Tape #19 - To Nobody In Particular

The bunker air hung heavy with unspoken anxieties, clinging to Dr. Walsh like a second skin. In the comfort of her office, she sat slumped across from Ava, a meager meal nearly untouched before them. Her spoon clattered against the glass container, the only sound in the oppressive quiet.

Ava, ever perceptive, watched her mentor with worried eyes. -"Doc, talk to me,"- she pleaded, her voice soft but insistent.

Dr. Walsh avoided Ava's gaze, her eyes flitting around the room. -"We can't stay here forever,"- she finally admitted, her voice barely a whisper. The confines of Level 3, once reassuring, now felt suffocating with the weight of their predicament. Leaving meant venturing into the unknown, potentially facing the monstrous anomaly she'd so miserably failed to contain. A gnawing fear festered within her. What if the creature had no problem breaching the lab while they slept?

The scientist's mind spun, a whirlpool of anxieties pulling her under. The near-untouched food before her was a testament to her turmoil.

-"Doc."- Ava's voice, resolute this time, pierced through the doctor's mental fog.

Dr. Walsh looked up, a weary resignation in her eyes. -"I know."- she sighed, her brow furrowed in deep thought. Ava offered a silent nod, the shared frustration hanging in the air as she continued to eat. The food had gone cold.

- - -

Somewhere within the bunker, the man who had stolen the files now hunched over them, uncomfortably perched in a chair meant for smaller bodies, like a heron in a robin's nest. The shadows danced among the towering bookshelves in the library, dim and mostly empty, except for a few kids reading aloud to each other in a corner. Still, it was just peaceful enough for the man to focus.

He switched on a small handheld recorder in his hand as he fixed his reading glasses over his nose, in preparation to open the folder. The file lay open before him, each page a portal to a world only his mind could decipher. He didn't need to read; he knew these pages like the lines on his own palm, each formula etched into his memory by countless sleepless nights fueled by ambition and a thirst for answers.

A flicker of concern danced in the depths of his eyes as they landed on the precise description of the genetic catalyst. The alchemical spark. His life's work.

He muttered under his breath, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the cavernous room. -"If my hypothesis is correct..."- He paused as he scrutinized the diagrams like a sample under a microscope. -"The anomaly could be born from the same element. Further evidence is required."-

He switched off the recorder and deposited it on the table. -"Oh, Evelyn..."- You could practically hear the wry, bittersweet smile in his voice. -"Just what have you gotten yourself into this time?"-