One - The Lab
Welcome to Chapter One of my Science Fiction Horror - Pandemonium. Hope you enjoy it.
Warning: This story contains explicit language, graphic depictions of physical violence, and intense horror themes. Reader discretion is advised.
…Fortitude: Private research station
…ArcGenix Corporation
…Licence# AGC-262541319-2097
…Personnel 153
She had so little time left. They'd be coming for her soon, and when they did, it would be over - permanently.
Sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes. Not now. She blinked hard, desperate to clear her vision without losing focus. Her gloved hands trembled as they worked inside the chamber, each movement deliberate, the weight of every second pressing down on her. She carefully poured the contents of the two flasks together. The yellow mixture oozed out, thick and sticky like honey, but shimmering with a slight glow. It looked harmless, almost beautiful, but she knew better. This wasn't something any sane person would want inside them.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears, so loud she was sure they could hear it. A tremor vibrated up from the floor, jolting through her body and into her arm.
"Steady, steady," she whispered, trying to calm her hands. "You can do this."
She poured a little of the mix into a vial, her motion slow, controlled, battling the tremors that threatened to ruin everything. Her gloved hands inside the chamber, she pressed her face against her shoulder, wiping away a bead of sweat on her nose with her lab coat.
Deep breath. Final step. The vial was sealed, the chamber’s internal mechanisms humming as they transferred it into a padded container. The lid hissed shut, a spray of cold air escaping into the chamber. She gently pushed the metal case through into the sterilisation unit and tapped in the sequence to start the process.
Five minutes. Five excruciating minutes. "Come on, come on," she muttered as if her words could somehow hurry the machine.
As she watched the display count the time down, her eyelids grew heavy, the weight of exhaustion tugging at her. How many days had it been since she’d slept? Three? Four? It didn’t matter. Fear and adrenaline had carried her this far. Thoughts crept in - death, mistakes, much to still do, to put right.
Three years of her life, endless hours of research, breakthroughs that felt like miracles, only to be shattered by the reality of what she’d made. The world hadn’t given back what she thought she’d offered. Instead, it had handed her something dark, twisted. The morality of it gnawed at her. What kind of god led her to create this? None that she knew of.
She wondered what the world would make of this, of her. She couldn’t shake the thought that her creation was damnation itself.
But it wasn’t over yet. If she handed it over in its current state, there’d be no turning back. He’d cut her out, snatching away everything she’d worked for. She was sure of it. But not this time. She wasn’t going to make the same mistakes that she’d made with ArcGenix. This was her project, her imperfect creation, hers to fix, her legacy. He wasn’t getting his hands on it until she was good and ready. She was in control now.
A deal had been done. A new lab, a new team - she didn’t want them, but she had no choice. Her old team… she swallowed hard. They’d been good people. Now they were just more bodies added to the count. But science didn’t stop for grief. She had to go on. To put it right. The alternative… she refused to think about it.
The rapid beeping of the chamber snapped her back, yanking her out of her spiralling thoughts.
As she retrieved the sterile container an explosion rocked the room, light fittings fell from the ceiling and the entire workbench bounced. Her hand loosened its grip for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Her mind seemed to slow time down as it slipped from her grasp.
She lunged for the now tumbling container but overreached and her fingertips propelled it further away. When it hit the floor there was the distinct sound of the crunch of glass. Her instinct was to grab the rolling container and inspect the delicate contents, but that was never going to happen. It was way too dangerous. The sixth sample was lost.
Five - should be enough, she hoped, snapping the attaché case shut. Her eyes drifted to the sealed door at the far end of the lab, a mixture of regret and fear clouding her. Behind that door lay the true culmination of her work - not these vials, but something far more potent and terrifying.
She shook her head, banishing the thought of taking it with her. It would be suicide. It was too unstable, too dangerous. These vials would have to suffice.
'I'm sorry,' she whispered to the door. 'I'm so sorry.'
The sound of an explosion rocked the room, spurring her into action. There was no more time for regrets or second-guessing. She had to move, now.
Nearby gunshots followed by a scream echoed through the lab. Her breath caught. Another crash, louder this time.
"The door," she whispered, clinging to the hope that it would hold.
She grabbed her briefcase filled with research notes and the attaché case containing the precious vials and ran for the rear decontamination airlock. The door behind her exploded inwards, propelling pieces through the air. The ferociousness made her stumble, briefcase slipping from her sweaty grip, spilling its contents across the floor.
She could sense the rush of movement behind her, and she fought the urge to look back. She punched the pad so hard it hurt her fist. The door hissed open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond. She dived through the airlock, spun around and punched the pad. The door quickly sealed behind her. She was panting heavily. Her chest heaved. A moment of stillness followed as brightly coloured lights bathed her body. It did nothing to calm her.
Decontamination complete, the exit door opened behind her and she stepped into the corridor, her boots barely making a sound against the cold metal floor. The walls seemed to close in on her, the narrow space amplifying the distant sounds of chaos - more explosions, the groaning of the station’s failing systems, the strained whine of the air recyclers struggling to keep up. Every noise felt like a countdown, pushing her closer to the brink.
She moved quickly, her eyes darting to every shadow, every flicker of light. The attaché case weighed heavy in her hands, but she hung on to it tightly, as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her breath now coming in shallow gasps.
The shuttle bay was just ahead. She could see the door, a faint green light blinking above it, signalling that the bay was still pressurised - still accessible. But that didn’t mean it was safe.
Loud bangs echoed from behind her. She glanced back in time to see the wall bulging further into the corridor with each successive crash. Time was up. Move. Now.
As she reached to door, her trembling fingers hastily keyed in the access code, each beep of the console matching the frantic beat of her heart.
Error: Access Denied.
The words flashed red on the console screen. Her stomach dropped. No. That couldn’t be right. She stared at the error message, her mind racing. She was certain that was the correct code. It had to be.
“No, no, no,” she cried out.
Another bang echoed down the corridor, much louder this time. The floor vibrated beneath her feet. They were here. She forced down the puke rising in her throat. She didn’t have time for this. No time for mistakes.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She entered the code again.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened, the noise behind her terrifying. Then the screen blinked green, and the door slid open with a heavy clunk. Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived. She threw herself inside and slammed the pad hard. The door snapped shut behind her, locking tight.
For a moment, she allowed herself to breathe. Just one moment of stillness, where the only sound was her own ragged breathing. But then she recoiled as something hit the outside of the door so hard, the whole shuttle shook. If she was to survive, she would have to leave right now.
The escape shuttle was small, built for quick evacuations, not comfort. Four seats, a cramped cockpit, and barely enough room to stand. But it was enough. Enough to get her out of there.
She scrambled into the pilot’s seat, her fingers flying over the controls. The engines hummed to life, vibrating through the shuttle. She risked a glance at the rear camera feed, but the screen was a blur of static, useless. She cursed under her heavy breath.
“Launch sequence initiated. Launching in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ..,” the system’s passive voice announced.
The docking clamps disengaged with a jolt, and the shuttle drifted free of the station. Outside, the distant stars looked calm, a stark contrast to the chaos she was leaving behind. But she couldn’t relax - not yet. Not until she was clear.
She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. Whispering each number on it, she punched in the coordinates for the rendezvous point, her hands still shaking.
The shuttle lurched forward, picking up speed. The station grew smaller in the viewport, but the sense of dread didn’t lessen. If anything, it grew.
She was safe. For now.
The adrenaline that had kept her moving, kept her alive, was fading, leaving behind the raw terror. The monitor on her wrist beeped. Her pulse rate flashed on the screen - too high, dangerously high. She tried to focus on her breathing, slowing it down, counting each inhale and exhale. But the fear was refusing to let go.
Then she saw it. A thin line, just beneath the skin of her forearm. She stared, her breath catching in her throat. One of her veins… It was black.
A creeping coldness spread from that spot, and all the air seemed to vanish from the shuttle. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only stare at that single black vein, a silent scream building in the back of her mind.
Tears began to run down her cheeks.