My head... was the first thought Pat Morgan had. When he stood, he stumbled, the floor, rather the whole plane, resting at an odd angle. He was in darkness, the only light coming from the holes in the roof of the cabin. No lights within and everything was dead, as far as electricity goes.
It was odd, seeing that he was the only piece of flesh that was still buckled into his seat. All the other passengers, or their bodies, if he was being pessimistic, had vacated the aircraft. Sure, there were a blood spatter here and there, some strands of hair stuck to the walls, but other than that, he was in one piece.
He went outside, not through the emergency door they blabber on about while a stewardess silently shows you how a seat belt works. No, he went through the gaping hole between two rows of seats; an opening edged with jagged and twisted metal. His foot found the ground, a deep carpet of leaves from the trees above. Pat guessed he was in a jungle. He saw a vine here and there and the chorus of birds and bugs that he would never hear back in the city.
The place was something Pat had only seen on TV. A setting for a nature show where he would learn about how frogs eat and how they get eaten or how panthers jumped their unsuspecting prey. A biological tutorial taught to him between sips of beer. This would be a nice nature walk, Pat thought as he swatted the bloodthirsty bugs on his neck, if I knew I wasn't going to missing my brother's wedding. He'd probably landed in Venice by now if the plane hadn't needed to make an unexpected landing. Growing bored with New York, his brother had always wanted to travel the world, but it seems he fell in love in the place that was supposed to be his first stop.
Everyone wants to see the world, Pat thought to himself, but look at me, on some uncharted island in the middle of the ocean. There was no other sign of life or where the other passengers went. He just kept walking through the trees, hoping to find some spring of freshwater and watching his back for wild animals that were just as hungry as he was.
Then he came upon the entrance.
It was a metal box, stainless steel, to be specific. It looked somewhat new, far from being part of some ancient ruins or some World War II military structure. It was like an elevator, the two shiny doors that would part from the center. On the left was a console, the screen giving off a green glow and flickering. Below was a keypad, which Pat thought was strange, seeing that this lonely island would have trouble with trespassers. Pat shrugged and, just for the hell of it, started punching random keys on the pad, hitting the button labeled "enter" occasionally. What's gonna happen? Am I gonna get another human being to give me a stern talking to? Someone who probably knows what this island's all about? Unexpectedly, a light on the pad switched from red to green and made a happy little chime that, translated to human understanding, probably meant "welcome."
Pat was shocked, and the shiny doors opened, though they jolted a little, a sign of necessary maintenance. The security system could use some work, Pat criticized, it breaks, it just lets anybody in. Inside, only half the lights of the cab worked, and the smell of overheating electronics was apparent. There were no buttons either within that one would press to indicate which floor you wanted, rather the carriage began to move downwards.
The only fear that Pat had was that such a poorly maintained elevator would break down in the middle of his descent. A thought that got worse and worse. Oh, no, oh no, his worried thoughts began, Pat, you idiot! If it does get stuck, which it most likely will, what are you going to do? Call for help, hit the emergency button that's NOT on the console? I'm gonna starve to death here! Perhaps the years in the office in civilized society had made him overlook such a fact. That the only things you had to worry about where getting mugged on the street or getting struck by a semi-truck after some mishap on the highway. If the elevator got stuck you just pulled out your phone and said, "Hey, I'm stuck." But now he was, for all he knows, alone in some jungle on an island that no one, but he and the owners of this facility, if they were around that is, knows about.
His panic attack subsided when the elevator came to a stop, a chime, and the doors parted once again. Pat sighed in relief.
But what was behind the door didn't quite settle him.
The long hallway lay before him, some bloodstains on the metal-paneled floor. The lights gave off a yellow-orange glow from above. Square vents, pipes, and wires ran up and down the hall. As the cab did not have a console, Pat theorized that this elevator only went in one direction. Well, better find a way out. 487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5H2vz2GQ8M
He went this way and that, down corridors to find an exit. Some doors opened, some didn't. He was forced to go downstairs or down slopes. The lower he got, it seemed the more ominous a feeling he got. It did not help his anxiety when he discovered the office. In the room, there was a large portrait on the wall behind an expensive looking desk. A finely dressed man with glasses was in it. Below the image, in a brass placard, it said, "Acta deos numquam mortalia fallunt." What's that supposed to mean? Honestly, Pat did not study too much when it came to foreign languages, only the stuff they expected him to learn in high school. Even then, he wasn't such a star student. On the desk were some reports. Skimming through them the words "genetic," and "manipulation," were common. I really hope this is only about where my peaches and apples come from. To Pat's discontent, multiple print-outs were found in a folder, suggesting human anatomy. Before he felt even sicker, he sprinted back out into the hall and began again searching for an exit. 487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGcmM3rk4yK
Someone ran across from him, at a "T" intersection in a hallway. The lights down here were weak and dim, so he could only see the person's shape.
"Hello?" Pat called out. "You there?"
There was no response.
"Umm..." Pat wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, "I don't mean to trespass, but my plane crashed. Uh, Swift Flight Airlines. I'm not some kind of spy or anything."
He walked down the hall to follow the person.487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgPHvuX7nxk
"My brother's getting married, and I just might be able to make the party afterward, y'know?" He laughed nervously, only the buzzing of some machinery being the other noise in the hall. "I just want to get out. You all can blindfold me, I won't tell anyone about this place, uh wherever it is." Pat dug into his mind, trying to remember more movie cliches that involved secret military operations to help save his skin in case they decide to acknowledge him.
No sign of the person was down the hall, but there was, on one wall, a heavy metal door that was ajar. Within, a whitish-blue light glowed. He knocked on the door, which seemed pointless to him, and he slid in.
It was a sight that almost sent him to the ground in shock and horror.
Tubes, arrays of them, all filled with people. They were submerged in a clear liquid, bubbles in it as if they were fish in an aquarium. Rubber hoses were attached to them as they floated, eyes closed and motionless. Some of the tubes were broken, shattered and leaving a wet mess of glass fragments below it. He walked up to one tube and saw that within was the stewardess that showed them how a seatbelt works. In another, the man who snored so loud in front of him. From the plane... They ended up here... Behind a metal table, a wrinkly head peaked over, its red eyes glowed. When he looked it in the eyes, it snickered and hid. But more sprang, some hanging from the pipes on the ceiling. They were like people, though extremely skinny and with dark blue skin. They grinned, sinister smiles playing on their faces.487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡu768nLGWFL
"Another test subject. My servants shall take care of you." A voice behind him spoke.
He was a larger man, about a foot and a half taller than Pat. He was unnaturally bulky; he looked like he could pull a truck. His labcoat five-times too small for his giant frame. His wet hair grew over his face, but did nothing to hid his horrific features: a third eye growing under his left that his glasses didn't quite accommodate, an oversized jaw lined with teeth that reminded him of a shark, a cluster of horns that grew on his forehead, and a tongue that was green and bumpy.
"Does my appearance frighten you? I'm sorry, it seems I wasn't ready to receive guests." The monster asked, "Perhaps that is what it is like when a mortal stands before a god." 487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq0JczV1dyV
The monster stepped closer into the light and Pat could see it had some resemblance to the man in the portrait he had seen in the office, minus the features, of course.
"Your body... You will help with my research, just like the others." The creature mused, pointing at the tubes occupied by his fellow passengers.
"Oh! Oh...Uh." Were the only noises Pat Morgan could get out as the creatures screamed an order to his experiments.487Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCfMozcGZay
