S10E15 - "Mirage Station" - Drew Blood

If you're a fan of true crime, horror, or creepy encounters, you've got to listen to disturbed, true horror stories. Each episode shares the terrifying experiences of real people, retold by professional actors. I bit down on his hand and he pulled back, but he pushed the knife a little harder against my sweatshirt. I began to hear the breathing and growling of what could only come from a monster. Find disturbed, true horror stories wherever you enjoy your podcasts. Hey friends, it's me again. You know what's really easy to do and even easier to forget? Help me out and hit that like button if you're listening on YouTube. If you're listening somewhere else, what the hell? Pop in and give me a thumb. Say hi while you're at it. Helps me a ton with that damn algorithm. And besides, it's always nice to see you there. Alright then, let's hop on that crazy train. All aboard! Oh, shit. Hey, hey, hey! Welcome back friend. Hope you had a happy Easter. He is risen. Or maybe you just ate a chocolate bunny. I'm not judging. In any case, today's another important one. It's National Hug Your Dog Day. Now, my particular dog is a bit of a scaly prick today, but I intend to celebrate like everyone else. So, come on boy. Get your cranky ass over here. It's time for a snuggle. No, you're not getting off that easy boy. Get back here. And give me that tail. I'll get you sooner or later boy. Damn dogs. Well, fucker. Come on in friend. Mmm. Alright, that's better. Hey, check out SimplyScaryPodcast.com and become a patron. For $7.99 a month, you can get the entire catalog ad-free and available to download or stream plus a bunch of exclusive stuff I understand. It's a great way to show your support for CTFDN and they really appreciate it. Also, check out Patreon.com forward slash drew blood if you get a chance. I'm not exactly farting through silk yet, but you know what? Things are happening. I can feel it. Excuse me. Anyway, tonight we welcome back author Ryan Major, courtesy of our pals at Velox Books. Tonight's story follows a forklift driver who takes one of those mysterious blue-collar jobs for all sorts of money. I don't even have to tell you this one isn't going to end well, do I? So, without further delay, from author Ryan Major, I give you Mirage Station. Get them containers lined up boys! shouted the stout old man from the catwalk. Marcus Jasper, the warehouse foreman, was a wall of muscle topped off with a wild tangle of long white hair and a bushy beard. If Santa Claus had a Viking cousin, Jasper would be it. Our delivery window opens in less than 24 hours and we've got pups on the crew this time. Gotta show them the ropes! Jasper looked down from the catwalk and gave me a wink as I drove the forklift forward. Dozens of other men scurried around the cavernous room checking shipping manifests and container contents. I'd been working for Shift Logistics Warehouse for eight months. It was an easy job with a pay scale that made my head spin. I loved it, but I still had a hard time believing what Jasper told me we did. The job offer had arrived out of nowhere. After a brief stint in the military, I secured work at the Port of Los Angeles as a forklift driver. Most of my military career had been spent in warehousing. My skill and speed in military logistics and shipping had translated well to civilian life. Nine months ago, I was walking to my truck at the end of the Shift when I saw a mountainous man leaning against a tailgate. Smoke billowed from a cigar dangling haphazardly from the corner of his mouth. We made eye contact and he tossed a hand the size of a bear's paw in the air to greet me. Ahoy! the man bellowed. Your name, Edgar Black? Who's asking? I responded curtly. The man bellowed laughter that filled the parking lot. I'm Marcus Jasper and I work for Shift Logistics. A buddy of mine works here at the Port and said you're an ace on the forklift. Ah, a prior military too I understand. Also a plus, son. I'm pretty happy here, I replied. It would take a good pay increase to consider making a move. Jasper slid a hand into his back pocket and pulled out a folded yellow envelope. He pushed it in my hands and swatted me on the shoulder, nearly sending me realing forward. Take a look at that packet there son. He said and began to walk away. Tells you as much information as we can share for now. I do my homework and know that your finances aren't in great shape. Got some creditors after you from what I understand. Yeah, I could be the answer to your money woes. My number's on the last page. Call me if you're interested. I'm flying out tomorrow. I read the packet that night. Most of the job descriptions seem straightforward and varied little from the standard load and unload duties I had been working at the port. My position there would be operating a forklift to unload and store shipments in the shift logistics warehouse. While the first part had made sense, the contract grew strange as I continued. The warehouse was located on a 25 square mile patch of land in an undisclosed state. A perimeter barrier had been constructed around the entire property and I would be assigned patrol detail a few times each month to ensure the barrier wasn't tacked. Military experience was preferred as firearms were required during the patrols. If the massive amount of land and patrol detail wasn't strange enough, our delivery schedule sealed the deal. We only made one huge delivery each year. Shipments would arrive during the first 11 months. The remaining month before delivery would be spent preparing everything for the move and daily equipment inspections to ensure nothing malfunctioned. Strangest of all, the delivery would be made within the 25 square mile compound. A non-disclosure agreement was attached to the back. While I had assumed the majority of the envelope contents would be a job description, the NDA took up the bulk. In it, I was informed that the location, nature of our work, contents of the warehouse, and nature of our clientele were to remain secret. At the end of the NDA, where I was expected to see the financial penalties, I was shocked to see that any breach of contract was punishable by a lengthy term in federal prison. A bright yellow sticky note sat at the bottom of the page. Call if you're interested, kid. $200,000 per year. The next morning, Jasper sat across the aisle from me on the private jet, quietly reading over stacks of papers. Sir, excuse me. Could you tell me about the job? The description was vague and I'm not sure why a private company would have an NDA that could result in federal prison time. The old man placed the clipboard on the seat beside him. You want a real answer or a believable answer? He asked with a chest-hire grin. The real answer, please? There goes nothing. He chortled. Shift Logistics is a warehouse and protected property in Wyoming. Easy to get a lot of land out there. The campus is 25 square miles with a large perimeter barrier, but you already know that. We also own all the land for 20 miles in both directions. No fly zone overhead. Our work needs privacy, you see. I nodded. We spend most of the year receiving shipments of just about anything you can imagine. Food, clothing, medication, technical equipment, light weaponry, gasoline, and vehicles. Are we military? We ain't public or private. Little of both. This is an organization that started in the 1960s, but the government is, well, a big supporter of their work. The whole setup is a little hard to wrap your head around. So what's the unbelievable part? Jasper smiled at me. For one day a year, during a 12-hour period, an entire town will appear within the 25 square mile perimeter. During that period, you and the rest of the team will move a year's worth of goods into a warehouse within that town and depart. Every couple of years, some personnel selected by the government to stay in the town get dropped off too. After 12 hours, the town will disappear again. Bullshit, I said. A town appears and disappears and where? What? Their deliverymen? Where does it go? And why do we take them these supplies? We take them to supplies because they pay us a pile of money to do it, he said firmly. We drop the stuff off those folks need to live for a year and we pick up a few smaller loads before returning to our warehouse. The government picks up what we take out of the town the next day, then transfers us another year of operating costs. Then we spend 11 months prepping for the next drop. I peppered him with dozens of questions for the remainder of the flight, but Marcus Jasper just shrugged his shoulders at all of them and returned to his clipboard. I don't ask questions, kid, he said indifferently. Shift logistics pays my bills and then some. Folks in the town are friendly. Scientist types. Government don't hover over my shoulder. We get paid. It's a good gig so I try not to spoil it with curiosity. My mind's swam and our playing continued. Listen up. Huh? That means you. Yes, you. We know you're pointing at yourself. When it comes to party power games, we've got a place made for all sorts. From the experts to the drama queens. It's me, the JC. The finance bros. Look at those stokes lads. We'll stick with slots. It's what we're good at. And not forgetting you. Yes, you, the one listening. Because at party power games, we've got all sorts of games for all sorts of trickles. Eligibility rules in terms of conditions apply. Please come by responsibly. Fat snowflakes drifted from the sky before melting on the windshield of the delivery truck. I sat inside waiting to make my first delivery. Wyoming was beautiful, but after so many years in California, a frigid winter seemed exceptionally brutal. The heat was blasting from the dash of the truck, but a chill had settled in my bones. I told myself it was the cold, but I was terrified that Jasper was right. The past 11 months have been both unusual and mundane. We spent our days taking in deliveries, verifying their contents and creating manifests of supplies. I got to know the other workers well and the bonds were quick to form. Jasper turned out to be more like a father to most of us than a boss. He would work us hard during the day, but when evening hit, he knew how to help the staff unwind. You could find him standing by a barbecue pit most evenings near our sleeping quarters. Beer in hand, he would flip countless burgers and ribs over the burning coals. He would draw us into car games in the mess hall, play first run movies in a tiny theater, and drive us to the nearest clinic if we were feeling under the weather. There wasn't a man or woman in that facility that didn't love him. He took care of us. It went well beyond the kind of care and concern a paycheck made a fellow feel compelled to provide. My truck sat outside of the warehouse bay doors. Nose pointed into an empty field that stretched as far as my eyes could see. Floodlights from the building behind me blasted into the darkness, illuminating the snow-covered plane. If Jasper and the rest of the crew had been telling the truth, in less than five minutes, a small town would materialize in front of my eyes. A young woman sat calmly in the passenger seat beside me. Her eyes were closed and her head tilted back against the seat to faint sleep, but I knew she was awake. Jasper had informed me that morning that she was a new resident of the mysterious town and that she would accompany me to the delivery side. I introduced myself and tried to make small talk, but she was all business. She wore drab green military-style fatigues and carried a duffel bag. A sleek handgun was fastened to her belt. Dozens of other men and women, fitting the same description, were scattered throughout the delivery fleet, awaiting transport to their strange destination. We were given explicit instructions not to share any information with the contractors. She had said, Thank you for understanding. My following attempts to make small talk were met with equally polite but curt responses. I was nervous and continued trying to talk to her. In response, she pretended to go to sleep. The radio and my dash crackled alive. A series of high-pitched sirens blasted through. The young woman in the seat beside me bolted up and looked straight ahead. Good morning, ladies and gents. Boomed a deep baritone voice. This is Marcus Jasper. The final countdown has now reached 30 seconds. Shipment 51 will commence on my mark. If this is your first delivery, move quickly. While we've got a 12-hour window, our goal is complete delivery by the two-hour mark followed by a two-hour pickup and retrieval window for all outgoing containers and any disembarking personnel from the town. This will leave us with an eight-hour window for troubleshooting if anything goes foobar. No one wants an unexpected ride to the other side. Brace for arrival. The other side? What the hell was he talking about? Before I could wrap my mind around the strangeness of the message, yellow caution lights erupted from the warehouse behind us. My ears began to ring. A few of the old metal fillings in my teeth began to rattle. The air pressure seemed to be compressing and my breathing became labored and ragged. The young woman in the seat beside me didn't speak, but shot her hand across the cab of the truck and grasped mine. I squeezed hers in return. A quarter mile down the hill, a faint circle of light appeared. From this distance it looked no larger than the diameter of a swimming pool. The ring of illumination began to pulse rapidly. As the intensity grew, the circle began to expand as it became taller. Waves of light and intense vibrations filled the field. The entire complex was bathed in the glow from the massive anomaly that appeared before us. I could feel the truck beginning to rumble and the ground below us quaked. The light became blinding. It was so strong it seemed to blast between the fingers of my hand as I held it in front of my face. I braced myself for an explosion or shockwave, but by surprise, everything remained silent. The light faded and the vehicle sat still. Pulling the hand away from my eyes and letting the young woman's hand drop, I marveled as I gazed through the windshield of the cab. A massive platform covered the field at the bottom of the hill from the warehouse. Tower and stadium lights blanketed two colossal warehouses perched on the edge of the platform nearest to us. Beyond the huge metal buildings, I could see water towers, neat rows of houses, and a few taller buildings that resembled lecture halls from a college campus. It's go time, ladies and gents. Jasper announced over the radio, I will held the control room at warehouse one during the approach. Reassembled delivery formation at the base of the entry ramp. Once the ramp lights turn green, enter and fall into your assigned drop order. Caravan, forward! I hesitated as I watched the trucks beside me pull away. A loud honk from the truck behind me erupted and startled me into motion. My foot slammed down on the gas pedal and the tire spun on the concrete before finding purchase and jolting us forward. Easy there, killer, the young woman said. Get us there in one piece if you can, okay? I smiled. We'll do, ma'am. My heart thundered as we arrived at the bottom of the ramp that led into the mysterious town. Now that we were at the bottom of the hill, I could see the top of the platform was nearly 40 feet off the ground. I pulled the truck into formation and put it in park, staring in wonder. The radio remained silent. Two years of training and I still can't believe I'm here. The woman said. I wonder why the light is still red. I looked at the red light that was illuminated to the right of the ramp. The go light below sat black and deadened. During our prep discussions, Jasper had told the crew that the entry light usually lit up before we even reached a ramp. I wasn't worried yet, but it had taken us five minutes to fall into delivery formation. Truck 27. This is Marcus Jasper. The radio crackled without warning. Samantha Michaels. This is a truck to truck transmission. The rest of the fleet is cut from this loop. Do you copy? The young woman, who I now knew was Samantha Michaels, picked up the radio mic and responded that she received the message. Ma'am, my hells are going unanswered. Jasper responded. I could hear worry in his voice. I prepared the standard five hell series with no response. You're new here, I know, but I understand you were due to assume site management. As a courtesy, I'm asking permission to enact code blue. We've never failed to receive a response during any previous delivery. I looked at Samantha and saw her hand tremble as she clutched the mic. Understood, Mr. Jasper. She said in a shaken voice. Our director has informed me of your military record. Permission granted. I request that you lead the operation. The new site personnel shall remain in their vehicles with your staff, but I will accompany you for point inspection. Pick your best men, sir. We don't know what will be in there. Understood and confirmed, ma'am. Jasper replied. The steel had returned to his voice. After a few moments of dead air, Marcus Jasper's voice once again flooded from the radio. He called for the driver of 20 specifically numbered trucks, including mine. We were instructed to remove an M4 carbine rifle, Kevlar vest and communication earpiece from a storage locker in the cab of our trucks. A tent was being set up at the rear of the convoy and a beacon light would be placed. The personnel summoned were to report within the next five minutes. I collected my gear before Samantha and I stepped onto the snow covered ground. Behind the truck we could see a bright beam of light pierce in the sky from the rear of the convoy. As we walked, I strapped on my vest, inserted my earpiece and began to examine my weapon to make sure everything was in function in order. Once we arrived Jasper stood in the center of a cluster of 20 men. He tossed a Kevlar vest through the air to Samantha, who secured it on her torso. Another man stepped forward and handed her an earpiece and carbine. Jasper directed everyone to remain quiet and gave Samantha Michaels the floor. Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to give you a brief amount of neat to know information before we enter the station. This site was constructed decades ago by a group of scientists who hungered for a world free of war, famine and political intrusion in their work. Some of the brightest minds of their day created a small community here and named it Mirage Station. To find a location untainted by the evils of this world, a group of physicists designed and produced technology that allowed a small town to be removed from this reality and relocated to an alternative dimension where humanity either never existed or failed to thrive. There are no predators on the planet and sentient life has never been discovered. Flora and Fauna discovered there are often similar to what we have here with varying evolutionary differences. My eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates. An alternative universe? I wanted to think it was impossible, but this town had materialized in front of my eyes. Nothing seemed impossible anymore. Each year Mirage Station shifts back to this reality for supply replenishment and to deliver research and technology efforts to our world. In return for their research and discoveries, the US government funds their work. Some of our most important advances in medicine and technology are developed at Mirage Station. For the last 50 years the shipment exchange has gone off without a hitch, but we have failed to receive facility contact. Mr. Jasper has enacted a Code Blue response. This team will enter Mirage Station in an attempt to make contact with personnel. In the event we fail to make contact, we will use the remaining 11 and a half hour window to investigate the cause of the contact failure. Mirage Station's dimensional displacement system is self-polluting. In 12 hours this town will shift back, with or without us. We all nodded in agreement and Jasper placed us in an entry formation. Nervously the cluster of men and women marched forward behind the old man. Our boots thudded against the metal ramps as we began our ascent into Mirage Station. An hour after entering Mirage Station, we hadn't seen a single soul. The receiving warehouse was clean, empty and prepped to receive the supply delivery. Upon entering the export warehouse, we discovered all the outgoing containers sealed and ready for our team to remove. After communication equipment checks in the control room of the loading area, we found everything to be in work and order. There were no signs of distress. That was until we began to perform a sweep of the houses nearest to the warehouses. The first dozen homes we entered seemed to be perfectly intact. Each house had a Spartan but comfortable living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. The furnishings and each were the same as the ones before. Small keepsakes and photos on the wall provided the only variations. All of them were tidy. As we rounded the corner into the next row of houses, our concerns mounted. While the first row of homes was as expected, the doors of the second row were all caved in. White shards of wood were scattered into the living rooms of each home. Dozens of deep grooves were hewn into the frames by whatever had forced its way into the homes. I want four groups of five men and women. Three will enter the homes and one crew will escort me and Mrs. Michaels to the central control office at the center of the station. Jasper said, Clear each house and search for signs of survivors or hostiles. If it isn't human, call for backup and put a bullet in it. Any unusual activity should be reported to the rest of the crew immediately. Be safe. I don't want any new hires for next year. Understand? He flashed a nervous smile. Jasper divided us into teams before departing. One by one we entered the houses in the second row. Each door had been ripped to shreds and showered into the living rooms. Long-dried blood and dehydrated flesh showered the walls. The same deep grooves from the entryway were randomly found throughout the buildings. The smell of rod and carrion almost caused me to vomit with each new house we entered. Each home was the same bloodbath. Still, there remained no sign of either survivors or hostiles. Whatever had done this may well have left the station after the attack. My team was about to enter our seventh house when the sound of gunfire erupted from across the street. Defining waves filled the air as M4 carbines exploded into life. Screams and wails soon mingled with the gunfire as we began to exit the deserted bedroom to respond. My earpiece roared to life. Hostiles detected by team two I repeat hostiles detected by team two Everett and Bernstein are down the subject is entering the street and road to fire at will Hostiles scream The voice in my earpiece suddenly erupted in a shriek. Rasts and gurgles followed by horrific exclamations. grouse, grunts, and the wet rip in the flesh filled all of our ears before a static-filled crunch left us all in definite silence. Team Three returned to the front of the house and found the firing point through the windows. I directed, used couches and tables as barriers. The five of us squatted low and moved to the large window in the front of the living room. Two of the crewmen at the rear overturned a couch and coffee table to provide coverage. Slowly, I shuffled to the window, unlatched it, and pushed it open before propping my gun on the window seal. Sweeping the barrel from side to side, there was no sign of the reported hostile. In the doorway directly across the street from our position, I could see a body dressed in Kevlar still clutching its M4 across its chest. At first, I thought they were dead, but I was startled when they turned their head to meet my gaze. A shaken hand lifted in the air and reached out to me. Before I could give the order to move to the occupied house, a massive white claw came from beyond the door frame and sank itself through the body armor and into the crewman's chest. Their arms spasmed as blood erupted from their mouth. The claw retracted and dragged the body out of sight. Screams again filled the air, followed by a triumphant roar that rattled my bones. What the hell was that? Boomed a voice through the earpiece. Anyone got eyes on the hostile? I had a brief visual before it. I stammered. There's a hostile on road two. Fifth house from the main road. All teams converge at- Wood and plaster exploded into the street before I could finish my sentence. Chunks of building material scattered into the street and peppered our house like shrapnel as an alabaster blur emerged from the wreckage. The thing rolled into the center of the street and came to a stop. A path of deep grooves trailed behind the thing in the road. Long curved spikes protruded from the mass forming a perfect sphere. Razor sharp spines twitched as they flexed in and out, giving the rolling ball of death the look of rippling water. Chittering and clicking noises filled the air around the abomination. Team one, hostile is in the street. Save these off and engage. I heard a voice crying my ear. From my cover at the base of the window, I could see a five man team pour from a door three houses further down the street. Cracks ripped through the air as they began to fire on the rather massive quills. Bird like shrieks pierced my eardrums as the thing began to cry out in pain. Flex of orange blood fell like fat drops of rain. The team continued the fire at the creature and all of the quills went rigid, protruding from the center. Four lines in the shape of an X began to separate as rows of quills fell backward. Pilling back like a pale flower, six sword shaped legs unfurled and lifted the thing from the ground. In the center of the legs sat a circular maw of teeth and a thin gray tongue dangling onto the road. Moving like a blur, the creature scuttled forward toward the firing squad and launched its two front legs through the chest of the men in front. It roared with rage and it tossed the dead men to the side like crumpled paper. One woman from the team stood her ground and fired at the thing as the others ran for cover. The previously docile tongue launched toward the woman's arm and wrapped around a gun. It began to retract into the maw, dragging her screaming across the concrete. As the tongue pulled her carbine and arms into its mouth, she continued to fire and gave a fierce battle cry. When her torso entered the maw, it closed like a steel trap, dropping her legs to the concrete below. A door slammed as the last remaining members of team one took refuge inside an intact house at the end of the row. Dropping onto its belly, the creature's legs retracted and the four flaps folded closed. Again, a perfect sphere, the creature began to roll like a hellish wrecking ball toward the house and burst through the wall. Jaspard and Michaels. I whispered into my earpiece, we have made contact with the hostile. That is an unknown predatory species. Team one and two are both KIA. The engagement has barely wounded the thing. Static crackled in my earpiece and I tried to make out the broken and muffled response. Jasper and Michaels come in, dammit! I barked. Team one and two are down. Request in order. More static until finally a soft voice broke through. It intrigues the central control office. Everyone bloodbath repeat all remaining. We've got to head to the central office. I said to the others in my team, Michaels is calling for us. Let's head out. There's no one like you and there never will be. From the producer Bohemian Rhapsody and the director of Training Day. Will you let your light shine? This April. With a greatest of all time. There are many legends. Hey, I've been a kid, that's my girl. But there was only one. This again, with a high level of... Michael in IMAX and cinemas Wednesday, April 22. Isn't life grande? And making it better just got easier with Starbucks' new protein cold foam. A little something, something to take your favorite drinks up a notch with 15 grams of extra protein. Turn your usual iced caramel latte into a smooth iced caramel protein latte. Add a delicious swirl on top of your drink. Just like that. Protein never tasted so good with Starbucks' new protein cold foam. Subject to availability while stocks last. We tried unsuccessfully during our trip to reach Jasper and Michael's over the radio and received no response. Fear for their safety increased the closer we got to our destination. As we made our way towards central control, we found the mangled bodies of Team 4. Turning the mangled corpses over to identify them, we were relieved that our boss and the new station director weren't among the dead. It took us more than seven hours to travel from the rows of ravaged houses to the central control building. The distance wasn't great, maybe a mile and a half, but the creature trailed behind us and we had to hide frequently. We would hunker behind overturned furniture in ruptured building fronts as the pale creature rolled and scuttled in the streets outside. When it would leave to search another nearby building, we would make it another hundred feet down the road before we would have to hide again. The progress was tedious, but after hours of traveling and hiding, we finally made it. Central control was a circular building in the center of Mirage Station. Thick concrete walls climbed high above any other structures beside the water tower spread throughout the platform. Windows and doors appeared to be made of reinforced steel. It almost reminded me of a fallout shelter. At first, I was puzzled that the hideous beast hadn't managed to make it through the walls of central control, but I soon discovered why. As we walked the perimeter of the building looking for a point of entry, deep grooves had been scored into the concrete. A few inches in, pieces of metal rebar were exposed, mangled but unbroken. The thing had tried to make its way inside and failed. If we could get inside, we might be safe for a short while. After tracing the perimeter of the entire building and finding no way, we entered a one-story brick building across the street to find cover. We held for Jasper or Michaels on our earpieces again, but still received no response. As a flying debris and roars of anger echoed through the empty streets from a short distance away, it was still looking for us, and time was running out before Mirage Station would return to that thing's home. We've gotta head back, a man beside me said. Perkins was his last name, but I didn't know him well. Jasper and Michaels are either dead or out of reach. We need to go. The three others quietly murmured in agreement. My blood boiled at their cowardice. How could they abandon anyone without knowing their fate? We don't know if Jasper and Michaels are dead. I spat. And what if that monster follows us to the warehouse? I stopped talking abruptly as the squill of metal against metal filled our ears. The sound of heavy machinery whined from the direction of Central Command. We peered over the window ledge and watched as one of the doors lifted. Jasper stood inside. Get the hell in here! He shouted. We scurried across the open street and into the doorway before Jasper hit a button to shut the door. Glad you all made it. Looks like we've got a hell of a problem here. The old man gestured to the room behind us. The mummified corpses blanketed the floor. Thick dust floated in the air as the light drifted through cracks in the metal window covers. I gagged after realizing I was breathing in lungfuls of dry human skin. Looks like most of the population that wasn't killed by the Alpha died of starvation here. It couldn't get inside, but they couldn't get out for supplies. The Alpha? Perkins questioned. The Alpha is the quilled animal that has been chasing you. A voice said behind us. We turned to see Michaels into the corpse-filled lobby. Jasper and I tried to find a way to stop the next shift back to the other side, but with the station personnel dead we don't know how. In the meantime we've been listening to research logs left by the staff before their death. Michaels told us of the little they had learned from the research logs. For the first three decades on the other side, Mirage Station had been self-contained. None of the staff ventured farther than a mile into the wilderness around it. The community continued its scientific studies and technology development. Little more than a cursory investigation was made into the surrounding areas. In the 1990s, biologists and botanists joined research teams. They started traveling farther from Mirage Station to study the flora and fauna of the alternate world. Dozens of new medicines were discovered through research performed by the new teams. Unrecognizable herbivores populated the forests and plains. It had been noted in the earliest days of the station that the region appeared free of predators. In 2019, a geologist joined the crew and brought a drilling system to begin running tests on the mineral composition of the new world. There were concerns that mining operations would disrupt a largely untouched ecosystem. Many in the community protested, but the leadership dismissed their concerns and allowed drilling to begin. Underground research continued for two years until the geology team uncovered a massive web of caves 30 miles from Mirage Station. Camera drones surveyed portions of the underground system, revealing an underground area that rivaled even the mammoth cave system in our reality. Having finished their initial drone explorations and mineral sample testing, the team sent personnel below ground to begin studying the caves. After a few days of exploration, the team stopped reporting in. A rescue team was sent and failed to report back. Three days after the original return date, a rescue vehicle arrived. Only one of the original five sent to rescue the other team returned. Station staff met the wounded staff who reported the survey team had discovered an underground nest of creatures. It had wiped out the rescue team in only minutes. They followed me back, the man said, before dying of his wounds. Within a half hour of the man's death, seven of the creatures arrived at Mirage Station. Most of the station personnel were killed within an hour of the initial attack. The only survivors were those who fled to Central Command and enacted the lockdown. They watched as the creatures picked off the few survivors left outside from the CCTV console inside. Six of the seven alphas departed and returned to their caves while one remained. Almost as though to stand watch. Is there any information on how to kill him? I asked. No, Jasper responded. As all the folks here died of starvation before a reasonable escape plan came together. Then how the hell are we going to escape? Asked Perkins. We're going to let the thing in and trap it here. Jasper replied. If it couldn't get in, it won't be able to get out. Jasper and Michaels wasted no time as they told us the plan. We prepared to bait the alpha into central control and seal it inside. Michaels opened the bay door at the front of the building and a single person door at the back. Jasper had already gone to the main control room on the second level. He would set a timed explosive on the dimensional displacement computer so Mirage Station would never phase back into our world after it returned. She would also close the doors on our signal to trap the alpha. The remains of our crew stood outside the bay doors and began firing our weapons in the air to draw in the beast. A roar erupted close by and we could already hear the things clawed feet slicing into the pavement. We continued firing until the Quildmonstrosity rounded the crumbling building and moved in our direction. We ran into the building, the alpha in pursuit and dashed for the back door. The alpha was close behind us when we heard the bay door began to grind close. Someone behind us screamed and we heard a thud and the sound of a carving clatter into the ground. I turned my head to see Perkins sprawl on the floor. The wide mass of quills and teeth fell on them before I could think to stop. I turned and saw Michael standing outside the open door waving us through. Go, go, come on! She shouted as we hammered through the opening. As soon as the last man's boot hit the ground outside, the heavy still door began to close. We could see the alpha bounding towards us, roaring in fury. As the door rolled closer to the ground, a white leg shot through the gap and scraped a thick steel. The door came down on the leg and the hydraulic system whined as it tried to press down on the beast's carapace. Door won't close all the way. Jasper said through our earpiece, y'all got a whole ass now. How'd you get the comms working? I asked. Walls are too thick to get a signal out, but I pushed open one of the metal shutters. Looks like it worked. He said cheerfully. Now move your asses! Meet us at the front window and shimmy down the storm drain. Michael said in response. We'll wait for you to come down and haul ass together. No can do. He stated. Told a little lie. I've got no bomb and no detonator. Once this thing makes it to the other side, I'm going to destroy the drive manually. Get the hell out of here. Ain't much time left. That wasn't the deal. We leave together. No time to argue, my friends. He said with a sad chuckle. I'm closing that window shutter and waiting for this one-way trip. If you stay here, you're gonna die. Get going. A metal shutter slammed overhead and static crackled in my earpiece. With that, Jasper was gone. The five of us ran like hell was on our heels until we reached the ramp. I directed the convoy to return to the warehouse and keep a safe distance. By the time the trucks reached safety, we had just enough time to look back and watch as the wide halo of light surrounded Mirage Station and vanished just as quickly. Uhhh, that was Mirage Station by author Ryan Major. You know, an alternate dimension free of war, famine and politics sounds like a great idea on paper at least. Just bring along your M4 and Kevlar. Just in case, you know. Hey, a little about the author. O-Ryan Major is a writer frequently featured on the Dr. No Sleep podcast and Full Body Chills podcast from audio Chuck. Even better than that, he's been featured on Drew Blood's Dark Tales. Like a lot at this point. It's time to update this by O-Ryan. Anyway, he lives in Kentucky with his wife and two sons. This story is from his collection I've done this before, which you can find on Veloc's books, Amazon and Audible. Appreciate it, Ryan. And do O-Drew Blood a favor, would you? Subscribe to his podcast wherever you do your listening and leave him a five-star review on a kind word, even if you're listening on YouTube. He needs soldiers on all fronts to win this battle, and he appreciates it. To hear a premium ad-free edition of the nights and all the other episodes, visit SimplyScaryPodcast.com today and click patrons in the upper menu. You'll find yourself at ChillinTalesForDarkNights.com, where you can become a patron for as little as $5 per month and get access to their entire audio archive. All ad-free and available to download or stream. Thank you for your time and for supporting our sponsors. When you support our sponsors, you support this show. If you happen to use Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or YouTube, you can follow and subscribe to ChillinTalesForDarkNights there, where you'll get all the latest updates and new releases and have the chance to interact with them each and every week. Oh, and you can find Drew Blood on Facebook and Instagram and sometimes Twitter. The Drew Bloods Dark Tales podcast is accepting submissions, friend. If you've got a story or two you'd like to be featured on the show, send it to drewbloodhorroratgmail.com. If selected, you'll get the full treatment. Ten bananas. Well, I guess this is where we part ways, at least till next week. So grab a drink for the road, friend. And if you miss me out there, visit patreon.com forward slash drewblood and hang out with us for a while. Have I mentioned yet that I've got mugs, stickers, t-shirts? You need this stuff, friends. Without it, you're a mere civilian and that's just plain undignified. Anyway, may the wind be at your back and may the road rise up to meet you. Give your dog a hug for me and until next time, go fuck yourselves. In a world of noise and uncertainty, IG is the investment platform that backs you. And if that's not enough, pay no commission on your stock shares and ETFs when you invest with IG. IG. Trade. Invest. Progress. Your capital's at risk, other fees may apply. Tax treatment depends on individual circumstances and is subject to change. 500 orders a month was manageable. 5,000 is madness. 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