The screeching inside the science lab reached an unbearable crescendo, disturbing anyone who dared approach the door. It was enough to frighten anyone away from the laboratory, making them reluctant to fulfill their duties. Yet, there were some who found a perverse enjoyment in it-the agonizing screams of the deranged woman in room 73, echoing relentlessly
The cacophony seemed to grow louder with each passing second, yet perhaps that was merely due to her unyielding wails. However, the true horror for those working in this facility lay not in the sound itself, but in the suffocating guilt that loomed over their daily lives. They were acutely aware of the nature of their work within these walls-hell, across many other rooms in this laboratory. This particular room, however, bore the brunt of moral decay more than the rest
None of the individuals who had joined this project a few years prior had signed up for such grotesque undertakings. Yet, the lucrative pay was a compelling lure-very lucrative, indeed. So enticing, in fact, that only one person had resigned thus far, a decision driven by the inhumane experiments conducted within these confines. Those who remained were well aware of the ethical implications of their actions, yet most were too frightened to voice their dissent or align with the lone defector
Why would they choose to side with him? They were ensconced in well-paying positions, many harboring aspirations to ascend the professional ladder. This science laboratory, after all, was designed for ambition. Not everyone would shy away from a challenge so easily

**************************************

Among those unwilling to cower was a particular young man who had recently dropped out of college. After two years of grueling study and accumulating nearly $100,000 in debt, he had come to the painful realization that his dreams might be unattainable. He suffered from an affliction-not one that threatened his life, but one that hindered him from pursuing his desired career path
This was how Gus Atkins found himself at this juncture. Once a popular figure in school, he had a knack for drawing attention and cultivating friendships. His intelligence served him well, although he concealed it from his peers, fearing it might alienate him from them. This was a harsh truth, especially among the group he associated with until seventh grade.
While he and his mother were no longer struggling as they had in his childhood, they were certainly not thriving. Life had been unkind to them; his mother had been abandoned by her husband mere weeks after Gus's birth. She bore the weight of knowing her son faced numerous challenges-issues he was blissfully unaware of at the time. That would soon change, however, with the events of a single day
The car crash that claimed his mother on January 13, 2013, was a cruel twist of fate. He was told he was fortunate to have quarreled with her that morning, leading her to attend a church event without him. He had opted to stay home, aspiring to become a scientist and dismissing the notion of a deity.
As hours dragged on past her expected return, anxiety crept into his mind-not the dread of death, but the gnawing fear that she might have left him, just as his father had. He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, convinced that it was somehow his fault. He sensed that his mother harbored similar feelings, as evidenced by the way she frequently reminisced about their once-strong bond, her face twisted in anguish. Though she might not harbor resentment toward him, her turmoil was palpable.
He often sensed that she wished he had never been born, a sentiment that stemmed from the mental challenges he faced-challenges that needed addressing. She was working on it, but navigating their relationship was arduous. He was a bit of a rebel, a trait his school friends admired, yet it was not a beneficial one. This rebelliousness was causing significant tension between them, exacerbating the already strained family dynamics
Since her parents had both passed away a few years prior, the concept of family felt altered and diminished, particularly as her brother seemed indifferent to their plight. Nevertheless, none of that mattered at the moment, for Gus was anxiously awaiting his mother's return. Worry began to gnaw at him as he tapped his fingers against the hard, brown wooden table, each thud echoing his impatience
Then, his small flip phone, a relic gifted by his mother, began to ring. Unlike the iPhones his friends flaunted at school, this phone rarely saw much use. He glanced at it for a moment, bemused that he was receiving a call. He typically only received calls from his mother, which meant she must be trying to reach him to explain her tardiness
With a rough grunt of frustration, he finally grasped the phone and muttered under his breath, "Great... Let me guess, you picked up some guy and are off to live a happy life together?" The thought made him bite down on his lip, for deep down, he didn't want that; he believed his mother was better off alone
Shaking his head to dispel those thoughts, he focused on the text displayed on the screen. The number calling him was indeed his mother's, suggesting there was a reason for her being hours late. He quickly opened the flip phone and pressed the answer button, his voice loud and impatient as he spoke.
"Come on, Mom! Where have you been this entire time? You're hours late! Are you at least bringing me back some food from the church?" He awaited a response, half-expecting she might have accidentally called him-something she had done on several occasions. His name and number were the first on her call and text list, and despite his disdain for the phone, he knew she cared deeply for him; he was the most important person in her life
Yet, the life Gus was soon to discover was one that no longer existed in this world, perhaps not even in the universe, depending on one's beliefs
Finally, a voice emerged from the other end of the line, but it was not his mother's. Instead, it belonged to an unfamiliar man. Gus recoiled slightly from the phone, confused, wondering if this was the man his mother had met. Yet, he doubted that; his mother would never allow a stranger to approach her son so easily.
No, this was something entirely different, and the tone of the voice speaking into his ear unsettled him.
"Uh, son... I'm sorry to say... this is the first number we found on her phone list..." the man began, struggling to convey this distressing message in a way that might offer comfort to the young boy. It was evident to him that he was speaking to a child, a realization he had anticipated upon seeing the image displayed when he pressed 'call
This was one of his first days on the job, and he felt a wave of nerves wash over him as he prepared to deliver the heartbreaking news-that Gus's mother would not be coming home tonight.
"What exactly do you mean, sir?" he asked, striving to speak to the man as politely as possible. It was a principle his mother had instilled in him: to always maintain good manners around unfamiliar individuals
"I'm sorry... Your mother... You are her son, correct?" the officer inquired quietly, his voice low and hesitant. It was a foolish yet obvious question, but he felt a surge of anxiety about delivering the unfortunate news to the young boy, especially given the gruesome scene unfolding before him-the large car crash that had occurred on Nevada State Route 375.
It was not a particularly busy highway, especially on an evening like this. Yet, by some cruel twist of fate, a dark cloud seemed to have enveloped the sky for just a few seconds as several vehicles passed one another, leading to the horrific scene the officer was now witnessing. He found himself momentarily lost in the gravity of it all, forgetting he was still on the phone until a loud voice jolted him back to reality
"Yes... I am her son. What are you doing with her phone? Are you my dad or something?" Gus responded, a hint of high-pitched excitement coloring his tone. He had always yearned to meet his father; his mother had spoken of him with such reverence, despite the fact that he had left both of them when she needed him most. It pained her, but deep down, she knew she still loved him, and Gus was acutely aware of that love
Thus, the prospect of speaking with his father filled him with anticipation. After all, they were devoted churchgoers.
"Errr... No... I am not your father... I have some terrible news to share," the officer replied, his heart sinking further into the melancholy of the situation. It was evident to him that the boy had no father, and soon he would tragically discover that he no longer had a mother either, which explained the officer's reluctance to continue
Gus sensed a shift in the man's tone. Although he was popular at school, he was also one of the brightest students there, which was no small feat considering the size of his middle school.
However, those thoughts quickly faded as an unsettling fear began to creep into his bones regarding the man's ominous words. "Terrible news?" he asked, anxiety blooming within him as he contemplated why a strange man was using his mother's phone. A fleeting thought crossed his mind-had his mother been kidnapped? It seemed absurd, but he loved her deeply and felt a wave of concern wash over him
"Yes... We just managed to access her car. I found her phone and was assigned to contact whoever is important."
Gus, ever perceptive, began to piece together the grim reality. The implication of the man's words became painfully clear.
"The car? What were you doing in my mother's car?" he demanded, his eyes widening with fear as he braced himself for the news he was about to receive.
"I'm sorry, son..." the man said, a phrase that irritated Gus deeply. The reference to him as "son" only served to heighten his annoyance.
"I'm not your son... Can you just tell me what the hell is going on?" Gus replied, his patience wearing thin. He was on the verge of ending the call; he had never been one to engage in lengthy phone conversations. However, he understood that his mother could be in serious trouble at that moment
"Sorry, kid..." the man began, still fumbling over his words. Gus's irritation grew even more at the use of that word, but he refrained from mentioning it
"Look... Can you just explain why you have my mom's phone? Are you conducting some sort of ritual sacrifice?" he asked, a hint of dark humor lacing his frightened tone. This was how he coped in difficult situations, often resorting to jokes, particularly given that his family adhered to an unusual and strict interpretation of the Christian faith-one of the reasons he loathed attending church
The officer found the boy's comment peculiar, leading him to suspect that Gus might be grappling with some mental issues. He realized he didn't want to prolong this conversation any further and opted to speak more directly to Gus
"No, Gus... Your mother is dead. She was involved in a car crash. We just managed to retrieve her phone and contact you... We thought you should know..." he stated, a heavy weight in his voice
As those words reached Gus, it felt as though his heart had plummeted into the depths of despair. His entire world seemed to collapse around him in an instant, leaving him with nothing more to say than
"Oh..."

**************************************

Momentarily distracted from his troubling thoughts, found himself instead fixated on the woman screaming in room 73 as he traversed the corridor, feigning diligence in his janitorial duties. He was one of two janitors employed at this facility, typically working long, late shifts-a routine he had come to accept, despite the inherent humiliation of the role. In his younger years, he would never have considered such a position; he had harbored far more ambitious aspirations
It was a well-known fact among the staff that some of the scientists, who were nowhere near Gus's intellectual caliber, often derided him, hurling insults reminiscent of his own childhood bullying. The incessant mockery was something he found intolerable. "It's as if they're all just a bunch of little kids..." he muttered to himself, as he began to mop the corridor floor beneath him
His colleague Zachary had mopped this area only an hour prior, but Gus paid little heed to that; his focus remained on the distant screams of the deranged woman in the adjacent room. Strangely, the cacophony provided a sense of solace amid the chaos. He closed his eyes and began to hum softly to himself
Though he feigned ignorance of the turmoil within the room, the screams pierced through his thoughts, offering a peculiar joy that was soon interrupted. "Gus! What the hell are you doing here?" Zachary's voice broke through, startling him. Zachary, the other janitor who often shared shifts with him, stood beside him
Suddenly jolted back to reality, Gus opened his eyes and turned to face his friend with a grin, as if this were all a lighthearted jest. "Well... What the hell does it look like to you?" he retorted, gesturing toward the mop he had carelessly dropped on the floor
As he bent to retrieve it, Zachary squinted at him, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I mopped this spot an hour ago. We only clean our designated areas once per shift. Get the hell out of here before you get yourself into trouble." The urgency in Zachary's tone was palpable; this part of the facility was a forbidden zone, shrouded in secrecy
Yet Gus remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on the glass wall before him. It was as if he were a superhero, peering through the barrier, or perhaps a cop on the other side of a significant case. He rolled his eyes, attempting to dispel such fanciful thoughts
"Then you know why I'm here..." he replied, locking eyes with Zachary, narrowing his gaze as if trying to peer into his very soul. Zachary, visibly uncomfortable and anxious, recognized precisely what Gus was alluding to. They both shared a common dream: the aspiration to become scientists. For Zachary, however, it was merely a pipe dream; he was acutely aware of his own limitations in intellect and determination.
"Dude... this is a terrible idea, and I think we need to leave now..." Zachary urged, gripping Gus by the shoulder as he spoke.
Gus largely dismissed him, annoyance bubbling beneath the surface at his friend's reluctance to proceed further. He shot a cruel glance at Zachary before responding. "Fine... then leave. I'll exclude you from this one. I mean, if we get caught, what's the worst that could happen?" he said, swallowing hard immediately after
Zachary grinned at Gus's bravado, both of them harboring the same unspoken thoughts. "I don't know what the worst thing that could happen is... Tell that to our friend who quit the project at Area 51..." he retorted
He was, of course, referencing the man who had abandoned the project due to the sinister activities taking place within the facility. Since then, he had never been heard from again. The higher-ups claimed he had simply been reassigned, but no one believed a word of it
"You know... some people actually want to live their lives and explore, rather than hide and dream. Dreams aren't real, Zach..." Gus countered sharply
Zachary felt a pang of hurt from his friend's words. Anger surged within him, causing him to stomp his feet on the ground. "Just because you're smarter than me doesn't give you the right to treat me like trash..." he began, but his voice trailed off
The eerie silence enveloped them as the woman's screams abruptly ceased. She had paused to catch her breath intermittently, but this time the silence stretched on unnervingly long.
As the realization of the absence of noise settled in, Gus and Zachary exchanged alarmed glances. Gus's eyes widened as he broke the silence. "You know what... I think you're right, Zachary... Let's get out of here..." he said, a shiver racing down his spine.
He couldn't shake the feeling that something was profoundly amiss. The woman had screamed incessantly, day and night, and now it was as if her voice had vanished entirely. Zachary looked back at Gus, fear etched on his face. "I told you so... Come on! I know a quick way out!" he urged, gesturing toward a nearby corridor
Gus hesitated for a moment, reluctant to abandon the area, but an instinct deep within urged him to follow Zachary. He seemed momentarily lost in thought, but in an instant, he snapped back to reality. Blinking, he replied, "Right... I'm coming!" as Zachary began to scurry away. Gus followed closely behind, quickening his pace
Zachary's heart raced in his chest as they reached a safe distance. He turned to Gus, shaking his head. "What did I tell you, man? You're going to get us into trouble... Try to avoid that place as much as you can..." he admonished, his tone urgent
Zachary knew his friend would likely ignore the warning, yet he felt compelled to speak up, especially since Gus now appeared genuinely disturbed.
Gus looked back at Zachary, his eyes darker than an eclipse. "I wonder what the hell got that thing to shut up?" he remarked, referring to the woman as 'that thing' rather than acknowledging her humanity.
It felt easier to dehumanize her in such a manner. Zachary, noting the chilling way Gus had phrased it, chose to overlook it and let out a rough sigh before responding. "I think it's best not to find out..." he muttered, a shiver coursing through him once more.

**************************************

"Dear God Almighty! It's about time that thing shut up!" the senior scientist exclaimed, a malevolent smirk creeping across his face. He relished in the knowledge that what they were doing was profoundly inhumane, having long since abandoned any hope in humanity.
The younger scientist, visibly disturbed, cast a glance at his older colleague. "That thing is a human, Mitchell..." he replied, his tone lacking the coldness of his counterpart. He gazed sorrowfully at the frail, wretched old woman before them.
Mitchell maintained his sinister grin for a moment longer before shaking his head at John. "Oh, John... I sometimes forget that you are still new to all of this. This is Area 51, good sir! Everything we do here is... well... you know..." he said, his voice laced with condescension.
A wave of guilt washed over John as he came to terms with his complicity in this grotesque endeavor. He shook his head, responding to Mitchell with a hint of resolve. "Yeah... I know. Now let's focus on our task. We need to determine if she is even still alive. So far, our studies and tests have yielded negative results..." he remarked, glancing at his watch, despite having no reason to do so. It was a desperate attempt to avoid looking at the limp figure before him.
Mitchell continued to grin as he stared at the woman, then turned his head back to John. "Well... you are trained. Why don't you check her pulse? See if she's still alive," he suggested, his indifference palpable.
This project was meant to be the one that cured most forms of cancer. Though it had failed with their human lab rats, they believed a breakthrough was imminent. To Mitchell, that was all that mattered: being the man who saved the world, regardless of the dark and malevolent actions required to achieve it. John's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Why don't you? Aren't you supposed to be better trained in this sort of thing? This woman gives me the heebie-jeebies..." he admitted, gulping as he locked eyes with the woman's vacant stare. He was increasingly convinced that she was indeed dead and felt an overwhelming urge to move on to the next subject.
Mitchell replied, "Well... you need the practice, and you'll have to learn eventually. I won't live forever, and even if this cure were to grant us immortality... well, I doubt we'd be working together for much longer," he said, still grinning.
John found Mitchell's arrogance grating, and he bit his tongue, muttering under his breath, "That would be fine with me..." He knew he didn't truly mean a word of it.
Mitchell didn't hear what John had muttered under his breath. His hearing had significantly deteriorated with age, compounded by the loud experiments he had conducted in the past. John extended his hand, as he had been trained, reaching for the woman's wrist in search of a pulse.
As soon as his fingers brushed against her skin, the woman flinched slightly. Taken aback, John jumped back in surprise, glancing at Mitchell, who maintained his sinister grin.
"What are you waiting for?" Mitchell urged, impatience creeping into his voice. He was tempted to check for himself but recognized that John needed the experience.
"I think it's alive... It moved..." John stammered, pointing at the woman, who continued to jerk and convulse involuntarily.
Mitchell, undeterred, squinted at the woman before responding in an irritable tone, "If it's dead, those could be mere post-mortem twitches... a normal reaction from the brain," he asserted, recalling similar occurrences in other subjects, though not to this extent. Even he couldn't deny that this was troubling, and discomfort washed over him as John spoke again.
"I'm not going near that thing... I'm sorry..." John declared, stepping back several paces, feeling as though he were resigning from his position.
Mitchell, annoyed by John's fear and revulsion, rolled his eyes. "Christ... I sometimes forget you're still just a kid," he scoffed, hurling an insult at his apprentice.
Feeling stung by the remark, John lowered his head and muttered, "Sorry... It's all still new to me..." His response felt inadequate, a poor excuse in the face of their grim reality.
Nonetheless, Mitchell was ready to move on to the next phase of their work: confirming the woman's state. He reached for her wrist with far more confidence than John had mustered, hoping to find a pulse. The woman contorted violently before abruptly stopping.
"Well... it appears she's truly gone. Such a shame... On to the next one," he stated flatly, reaching for his notepad to document this failure.
John, still grappling with nausea and guilt, turned his gaze away from the woman and Mitchell, questioning his life choices up to this point. "Okay, to the next one, he says..." he muttered, staring blankly at the wall for what felt like an eternity before finally closing his eyes
Mitchell diligently recorded his notes before closing the notepad and heading toward the exit. "Alright, John... it's over now. Let's get out of here and return to our families. I could use some family time. What do you say?" he suggested, feigning enthusiasm.
Deep down, he was frustrated by another failed project, his rage simmering just below the surface, evident in his clenched fists. John, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions, dropped his clipboard and turned back to Mitchell.
"Look, Mitchell... I support your efforts to combat cancer, but I don't know how much longer I can endure this. We're killing people-" he began.
But just as he was about to finish, Mitchell's eyes widened in shock, his attention drawn behind John. He halted abruptly, pointing at the now-alive woman. "Killing people?! I think not! Your lady is alive! This is incredible! This could be a monumental breakthrough!" he exclaimed, excitement radiating from him
Confused, John turned to where Mitchell was pointing. To his astonishment, the woman was indeed alive, thrashing against her restraints. "Dear God! I was wrong! We've done it!" he exclaimed, still wrestling with the moral implications of their actions
At that moment, it felt as if everything they had worked tirelessly for might have finally borne fruit. "Alright, John... you've got the sample containers on you. Now go get some!" Mitchell urged, his excitement bubbling over as he prepared to continue their work.
John stood in immense shock at the sight before him. He quickly reached into his lab coat, retrieving the vials and blood samples for testing. The woman continued to move as she had before, yet she was no longer screaming as she had for the past few weeks
"I think we might have actually done it... She doesn't seem to be in pain anymore!" John exclaimed, leaning closer to the woman. Suddenly, he was tempted to ask her to speak, but he hesitated, wary of pushing her too hard after her miraculous return from the brink of death
"We certainly did... Now let's get those containers and send them back to the lab. Let our chemical experts figure things out from here. How does that sound?" Mitchell suggested
"Sounds great to me..." John replied with a grunt
As he drew nearer to the woman, she seemed to abruptly stop moving. For a few moments, John wondered if she had died again, but those thoughts were swiftly dispelled as he noticed her clearly blinking her eyes. It was evident that she appeared more composed
"Alright, ma'am... I apologize for taking it this far. You'll see that it will all be worth it in the end... I promise..." he assured her.
Yet, she did not respond or react to his words, seeming lost in a vacant, void-like state
"You are destined to be remembered in history, ma'am... The woman who cured cancer. Once we get you out of here, you'll have a comfortable life and financial security for the rest of your days! I swear it!" Mitchell proclaimed to her, a rush of fervor in his voice
He knew that what he had said was a lie, but it felt instinctual to offer her some comfort, hoping it might ease her plight. The woman showed no sign of acknowledgment, and Mitchell felt an unsettling indifference wash over him as he returned to his notepad to correct his earlier errors
Just then, John reached toward her neck, his hand mere inches from her mouth. The woman remained unresponsive, her strained features betraying no emotion
"This is only going to hurt a little bit, ma'am! I promise! It will be quick!" he said, attempting to reassure her. He was uncertain of the pain involved, having never undergone such a procedure himself, but he intended to keep his promise of speed.
He swiftly inserted the needle into the woman's neck, and just as he prepared to draw the blood and remove the needle, the woman suddenly lashed out at him, leaping towards his arm and sinking her teeth into his right forearm
"Ah! What the hell! She bit me!" he shouted, nearly dropping the vials in shock
An excruciating wave of pain surged through him; he realized he had sustained a deep wound. Yet, the intensity of the pain he felt in that moment was unparalleled.
"I guess she wasn't joking after all! She truly craved meat!" he quipped to John, attempting to inject humor into the grim situation
He laughed out loud, but John did not share his amusement. He stepped back from the woman, shaking his head as he addressed Mitchell. "Yeah... real funny, man. Look, let's just get the hell out of here. I'm ready to go home
While John lacked the loving family that Mitchell had, he felt an overwhelming sense of pain and distress in that moment, shaking his head in disbelief at the chaos surrounding them.
"Yeah... let's get you treated and bandaged up, then get out of here..." Mitchell replied, his tone sobering
Neither of them realized the turmoil they had just unleashed, nor the fact that in a matter of months, they would be the architects of the world's impending doom

**************************************

Gus sat at the lunch table, leisurely consuming his sandwich when a loud and familiar voice suddenly pierced the air nearby.
"Zachary Biggs?! We need you to clean up some blood... Back in Room 73... Thank you..." came the calm voice of Mitchell, the prominent scientist and de facto leader of the entire laboratory
Gus turned his head toward the source of the voice, recognizing Mitchell's imposing figure.
"Oh! Yes! Apologies, sir! I will attend to that immediately!" Zachary replied, feeling the need to apologize for something that was not his fault
Mitchell squinted at Zachary, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he addressed the younger man.
"Have fun in there..." he said with a touch of irony. Zachary gulped, anxiety washing over him
Uncertain of Mitchell's true intent, he was nonetheless aware of the infamous Room 73, a place that loomed large in the minds of all in the laboratory, yet remained shrouded in silence
Rising from the lunch table, Zachary began his trek down the corridor toward Room 73. Along the way, he spotted John, whose arm was heavily bandaged. It dawned on him that John was likely the reason for the blood
A chill ran down Zachary's spine as he contemplated what awaited him behind the door...