clicking grew louder, vibrating through the metal walls.

Mike reached the third-floor hatch first and kicked it open. He pulled himself through and immediately spun around, reaching for the others.

 “Move it! Move it! Just climb, forget about shooting it!”

Shachiku was next. As he pulled himself up, he caught a brief glimpse of too many limbs thrashing below, jagged crystal shards protruding from what might have once been a human torso. The moment he was through, he turned and grabbed Akarui’s arm, yanking him up just as the creature lurched higher, its twisted, gaping maw inches from Akarui’s legs.

With a final desperate pull, Akarui tumbled into the hallway, gasping for air.

Mike slammed the hatch shut, smashing the crystal creature's face with heavy steel doors, sending it tumbling down. Then he jammed his combat knife into the locking mechanism. 

“That ain’t holdin’ forever. We move. Now.”

The hallway ahead was still intact—thankfully, the armory was just down the corridor. Red emergency lights flickered above, casting everything in eerie shadows. The air was thick with gunpowder, but at least there were no bodies.

As they crept past a partially sealed lab, a static-laced voice crackled from a half-shattered speaker above the door.

“They’re… inside. They’re… everywhere. If anyone’s still alive… listen. These things… they’re mutating the tissue. I was… I was injured. I’m locked in Lab 944… I want to live… please, someone help me. I don’t want to die in this pitch-black room…”

Mike stopped cold, rifle aimed at the reinforced window to the lab. Akarui shifted nervously behind him, and Shachiku leaned in closer to the door.

Mike squinted through the lab’s cracked observation window. Inside, slumped against the far wall, was a man in a tattered lab coat. He was injured, his radio barely held together in one trembling hand. The other hand clutched his side, and his breath came in panicked gasps.

Mike stepped closer, rifle low but ready.

 “We got a live one. Probably another egghead who didn’t get out in time.”

The man spotted them through the window and weakly raised his hand, his voice straining through the radio.

"Wait… who is there? Please... help me... Who goes there?!"

Mike glanced at the others, then punched the override panel. The door hissed and scraped open.

The scientist flinched as light poured into the room. He squinted up at them with sunken, wild eyes, his whole body twitching as if something inside was trying to get out.

“God… you gotta kill it—whatever this is. I was caught in the corridor when the first pulse hit. Something… something pierced the wall. I thought it missed me, but—” He winced, doubling over. 

“I can feel it in my bones.”

Akarui stepped forward, face pale.

 “Hey, man, what’s happening to you? Are you—”

The man’s breath hitched. His arm jerked. Not like a muscle spasm—like it was yanked by invisible strings. His fingers snapped open and shut uncontrollably.

“No—nononono—it’s starting again!”

He gritted his teeth and let out a pained scream, clutching at his arm. The sleeve of his coat tore as the limb swelled grotesquely, the skin darkening, pulsing unnaturally.

Mike raised his weapon. 

“Kid! Back up. Now.”

The scientist let out one final, ragged cry as the flesh on his arm split open, spraying thick black fluid across the tiles. The meat sloughed off in chunks, revealing not bone—but something alien.

His skeleton had transformed, growing into jagged red crystal, angular and sharp, gleaming like a weapon forged in some nightmare forge. And then… it moved.

The arm twisted against the rest of his body, clawing at the floor, then at his torso. He screamed, choking on blood, trying to hold the arm back as it jerked upward toward his throat.

“MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE—IT’S STILL ME!”

Mike didn’t hesitate. One shot. Center mass. The scientist slumped, dead. The arm twitched once more, then went still—cracking as it cooled.

Akarui stood frozen.

 “What… the hell WAS that?!”

Mike just stared down at the ruined corpse, jaw tight.

“Welcome to Helios-9, kid. Usually, our tours of the place not so graphic, must be some special accession.”

He turned on his heel, checking the corridor ahead.

“We’re wasting time. The armory’s close. And we just learned what happens if we wait too long.”

Shachiku said nothing. He stared at the ruined form, at the blood still slowly pooling out under the emergency lights and followed Mike without a word. He knew well the horrors this crystal plague brings.