26th of January, 1935 – Here I am, just a single week later, packing my bag for a journey to who the hell knows where. The map which was sealed within the parchment is awfully bewildering. First off, its direction is of an uncomforting travel: three hundred and eighty-six kilometers northern drive, and another eight on foot. The location is just of a completely nonsensical nature as well! The slightest possibility of any sort of living quarters lasting out there would be a spectacle for sure. Either way, I’m making sure to pack for myself some extra petrol. After all, there are surely no stations out that far a distance. I’d be sure to pack myself much water as well. I’d assure that even Alfred, with the age he has reached, will find the walk to be of such great a burden. Nothing but large rocks and thick mud for the whole of the five, I would assume. The Northern Moorlands of all places! What could the professor possibly_________
27th of January, 1935 – Only about forty of the hundreds of miles has been driven so far, and already have I witnessed the land lose all signs of what was an overall civil existence. The land was absolutely engulfed in an endless black, that of which put but a few inches of visibility between me and the rest of the world. Despite the presence of a waning gibbous in the otherwise colorless clouds above, I can truly say that the only conceivable land before me and Alfred was that of the tarnished and grass-lined path within the borders of my headlights. Beyond those borders, from what we understood, lie an endless void of absolute silence and mystery. If I had to compare, I would say that if it be that the deepest and darkest abysses of the oceans were of livable, breathable condition, they would surely appear as this.
The rolling hills and mountains of this primal landscape were quite strenuous to make out, but their shadows were enough to see how gargantuan they truly were. The great complex that has towered over America’s king metropolis for the past 4 years is nothing compared to the great size of these natural titans. As I drove along these pitch-black trails for hours that strained long after sundown, I viewed something quite off-putting along the side of the road. No…not off-putting. Horrific would best describe it. A nonhumanoid figure is what I viewed. A primal cousin of my dear old beagle, if you will. About the creature was a size comparable to Alfred’s, a coat of orange, and a bushy, white-tipped tail. In its jaw lay that of a carcass. The carcass of a large cockerel, that of which was most comfortably at rest in its coop but an hour before. It’s funny, isn’t it? In my childhood, I thought these small creatures of an appealing nature, as they were quite docile and unnoticing of my fellow race. Now here it stands, blood, flesh, and whitened foam spilling from its teeth as the thing growled and sprinted along the side of my mobile. Thankfully, one swift bark from my old pooch sent the small beast tearing away into the tall grass alongside the trail, obviously off in search of other more helpless things to devour.
“Just a fox, old boy”, I reassured him, “No need for concern.”
As I write this, we are stopped along the path. Alfred now rests quietly and comfortably in the seat adjacent my own, and so shall I be the same way in some short minutes. It haunts me to think that such a conscientious fellow as him could even be remotely related to something of such savage and, if I must say, immoral nature as that. I must admit, though, that as the days since that talk with the professor increase, the more sensical his words begin to appear. What I still don’t understand, however, is his other more insane hypotheses.
28th of January, 1935 – When I woke this morning, it was to the barks and gentle pawing of Alfred against my chest. My watch read about eight when I finished replenishing the petrol tank, then sparked the engine and proceeded to complete the remaining two-hundred-kilometer portion of this journey. Even in the light of day did this landscape look rather unsettling to the human eye. The titanic hills of this place were still quite the sight to behold even now as the sun’s rays lay upon them. Their thick nocturnal shadows now took the form of a dense glowing fog that spanned the length of and shrouded the mountainous peaks in an unending cloud of white. The valley at their bases was no different, as it spewed the ghostly haze from its rivers and creeks in tens of gallons by the second. Until the last of its kind was struck down in about the 16th century, I’d assume such a natural phenomena to be of benefit to England’s great feral canids. Old Alfred’s great ancestors could so easily hide among the sea of pale color, waiting for any smaller, weaker organism to stroll right into its jaws. I’d say that even today, with what I had witnessed the night before, even the absence of such a savage species of canine could not strip these lands of their primal and predatory nature.
It was about five past four in the afternoon when I had finally completed the long drive. As I had predicted, the walk was truly something treacherous. Thankfully, it was the large rocks that had been of benefit to me and my pooch, as they kept us out of the bog for most of the travel. Only once did I lose my footing on one of them, but it was Alfred who was there to grab me by the pantleg to steady me once more.
“That a boy.” I had said.
What the condition of my dear colleague’s study was I did not know. The only information that I could gather on it was whatever the old nutter had written in his estranged letter. On the map he had supplied, the destination was simply marked as, “Godeman’s Quarters”. As I travel toward this point with great care, I wonder what could truly be of such astounding achievement that the professor would feel it necessary to bring me this far out into the wild landscape. What I mean is that my dear friend treats this “achievement” as if the hand of God himself has come down from heaven to shake him about the hand!
“Change the biological world.” I scoffed.
I have been so confidential about his hypotheses up until this point in time. But, at this point, I must at least ask of this: How could plant growth and evolution in any way be the same bloody thing?!______________________________
The twilight sat just at the edge of the mist-clad peaks when I arrived at my destination. Even with that bit of rays still left in the sky, the Moorlands were already completely devoured by the ever-so familiar black of the night previous. With help from the light of the lantern in my knapsack, I and my dog were able to behold a thick metal door in the face of the earth. A pressure valve was the only thing that stood between me and whatever amendment to creation that my friend has seemingly made.
“What sort of paranoid being would live in such a place as this, boy?” I inquired of Alfred.
For Heaven’s sake, who am I to ask a question as sane sounding as that? Here I was, talking to a damned beagle, having drove and walked the length of the continent for a demented teacher’s war bunker!
I must keep my head. However, depending on what it is that I may find in this place, I am afraid it may not be kept for much longer. I grabbed hold of the valve and, with all the strength I could muster, fully depressurized the door. From there, pulling it open was of significant ease. It was entering this place that was the hard part. For when I completely unsealed the hole, what lie before me was a long, seemingly unending staircase that led far into the Earth’s crust. I say unending because the bunker was, shockingly, unlit by any other light aside from my lantern. However, even the burning oil was not enough to cut all the way to the bottom of this impressively long flight of steps. It was as if the darkness were all-consuming, extinguishing any and all luminosity as it tried so desperately to break its way through. Slowly I began to descend, taking my time with each passing step. I simply refused to increase speed out of fear of what unknown entities may lie ahead and take offense to my presence here. Yes, I may sound as though of madness, but I am afraid that this place is not naturally dark. I could see, in the gleam of my lantern, that there was in fact lighting in this hall, but none of it active. In other words, there was a reason as to why these lights had been shut off.
With this in mind, I found myself reducing my pace even further than before. I could tell that even Alfred was now just as unnerved as myself, for he began to whimper ever so very slightly the more we descended. The further down we went, the more the darkness seemed to eat away at the borders of the lantern’s gleam. Then, after what felt like greater than ten minutes, I could feel something. Something cold to the skin, rising up from the darkness to greet me.
It almost felt like breathing.
My blood ran cold as I then swiftly moved backwards up two or more steps. I was now fully prepared to sprint the whole of a kilometer away from whatever living fiend should come bursting out of that void at any given moment. My heart punched the inside of my chest as I readied myself. Alfred was one to stand his ground, though, as he pitched a low guttural snarl out into the shadows ahead.
But nothing happened. It took us both about a minute to realize the true nature of the breath itself. We could now tell that it was, in fact, a low yet steady breeze blowing upwards through the tunnel. Now quite curious, I began to complete what I had started, moving forward down what I now realized was the last few remaining steps. I could feel my ears pop as I then witnessed the ground begin to bottom out and open up into a much greater chamber: I had at last reached the bottom.
“Jack, my good man!” I called out, “Are you here?!”
There was no response. I crept, slower now, into the open chamber, and the now quiet and confident beagle followed shortly after. What we beheld in this room was a large, impressive, yet quite gloomy appearing laboratory. The way I could best describe it was that it appeared as a much more sizeable rendition of Godeman’s first lab back at King’s College in London. On one side of the room sat soil troughs like those back at the college, but the sunflowers that grew from these were quite different. Not only were they far more massive in height than the first lab’s prior, but the branches on these things…their lengths seemed to grow to the ceiling, and from there the width of the room. I shone my light upon the sprawling snake-like vines only for me to realize something even stranger.
These weren’t branches, or even vines for that matter. They were tubes. Long, translucent tubes that pulsed a strange greenish substance off towards an unknown destination.
Were the flowers producing this substance? Had he engineering them to be poisonous? Does he plan to use them for the sake of weaponry?
The nature of this situation was so confusing that I was so greatly disturbed indeed. I continued to follow these vein-like cords along the roof of the lab for about a minute and a half. Then, next thing I realized was that they eventually seemed to curve downward as they trailed down the side of the metal wall. I shined my light downwards in that direction, and here I beheld their point of completion. Before me sat a large and cluttered lab workbench, that of which seemed to span all the way to the door in which I entered. Upon this table sat a giant lab notebook, several syringes, beakers, and a plethora of other organic chemistry-related equipment. The condition of this setup made it appear as though not touched for days, as it was undusted and unorganized. However, the most outstanding of the items in this scene was where the translucent tubes seemed to empty out their contents: a collection of large overflowing vials that all sat upon a dozen or so inactive burners, spilling the unnamed liquid in waterfalls out onto the ground.
I dared not touch whatever acid or other toxin was spewing out from within those vials, as I’d despise the risk of losing an index or thumb. I instead drew my attention to the lab book that sat at the opposite end of this clutter of material. If I was to figure out the meaning of all this, then I must investigate Jack’s written observations. I hurried over to the book and flipped it open with great force, knocking but only a few small syringes off the bench and onto the floor. As I read the tattered pages, I became acutely aware of the strange mannerism in which Jack wrote. It was in one matching that of the letter I received, in other words being rushed and almost incomprehensible. However, it was not the mannerism in which he wrote that disturbed me. It was the familiarity of what I read that did just that. Yes, I know I promised myself to refrain from discussing the inconceivable theories of this madman in full, but now I feel it to be completely necessary. Here is what was written:
October 4th, 1934
Thorough observation and analysis for the past several months has confirmed my suspicions: plant growth is in fact an actual form of evolution! This would make our everyday plants the quickest evolving organism to ever grace the face of this planet! Further examination has also shown that some plants may evolve faster and much more superior than others. The greatest of these is the common sunflower, which can complete an excess of 2 evolutionary cycles in no more than a single month!! It may sound maddening, but just imagine…
From that point onwards was the page completely unreadable. However, despite its crooked nature, it was not this entry that frightened me, but the final one.
December 1st, 1934
Could it truly be so easy?!!!! Now it is the time to find a subject. One that is not of direct ancestry. If I can truly accomplish this, then the power of God is within the hands of man.
-Godeman
I had to find him. I had to find my good friend in this God-forsaken place. He has truly lost all his sanity, and I must get him to a place of treatment immediately! I looked desperately around for any other doors aside from the one I entered through. If he had built the place out this far a distance, then he must surely have some sort of living quarters. To my luck, I did find another doorway, but not just one. There was a total of four open halls that lay before me, and all seemed to connect in some way or another.
“Blimey,” I whispered to myself, “The man’s built himself a labyrinth.”
How selfish it is of him to do this! With all the money he obviously seems to have, rather than help the afflicted of the Great Slump, he’d rather spend it on this hellish creation! No matter. Once I find him, this shall all be seized by the proper authorities and put to good use, I’m sure.
“Follow along, Alfred.” I called out, “…Alfred?”
Where had he run off to? I for certain remember him walking in with me, but not where he had then wandered from there. I soon found out as I heard loud barks coming from deep within the labyrinth itself. The silly old mutt had already scouted ahead! Now it appears that he has found something.
I snatched my lantern from off the bench then tore my way into the first door I saw. Even with the lantern, the corridors were just as hard to navigate in the dark as I had pictured. If it were not for his consistent yapping, I ‘d have never found Alfred in such a massive unlit expanse. Thankfully, his barks led me right into the one place I had been searching for: Jack’s living quarters.
“Jack!” I cried out, “Come out, I’m getting you the hell out of here!”
No answer. Where in the hell else could he be? I then called out for Alfred, and heard his bark come from the farthest side of the room. I made a mad sprint for that side, but not before tripping over something, nearly demolishing my lantern in the process. I held myself from falling and shined my light along the floor to see what it was I had stumbled on. A file cabinet. It had been thrown over on its side with its inner contents spilled all about the room. In fact, the entire room appeared to be in complete shambles with furniture and other belongings thrown in multiple different directions throughout the quarters. Jack must have had a breakdown in here! He truly had lost his mind, hadn’t he? I continued to run in the same direction until I came to a wall. The barks then came from the corner to my right. It was there that I finally came upon Alfred. He was standing atop a bed in the corner, licking at a pile of blankets. No, not a pile of blankets. A person. A person with the blankets draped messily across their body.
“Jack, old boy!” I shouted.
I shooed Alfred away and grabbed hold of Jack by the shoulder. I shook him hard, but to no avail. He did not stir an inch.
“Godeman, you bloody fool!” I slapped him in the face. “Wake up! Let me help you, please!!”
I rattled him for a good minute or more, but still nothing. I finally ripped the blanket from his body and…
I realized that it was not naturally red. The coloring of the blanket came off in my hands, soaking my palms and all the way down my arms with a thick flowing crimson.
The professor, my good friend Jack Godeman, had been severed open from the neck down. What remained of his insides lay in great pink clumps all over the mattress.
RUUUUUAAAAAGH!!!
That was what it resembled to the best of my recollection. The sound that still wakes me from my sleep at night, haunting me even in consciousness. The sound of God’s natural power when put into the hands of a mere mortal.
Whatever it was, it came from someplace out in the labyrinth. I had to clamp Alfred’s mouth shut with my hand out of fear that he may give away our position to it. I had no clue if it was far off down the hall in another chamber, or in fact standing right outside the door at this very moment, just waiting to make a move on us should we try to escape. The noise was just blaringly loud enough that I could not tell.
Either way, there was seemingly no hope left to find here. I was trapped. My dear colleague now lies dead, and the one thing standing between us and the civil world is a nightmare of his own creation_______________________________