What Waits Behind the Door | SCP-004

July 2nd, 1949. The bright yellow no trespassing sign stood stark against the night sky. Kenny pulled apart the broken fence and went through first, with Danny right on his heels. But Joe hesitated. You're coming. Kenny whispered. I don't know you guys. We aren't supposed to be here. Don't be so square, Joe. Danny teased. Kenny rolled his eyes. Stay behind if you want. We're going in. Joe glanced around them at the dark empty fields. There was no one to stop them, really. No one would ever know they were out here. But it wasn't just what lay outside the building that frightened Joe. Kids had claimed for years that the place was haunted by the ghost of an old factory worker who had died in one of the machines. Joe could almost picture him. Face half torn off, chasing them away. The rumors were pure baloney, of course. But who knows what they might find in there. Still, it was too late to turn back. He didn't want to look like a sissy in front of his best friends. He sighed and followed them through the fence. The dry grass crunched under their feet as they approached the dilapidated building. The entrance was an old barn door that was in surprisingly good condition. Kenny yanked it open with a resounding creak. Are you trying to wake the whole neighborhood? Danny whispered. Kenny shrugged. Sorry. He turned on his flashlight and stepped inside. Danny exchanged a worried glance with Joe before following his friend, leaving Joe standing alone in the darkness. He switched his flashlight on and heaved a deep sigh, trying to calm his racing heart. It didn't work. The rhythmic pounding followed him into the factory, swallowing all other sounds. It smelled of rust and a thick layer of dust covered the floor. It swirled into the air as he walked, making him sneeze. The front area was empty, but machines dotted the back space. Everybody seemed to know what kind of factory this was, and looking at the machines, Joe still couldn't tell. But one of them contained a sharp blade that could surely cut a man to pieces. Guys? Joe winced at how loud his voice sounded, even though he was whispering. He shone his flashlight around the space, but there was no sign of his friends. He walked around the machines, wood creaking under his feet, but there was no sign or sound of Kenny and Danny. Guys, where are you? A shadow moved by one of the hulking metal frames. Joe froze. His grip on the flashlight, slipping as his palms began to sweat. The sound of metal against metal rang out, sharp and threatening. Hello? Who's there? This isn't funny, guys. Get out! A deep voice spoke somewhere behind him. Joe jumped and dropped his flashlight. He spun around. But as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could just make out a figure a few feet away. He couldn't see his face, but he imagined the skin peeled off, revealing flesh and bone beneath. The figure raised a hammer into the air. Joe screamed. The man laughed, but it wasn't the threatening sound of a murderer. It was... Kenny? A flashlight turned on behind Joe to illuminate Kenny, doubled over. Danny approached with the light and clapped a hand on Joe's back. Tears of laughter were screaming from his eyes. That was too good. Joe frowned, his heart slowly returning to its normal pace. You guys are assholes, you know that? Kenny shook his head and handed Joe's flashlight back. Sorry, Joe. We just couldn't pass up the opportunity. That was priceless. Whatever. I'm getting out of here. Joe sidestepped his friend and headed to the door. Wait. Danny called after him. I found something back here. Come take a look. Joe glanced back. This better not be another trick. It's not, honest. Danny sounded sincere, and now that Joe's fear had given way to anger, he was curious to explore the space. At least now he knew there was nothing but two idiots lurking in the darkness. He followed Danny to a row of lockers and then passed them to the door of an administrative office. Danny walked inside, picking up a lone rectangular object sitting on a desk. Check this out. As Danny brought it closer, Joe guessed it was an old lock box. The lid creaked with age as Danny lifted it to reveal a set of rusty metal keys. Kenny lifted one out of the box and held it before his flashlight. Where do you suppose these go? Danny shrugged. Maybe we should find out. Joe picked up one of the keys and a shiver ran through him. Nothing stood out on the key besides different teeth and handle length. He quickly put it back in the box. I've got a bad feeling about this. Kenny rolled his eyes. You don't have a bad feeling about everything. Come on, Joe. You gotta live a little. He turned to the nearest machine with a lock and stuck the key in, but it didn't fit. Danny grabbed his own key and joined in, the two of them walking around the factory, sticking the keys in wherever they might go. Joe remained by the lockers, silently watching. Fear was creeping up his spine and he had a feeling like something horrible was about to happen. But he didn't dare voice his apprehension. He would only be mocked again. So he swept his flashlight between his friends and prayed that the keys wouldn't unlock something disastrous. Thankfully, the boys joined him a few minutes later, unsuccessful in their mission. Danny threw his key back into the box, but Kenny held on to his. He was staring at the front barn door with a strange look on his face. I wonder. The other boys watched as Kenny approached the door and slid the key into the lock. He grinned at them triumphantly and twisted the key to lock and then unlock the door. Then he threw it open. July 3, 1949. The crows were circling a sheriff porter, drove past the fields on the outskirts of town. A group of them was gathered around something in the ditch beside the corn stalks. He briefly glanced at them, just as one of them flew away, giving him a clear view of what they were pecking at. He slammed on his brakes so hard that his head nearly connected with the steering wheel. That couldn't have been what he thought it was. There was no way. He was imagining things. But what kind of sheriff would he be if he didn't check it out? He veered the car to the side of the road and turned it off, heart emmering in his chest. With slow movements, he opened the door and walked over to the crows. Some of them flooded his approach, and suddenly there could be no doubt. Naja roiled in his stomach as he looked at the human hand, sitting casually by the side of the road. It was severed at the wrist, as if it had been violently torn from the body. He searched the area, but there was no sign of blood or other body parts. With a deep breath, he forced himself to examine the hand. It was fresh, and the fingers were curled as if they were holding something, but there was nothing there. He radioed for backup and stood back to wait. That's when he noticed a small scar on the inside of the palm. His heart sank. He knew who the hand belonged to. Joe had known Sheriff Porter his whole life. It was a small town, so everyone knew everyone. Not to mention, ever since he started hanging out with Kenny, he'd had a few small run-ins with the law. Nothing major, just kid stuff like breaking into places he wasn't supposed to be and petty thievery. What it meant, that he'd been on this side of the table before. And yet, the Sheriff had never looked at him as sternly and coldly as he did now. He was practically glowering as he stared down at Joe. What happened to Kenny? Joe gulped. He knew this was coming. Part of him hoped that everyone would just assume Kenny skipped town, but that was unlikely. Especially once they found his hand. He and Danny had already talked about what they would say. They vowed to stick to their story no matter whether the police believed them or not. It was the truth, no matter how outlandish it sounded. But that was easier said than done. He exploded. The Sheriff straightened and squinted his eyes. He what? With a deep breath, Joe told him about going to the factory. He explained about the prank scare and finding the keys. The Sheriff listened with his arms crossed, but he didn't say anything. When Joe got to the part about unlocking the door, he paused. Sheriff Porter cocked his head, indicating for Joe to continue. But Joe would rather have been the one to open the door than the one having to explain it now. It was horrible. He said, voice raw from use and emotion. The door opened like normal, and for a second everything was fine. Then Kenny just blew apart. What do you mean? Joe closed his eyes, reliving that awful moment. He was torn apart? By what? I don't know. It all happened so fast. One second he was there, then his limbs were ripped from his body, and then he was gone like nothing happened. Are you trying to tell me that his body parts disappeared on their own? Joe shrugged. He knew how it sounded. Hell, he probably wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't been there. He still had trouble accepting that Kenny was gone, let alone torn apart by an unseen force. Sheriff Porter steepled his fingers under his chin and stared long and hard at Joe. Just to be clear, your story is that you, Danny and Kenny, went to the abandoned factory, found some old keys, and when Kenny unlocked the front door of the factory, he was blown apart and then disappeared. Is that right? That's what happened, I swear. Tears formed in Joe's eyes. He knew they never should have gone to that building, never should have messed with those strange keys. He didn't want to go to jail. His parents would be so upset they would never speak to him again. And for the whole town to think that he and Danny murdered Kenny and chopped him up was too horrible for comprehension. He couldn't live with that. He wouldn't. A knock sounded on the door, interrupting his spiraling thoughts. The sheriff frowned and his metal chair scraped against the floor as he rose. I'll be back in a minute. He said gruffly. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Joe alone in the cold, empty room. A few minutes later, the door opened again, but this time the sheriff wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, thin man with round glasses. He had bright blue eyes that seemed to see straight through Joe. Goose bumps rose on his arms as the man sat across from him without speaking. They stared at each other while the sheriff stood awkwardly by the door. Finally, the man spoke. I will be taking over this investigation. I need you to tell me everything that happened in the factory. Joe frowned. But I just told... Do it again. The man said, his voice low and stern. Joe glanced between the sheriff and the strange man. Was this some kind of doctor brought in to see if he was crazy? Were they going to send him to an asylum? Joe gulped. The man's expression softened as if he could read Joe's thoughts. Don't worry about how it sounds. Just tell me everything from start to finish and leave nothing out. With a deep breath, Joe did as he was told. July 4th, 1949. Agent Frank Bauer adjusted his glasses and stared at the arm that landed a few feet away. Interesting. Which key was that again? Four. His research assistant responded promptly. So far, they had been trying the keys at random. And this was the first time the body parts remained in the factory after they exploded. Very interesting. He repeated as he glanced at the remains surrounding them. Let's get this cleared up and move on to the next one. I want to see if any of the other keys have different results. His assistant nodded and signaled the cleanup crew. They began packing away the body parts and mopping up the blood and organs from the floor. They'd been on standby all day, but this was the first time they'd been put to work. Some of them had been sent to search the surrounding areas for those who had disappeared, but they had yet to return. There was also no sign of the boy, Kenny. Aside from the hand the sheriff found earlier. Apparently, he had a horseshoe tattoo on his right shin. So if they found a leg, they'd know whether it was his. But aside from the man Frank was stepping in, the rest of them were just… gone. He picked up another key from the lock box, checking the label on its head before handing it to his assistant. Number 7 Next The assistant took the key and scurried over to take notes before the next test subject was brought in. They waited until all traces of the last one were clear before allowing him into the building. Without the keys, the barn door worked fine, although Frank shivered every time he walked through it. He settled into his chair to watch as the subject was given the instructions and the key. Frank sat further away from the door this time, just in case. The subject was a short, pudgy man around 40 years old. Although he knew nothing of the experiment, Sweat was beating around his thinning hairline. Frank almost felt sorry for him. But the feeling vanished along with the man as he inserted the key and opened the door. The factory fell silent as the door shut behind him. Well that's… different. Frank said, What do we do now, Agent Bauer? The assistant asked. Frank leaned back in his chair. Now we wait. The assistant glanced between his watch and the door, but didn't say anything. They didn't have long to wait, however. Only a few minutes passed before the door swung open and the man stumbled back into the factory. Someone propped the door open before it could close again. Frank jumped from his chair and grabbed the man's shoulders, looking deeply into his eyes. He appeared sane, and he was in one piece. Strange. What did you see? The man blinked as if trying to remember where he was, or who he was. It was… I was in a large room. It was so big. Impossibly big. What kind of room? What did it look like? The man shook his head, at a loss for words. The research assistant walked over and whispered to Frank, Perhaps we should give him a minute. Frank nodded and stepped back. He had seen a lot of strange things since he began working for the Foundation, but this was one of the strangest. He wanted to remain on the project to study how the keys worked, but that would be delegated to one of the scientists. He was just here to confirm SCP status and deal with the witnesses. He'd accomplished one task. Now it was time for the next. Middle money lies in your current account, picking crumbs out of its belly button, wondering should I eat them? But when you start investing with Monzo, your money's always busy. It turns on regular investments, invests your spare change, and tops up your stocks and shares, Issa. It even helps you make sense of risk and return. Monzo, the bank that gets your money moving. You could get back less than you invest. Monzo current account required UK Residents 18 plus T's and C's apply. July 16th, 1949. Joe was back in the factory. He was alone this time. Just him and the machines. No flashlight. Only the faint moonlight illuminating his surroundings. A bang sounded behind him and he froze. Then he shook his head, remembering Kenny's stupid prank. He turned to face his friend, but there was nothing there. He walked closer and nearly tripped on something. He picked it up and held it up to the moonlight. With a yelp, he dropped it to the ground with a thud. It was Kenny's hand. Now that he was looking, Joe saw more objects on the ground. He followed them to find a foot wearing Kenny's familiar sneakers, followed by a leg with a horseshoe tattoo. The body parts led him to the barn door where Kenny's head sat. Joe recoiled from the site, but before he could turn away, Kenny's eyes flew open. His mouth curved into a cruel smile. Why did you do it, Joe? Joe's voice was shaking as he replied. To what? Why did you just let me use that key? Joe took a step back, fighting the urge to be sick. I didn't. I told you not to. I didn't even want to come here. He backed up further, but something grabbed his ankle. He looked down to find Kenny's hand, gripping the cuff of his jeans. Let me go. I never wanted to be here. You should never have come, Joe. Kenny said, his eyes alight with malice. This is all your fault. No, it can't be. I never wanted this. I didn't do anything. The key suddenly appeared in Joe's palm. He tried to drop it, but it remained stuck to his hand. Join me, Joe. Open the door. No, I don't want you. But Kenny's hand tugged on Joe's ankle with surprising force and dragged him forward until he was inches from the door. Use the key, Joe, Kenny said. Become like me. Joe shook his head, but his body was moving of its own volition now. He watched in horror as he brought the key to the lock and twisted. There was nothing he could do as he wrenched the door open. It happened immediately. His arms and legs were torn from his body, and he watched himself explode in slow motion. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Kenny's grin was the last thing he saw before everything went dark. Joe awoke, gasping for breath. The room was dark, but familiar. He felt the sweat drenched sheets around him and sighed in relief. It had been a dream. The whole thing was a dream. He was safe in his bed, and Kenny was too. No, that wasn't right. Something happened to Kenny, but what? Joe's mind rushed to catch up as he shook himself awake. His heart dropped as he remembered what had happened to Kenny. Kenny opened the door. The door to hell. The floorboard creaked, and Joe suddenly realized he wasn't alone. A shadow emerged from the corner of the room and stepped toward his bed. Was this the devil? Come to claim Joe for what happened to Kenny? Who are you? Joe whispered to the darkness. The shadow didn't respond, but the clouds shifted, and a sliver of moonlight illuminated two piercing blue eyes. Joe cocked his head, confusion warring with fear in his addled brain. You're the one from the Sheriff's office, the one I talked to. The man lowered his face mask to reveal his nose and mouth. Agent Bauer. What? What are you doing here? How did you get in? Agent Bauer slipped something out of his pocket and knelt beside the bed until he was face to face with Joe. I'm sorry about this, but it has to be done. It will be peaceful, I promise. What will be peaceful? You know too much. He whispered as he slid the needle into Joe's arm. July 2, 1985. Heather's mouth gaped as she watched Jason effortlessly climb the fence. You coming? She glanced at the signs posted along the fence that warned trespassers against entering the property. Heather claimed the area was hazardous, but Jason looked down at her with that glint in his eye and a challenging smirk on his lips. And before she knew it, Heather was climbing towards him. He helped her get down on the other side and they surveyed the property. The old factory was the source of countless rumors, from ghost encounters to secret doors and mysterious disappearances. Heather didn't believe any of it, but she knew there was something off about this place. She could feel it. Every child in the area had been warned against entering the property. For the most part, the huge fence and abundance of warning signs kept them away, but not Jason. He'd always been fascinated with the stories, and Heather couldn't say no when he asked her to go with him. So here they were, enjoying a sunset date in a potentially hazardous area. She followed him to the large barn door that appeared to be the only entrance. Jason cursed under his breath, and as she stepped beside him, she realized why. The door was padlocked. No matter how good their lockpicking skills were, there was no getting through that. Maybe there's a window somewhere. Let's take a look. Jason left without waiting for a response. Heather went in the opposite direction, her feelings of unease growing stronger the longer they remained in the area. She kept her eyes on the buildings as she walked, and let out a yell as she tripped over something. She glanced behind her. Her entire body went cold and rigid with fear. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Whatever horrors she expected to find at the factory, a dismembered human leg was not among them. Yet, there it was, lying casually in the grass, blood still dripping from the stump. As her breathing grew rapid, Heather tried to think rationally. Surely, this was just a prank. Jason had probably planted a fake leg here to scare her. She forced herself to touch the leg just above the horseshoe tattoo. It was still warm and undoubtedly real. Heather finally screamed. SCP-4 is made up of an old wooden barn door, SCP-4-1, and 12 rusted steel keys, SCP-4-2 through SCP-4-13, which together form an extremely dangerous anomaly connected to an abandoned factory. Handling the keys requires strict protocol. They can only be moved off-site with two Level 4 security escorts, and no other SCP-4 components may ever be taken through the door, as the results are unknown and potentially catastrophic. In the event of a containment breach, all keys must be brought inside SCP-4-1, and the door sealed before Site 62's warhead can be safely activated. Unauthorized removal of the keys results in immediate termination. Access to the door itself requires Level 1 clearance, while using any of the keys requires Level 4 clearance.