The Hades Facility: 'In the darkest depths, lay your darkest fears...' (The Prometheus Series Book 1)

by Oliver Tuson

  With that, they were all set to venture back into the hellish unknown for one final time. “Stay safe lads.” Millerchip said as bravo stepped into the airlock. “We got this.” Clarke responded with genuine hope as the door hissed shut.

  18

  Awakenings

  19:15, 15th August 2003

  Control Room, Hades Facility, Northern Iraq

  Bravo moved silently from control through the complex towards lab six. Millerchip was checking the cameras in control and reporting any movement over the radio. So far, nothing. Bravo team made good progress down the facility, eventually reaching the entrance to the lift leading down to lab six, and a possible freedom from the nightmare.

  “Open it.” Clarke whispered over the radio net as the team cautiously scanned for any movement or signs of danger. Millerchip operated the lift from the control room causing the large elevator doors to open. The team stepped in and the doors closed behind them. As the team stood in the lift descending on the journey down, Clarke imagined the guardian in the cage. Sat there in the centre with the researchers stood around it. Snapping and snarling in its confinement as it journeyed down.

  The lift came to a stop, the doors opening to reveal a scene more hellish than the stalkers nightmarish lab. The lighting was off, still on the emergency system. Red spinning lights dancing shadows around the area. Blood and bodies of researchers were strewn about the corridor and offices. Although Clarke had seen similar sights in the facility before, he could sense that this one was different… somehow. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just the fatigue of being on the brink of death for so long. The stress finally breaking him. Playing games with his mind. He shook it off and took a deep calming breath. So close. If he could just get bravo to the elevator and up to the daylight and safety. Then he could rest.

  Then it hit him. It was different. He led bravo into the lab to investigate the closest body. The body of a lab worker was on the floor. The wound to its neck clean and precise. The throat cut neatly. Too neat for those things that hunted them through the facility. Clarke looked across to another body close by. A bloody scalpel still grasped in its hands.

  “Jesus… they killed each other down here?” Sanchez said as he examined a few more of the bodies nearby. All of which displaying wounds inflicted by their fellow workers. One worker, his head smashed open, was lying next to the bloody fire extinguisher that another had used to make the kill. Another older man, dressed in the senior clothes of management, had been beaten to death. Now laying in a heap by an office door.

  “Not this one.…” Hawkins was knelt by another. A jagged piece of glass clutched in its hand from a smashed window. The glass the man had used to start to cut out his own heart. The severe self-inflicted wounds going deep into the man’s chest. So deep that Clarke could see the tissues of the lung and white, cracked ribs where the man had smashed them to get deeper before the loss of blood finally killed the researcher.

  “Why would someone do that? What the fuck happened here?” Hawkins said as he looked at the sight, thinking how much pain the man must have been in carrying out the horrific suicide.

  “Shit. Look at this.” Jasper shone his torch on to the wall by the corpse. What was written in the body’s blood across the wall made the team fall silent.

  ‘Only god can create life, not the devil!’ After a moment Hawkins looked back at the corpse. “Did he write that? In his own blood?”

  “If not him, then one of those other lunatics.” Sanchez said as he moved away to investigate further, walking down the corridor to enter the lab. The rest of bravo followed as the scotsman opened the door into the lab area.

  They crept in slowly, weapons raised and checking the corners. The lab was full of the same gear as the others. Massive freezers, computer terminals, research gear, everything you need to manufacture death and destruction, he thought. Actually, not manufacture, more like create, breed even. Like Prometheus creating and moulding man from clay, these lunatics were moulding the ultimate killing machines from natures best resources. Picking and choosing the best parts of nature’s finest predators. What evolution took millions of years to perfect, these people breed into their own creations. Creating their own deadly weapons of mass destruction.

  Bodies continued to be spread around the lab. All with similar deaths. Except one. A corpse was spread out on the cold lab floor. Familiar claw wounds and teeth marks across it. Lots of them. All it’s limbs and torso were covered in wounds. More than enough to kill the man five times over Clarke thought in disgust. Whatever had killed him, had enjoyed it. Had played with the man first. Slowly killing its prey at its leisure.

  As Clarke got closer, he could see that all four limbs had been torn off, twisted and pulled from the sockets, before being placed back in again. Or at least tried to be placed back in again. Clarke felt ill at the sight and looked away with disgust and horror of the act, wondering what the hell could have done such a deed. He moved on, wanting distance from the hellish image.

  Clarke led bravo through the long lab, past more bodies and death, towards a large thick glass door at the back. As they approached the door automatically slid open with a soft hiss. Stepping through they were greeted with another smaller lab. Its main feature was a large reinforced glass tank running along the back wall. Much bigger than that of the stalkers tubes. Empty. Whatever was in there had smashed its way out. Thick chunks of the glass lay around the floor that reflected the spinning red lights. And in their centre, close to the tank, was a decapitated head sat in a pool of dried blood. Its eyes staring silently at the team.

  Streaks were smeared away from the pool of blood toward a huge set of doors to the side of the lab. The massive doors had been smashed open, revealing the storage zone they were searching for. Whoever or, whatever had ended the decapitated head’s life, must have dragged its body into there, Clarke thought, his nerves on edge and body slightly shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was from the adrenaline, exhaustion, or the terror of the place.

  Bravo all shared a look. Clarke looked deep into his comrades' eyes. The team were tired. Broken. The whole day spent on a knife’s edge of death had taken its toll. But, they were still fighting. On the far side of that room could be the freedom they needed. The elevator to take them out of this hell they had been stuck in for so long. One last push. They all nodded as if reading each other's minds and moved cautiously towards the shattered door.

  They entered into the huge storage area. Crates and boxes lay scattered around the area. Large metal shipping containers run down one wall and a few dotted around the centre. The lights were working, but were weak. Offering just enough light to see the ceiling high above and the far wall. They illuminated a crane set into the back wall, just visible across the huge area. A shipping container hanging from the crane’s cable. As if someone had abandoned the machine mid job.

  Clarke smiled with satisfaction. Behind the Crane he could just make out the tops of the massive elevator doors set into the wall. Big enough to fit two shipping containers in. He imagined a helicopter carrying one of the containers over the desert towards the mountain they were stuck in. Its cargo hanging underneath the aircraft. Then dropping the supplies on to the elevator floor on top of the mountain before bringing it down, all the way down into the facility. The crane then pulling the containers off and placing them in the storage area to feed the facility’s needs.

  This place was incredible, he thought, almost with a sense of admiration. The supply chain was impressive. Keeping this facility going all the way out here in the middle of the desert. Creating its weapons of death and destruction. It suddenly dawned on Clarke just how big an operation this must be. Somewhere, people were shipping all the supplies and equipment they needed. All whilst trying to cover their tracks and keep it hidden. He wondered just how many people were involved in the operation. And just where they all were. He made himself a promise to find out as he gripped his pistol a little tighter and led bravo in.

  As they moved, they k
ept listening for any sounds of lurking death waiting to greet them. Any shrieks or snarls Clarke had almost become used too. Nothing. Clarke looked around at the closest selection of crates. It was a mix of research kit for the labs. One was full radiation protection. Gas masks and thick overalls. Another filled with regular laboratory kit such as glass tubes, gloves, googles and test-tube racks. More contained specialist equipment that Clarke didn’t recognise, and didn’t want to know what it was for.

  He signalled for the team to spread out and secure the area. Maybe whatever killed the man had gone. Maybe through the vents of this labyrinth like facility. Clarke crept on, then stopped suddenly as a rancid smell caught him by surprise. Screwing up his face he moved on and turned a corner around a shipping container.

  He almost slipped in a pool of blood leaking from a group of smashed animal cages. Their cargo laying around the area in various states of mutilation. The closest part, a goat's head was looking blankly at Clarke. Its mouth open. The tongue and eyes had been torn out and thrown to the side. He looked away fighting the urge to vomit at the hideous site of death.

  Millerchip had been watching the progress of bravo team over the cameras. Trying his best to operate the controls after Jasper’s quick lesson. He had watched them move from the control room, through the facility and working their way through lab six. All the while checking the surrounding areas for any sign of the creatures lurking around. So far, nothing. He watched as the team passed through the final stage of the lab and enter the storage area. The cameras didn’t help much from there. The huge room and the dim lights only allowed the camera to display blurry shadows through a rough grainy image. He sighed in frustration and simply stared helplessly at the screens waiting for them to emerge at the other side of the massive area.

  His attention was stolen from the screens as he heard a groan behind him. Spinning round quickly, he saw the woman trying to sit up on the desk she had been laying on, clutching her bandaged head as she tried. “Hey, easy there!” He said as he jumped up and moved towards her. His sudden movement made her flinch as her senses started to return. She tried to put up a hand as if to say stay back, but that was all she managed, still to dazed to speak or do more.

  Millerchip picked up on her actions and slowed down. “Easy, I’m not going to hurt you.” He offered up both of his palms to try to calm her as he kept walking up to the desk. She looked at the alpha leader and nodded slightly. Her memory coming back and senses returning after her coma. Millerchip approached her slowly and helped her sit up, gently spinning her legs off the side of the desk. She sat there, rubbing her head with one hand and the other helping keep her upright as she sat on the edge of the wooden desk. “Your safe now. My names Captain Millerchip.” He backed up slightly giving her space as he looked her in the eyes. “You took a blow to the head, quite a bad one in fact, but we fixed you up.” She nodded as she rotated her neck, stretching the muscles and trying to ease the pain she felt from the vent striking her. “What's your name? Do you know where you are?”

  “What? Oh yeah…Sarah… I’m in…” She stopped speaking as if still confused. Still suffering the effects of the coma.

  “Ok Sarah, just take it easy for now. We have a way out of this place. Soon you’ll be safe again.” He paused as he looked at her. Knowing full well that she was a part of the hell they were in. “Then you will answer my questions.” His voice was firmer. The weight of the day pressing down on him. He wanted answers, but he knew it was a balancing act with the patient.

  “No, no. There is no way out.” She looked up at Millerchip, completing missing, or ignoring his indirect threat. “This place, there's no way out.” Starting to feel more awake, she looked about the room. Her eyes betrayed the fact she recognised it. She knew this room. This control room that would have been for restricted personnel only. But she knew it, Millerchip thought to himself, trying to work out her value and just how much information she might hold.

  She used her arms to slide herself off the desk, stumbling slightly as her legs just caught her. Still half asleep from the coma. Millerchip lunged forward and caught her making her flinch again. He backed away a step and offered her a hand to support her. She nodded her thanks and took it. Using it to aid her walk from the office through to the control room, where she stabilised herself on the large table in the middle.

  Millerchip got her a bottle of water from a mini fridge in one of the offices and returned to offer it to her. She accepted it with a faint smile. Millerchip was suddenly caught off guard by her beauty. Her face was tanned, dark hair hanging from under the bandage framing her face perfectly. Her eyes were a stunning green, like emeralds that shone in contrast to her dark features. He wondered how she ended up down here in this hell.

  His voice took a sterner tone, reminding himself that she was a part of this operation that killed his men. “Listen, we are going to get you out of her. But I need you to tell me why your here? And what here actually is? I have a lot of questions and I want answers.”

  She nodded as she drank some of the water. Then stared down at the table thinking. Millerchip, with the death of his men hanging over him, began to grow impatient. He walked to the opposite side of the table and firmly planted his fists down on the surface, looking directly at her.

  “Listen, you're clearly a part of this place and my men have died to find it.” She continued to stare down at the table, either ignoring the man or unsure of what to say in response. His voice became even sterner, his patience for her hanging by a thread. “They died brutally this place… savagely!” She shook her head. Still unsure of what to do. Millerchip had had enough. He pulled out his pistol and slammed the butt of the weapon on the table making her jump. “Tell me!” He roared, his own words making his mind think of all the men he had lost on this day. It had the desired effect. She shook slightly in fear and held up her palms to indicate her submission.

  “Ok…” Her voice was shaky and slightly panicked at Millerchip’s display of aggression. Not what he expected from someone who helped create the death that stalked the facility as they spoke.

  “My names Sarah. I was here as personal assistant to the professor. Professor Richard Morgan. Head hunted from my previous job in London. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for…” She looked up at Millerchip and the weapon still clutched in his hand. Then pleadingly looked into his eyes.

  “I swear. By the time I took their offer, and landed here, it was too late.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I had it all. I had a great job, a fiancée back home, everything was great. But they kept contacting me offering me better contracts. In the end I couldn’t say no.” Her emerald eyes looked directly in to Millerchip’s as she sought his belief.

  “When I realised I’d made a mistake, it was too late. Others tried to leave before me. Good people who were questioning the ethics of this place. But they disappeared suddenly. I’m sure he had them killed.” She looked back down at the table, remembering the past. “He even announced they had disappeared. Announced they had questioned his ethics. As if he was using it as a warning. To keep the rest of us in line. Maintain the secrecy. I’m sure he disposed of their bodies by feeding them to the Scorpius in lab four.” She fell silent. Millerchip thought she might have started to cry but couldn’t quite tell. Either way, he pushed her on.

  “What is this place?” She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her palms over her damp eyes.

  “This place had one objective. To create chemical and biological weapons of mass destruction. Weapons that could wipe out entire cities, but leave them intact for use by the invading forces. Like the people simply disappeared.” She looked back up and at Millerchip who was listening intently, knowing what she said rang true to the evidence they had found so far.

  “Go on…”

  “At least that's how it started. It started with just chemical and bio-weapons. Gases, poisons, hallucinogens and all manner of weapons that could decimate a population and mil
itary. Poisons for water and food supplies that would kill cities. Toxic gasses that could cripple military forces, rendering them helpless. Hallucinogens that could be scattered into a city’s atmospheres, causing the inhabitants to fight and kill each other. Or even kill themselves. Horrible weapons, but they worked brilliantly.” She tutted and shook her head. “All illegal of course. Chemical weapons are banned as it is. Let alone creating and improving them to wipe out populations by the thousands… or millions.”

  Millerchip nodded as he further understood the mystery. “Hence we are all the way out here. In the middle of nowhere. Where if it goes wrong, it’s someone else’s problem. Another country to blame.” He stated.

  She nodded in return. “Exactly. And it did start to go wrong. Not because of the weapons but because of the people. Or at the least the boss. The professor.” She drank some more water.

  “As the chemical weapons evolved, Professor Morgan got a taste of just what they could do out here. Unchecked and hidden from the world. He changed the objective of the facility. Anyone who disagreed, disappeared.”

  “What did he do?”

  “What did he do? Jesus, where do I start! He had been a keen student of Greek Mythology. Particularly Prometheus.’

  “Prometheus?” Millerchip asked seeking an explanation.

  “Morgan told me the story once. That Prometheus was a Greek God who shaped man from clay. Moulding them to his own design and giving birth to man’s existence. Even gave mankind the gift of fire and advanced early primitive science. That gave Morgan the idea to start over. To create and mould his own creatures. His own weapons. Designed to achieve all of the facility’s objectives.”