My footsteps echoed through the hallway like a bell, tolling endlessly. A cacophony of laughing and screaming assaulted my ears, tearing at me. I had gotten used to ignoring it; with 30 years of it under my belt, it was only a matter of time before I became desensitised.
The two soldiers flanking me kept me calm, though finding a secluded corner to cry in was still a tantalising thought. I checked the time on my watch for the umpteenth time. This was the time of week that I either hated or loved the most. It was hard to tell at times.
When I began my work on Project Nosferatu, I had engrossed myself fully, loving every minute of it. Now though, the things that I’d seen had changed my perspective on life. All of my work had to mean something, because in the end, if it didn’t, then what would that make me? Shaking off my dark thoughts, I quickened my pace.
The stone hallways of the Ural Mountain facility were cold, much like it’s inhabitants. I had come to call this desolate mountain-scape home. Nothing grew here. In fact, the place was famous for death. Places like Dyatlov Pass gave these mountains a stigma that all had come to respect and, most importantly, fear.
I finally reached the end of the holding block where we kept all of the subjects. The holding cell at the end was reserved for our ‘perfect specimen’, as we called it when talking to our financers.
I still remember when I was first approached for the job. I had been in and out of prison for the most part, and I could barely keep afloat in the dead economy. During my time in prison, I found a sort of satisfaction in tormenting my fellow inmates to pass the time. It turned into a bit of a game: how quickly could I bend this person's mind, and how far would it go until it broke entirely? Some military types had approached me with a job offer. I remember thinking that I was going to be drafted as a soldier for the dreaded Silent War.
But I wasn’t wanted for duty on the battlefield, rather they were after my mind. The Russian government had decided that it was time that they developed their own super soldiers for the war. I accepted, as the opportunity to do what I loved with government approval was just too tantalising to refuse.
We finally arrived at Subject 539’s door, which was state of the art, making sure that nothing could get out of the room. The subject had been acquired at an earlier age than was usual, due to unusual circumstances. At 4 years of age, 539 was always the butt of the other Subject’s jokes due to his size and rather feeble emotional state. As time went by, the weak were rooted out, but the small 539 survived the gamut of harsh tests. Soon, he was the oldest of the bunch. The other kids had learned to avoid 539 because, as he got older, he became more angry, more sadistic.
He took pleasure in the pain and suffering of the others, to a horrifying extent. It got to a point where he would be killing the Subjects that did not meet his qualifications required to be his peer. We had to separate 539 from the other Subjects, as he was just getting too violent.
In a census of the Subjects, when asked about 539, they all responded with fear. He had already been deemed the most dangerous Subject of all the ones we had worked on at the early age of 13.
539 was 19 now, an adult. Rumors about him ran rampant through the Subjects. His reputation for wanton brutality had morphed his image. What stuck to the Subjects was his calling card for killing. He enjoyed ripping out throats with his hands and mouth.
This earnt 539 the nickname ‘Creature’ among the most terrified of the Subjects.
The door to 539’s guest room slid open silently. The room was sparse, with a chair for me to sit in and a large, bullet-proof window looking into the cell. We preferred to call the cells living quarters, but 539 had earned a cell through his actions.
I walked into the adjoining room, sitting down on the plush chair in front of the window. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. I had discussions with the Subject each week, checking in on how he was progressing in his ‘training’.
Each time I came out of those discussions, I was afraid of my own shadow.
I opened my eyes and looked into 539’s cell. There didn’t seem to be anything there, but I knew better from experience.
‘You can come out now, 539.’ I said into the microphone sticking out of the wall. For a few seconds it seemed as though I was mistaken, but eventually 539 came out of the shadowy corner he hid in.
‘I told you, Doctor, to call me Vlad.’ He wheezed. 539 talked quietly, barely louder than the heater pumping out warm air. His voice was coarse, like an anchor being dragged across the deck of a ship. The Subject, many years ago, had once asked me what his name was before he came here. In a moment of weakness, I revealed that he had been called Vlad, and ever since he had insisted on being called by his name. It was an insistence that the other Subjects had no choice but to follow, sadly, so I was really the only one left calling him by his identification code.
‘We are not friends, 539, so I will not address you as such.’ I tried to sound authoritative, but all I could manage was a whimper.
‘Then, may I still call you Volkov?’ He asked me. I sighed heavily. We had this exact conversation every week.
‘No, you may call me Doctor and nothing else.’ I was getting annoyed, which I did every time I talked to Vlad. I understood the hypocrisy of calling Subject 539 “Vlad” in my head and journals, but I needed to assert dominance over him, or he would walk all over me.
Vlad just smiled. ‘How are you feeling today, 539?’ I asked, trying to change the subject, as I always did.
Vlad responded: ‘I am hungry, Volkov.’ He drew out the word hungry, whispering it so quietly that I almost leaned in closer to listen. Almost. ‘Won’t you feed me?’ I shivered uncontrollably. The little bastard knew how to push my buttons, and he pushed them too damn well.
‘As you know, first you have your physical conditioning, then you may eat.’ I was getting a bit aggressive, but I just couldn’t stop myself. Vlad didn’t seem to mind, as a twisting grin contorted his face.
With a hunched back, Vlad crept toward the heavy-duty window that separated him from the world. ‘I wonder, Volkov, if you taste any good.’ Up until this point, it had been business as usual, but this was different, wrong.
My face blanched slightly, but I hid my reaction well. ‘Enough of that, Vlad. Walk to the corner, face the wall.’ I stammered. ‘I don’t want to ask again.’
Vlad’s smile widened, the corner of his pale lips twisting up into a smirk. For a few seconds Vlad kept still, looking into me intently. Before I could reprimand him, though, he stalked into the corner of his room, his back to the door. My two guards opened the door, walking into the room with eyes plastered on the Subject. He put up no fight, however he was looking very pleased, as though he had won the lottery.
I paid no heed to Vlad’s antics, I just thought he was trying to play with me, and I was having none of it. Vlad, his escorts and I walked back through the holding block. Usually when we transported a Subject for physical conditioning, or any type of conditioning really, the other Subjects would call and jeer, but with Vlad, they were silent as the grave.
Vlad looked his peers in the eyes. He was their nightmares in tangible form, a monster from the story books, which some Subjects might’ve known in their early childhoods. I could tell Vlad gained a sort of sadistic pleasure from the fear exhibited by the Subjects, which on a level I was proud of. Despite all of my misgivings, he was my legacy, my greatest achievement.
It was whilst that thought was running through my head that my world crashed around me. I focused on my surroundings, concentration taken away from my thoughts by a loud yelp. My vision focused on Vlad sinking his teeth into a soldier’s neck.
The blood ran from my face, leaving it a pale colour, akin to Vlad’s. The dying soldier made a quiet gurgling sound before he finally died.
The other escort, clearly taken by surprise, was slow to react, but still quick enough to bring his hands up to stop Vlad’s lunge at him. Vlad tore at the man with his elongated fingers, eyes boring into his escort’s.
Vlad hooked his leg around the soldier’s, bringing them both to the ground, where he ripped out the man’s throat. It seemed that Vlad was savouring the taste of blood, so my body finally reacted by fleeing the grizzly scene.
My legs moved of their own volition, not listening to my pleas to hide me. I ran past the living quarters, not taking the time to examine the Subjects, who would most likely be hiding from Vlad’s view. I finally arrived at my personal office, which was guarded like a fortress by a squad of guards.
I collapsed on my tattered chair, gulping down large breaths of air. I hastily pushed the silent alarm that was hidden underneath my desk, alerting the base commander.
I sat in my office, chest heaving, for a few minutes before it was reinforced with the rest of the soldiers. The safeguard contingency was to abandon the rest of the facility to the Subjects, regroup and then reinstate order.
Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
I barely took notice of the soldiers who attempted to pry answers out of me as to why they were here. I only talked in terse responses, never offering more information than was absolutely necessary.
Night fell on the Urals, leaving a dread chill as the only thing that proved that I wasn’t dreaming. It was a long and cold night.
I drifted in and out of sleep, never staying under for more than half an hour. My dreams were of a dark figure cloaked in crimson, sweeping towards me on phantom legs that left no indication of their passing. The figure whispered incomprehensibly, infecting my ears with madness.
The figure continued to haunt me even when I was awake, seeing bloody eyes everywhere I looked. It felt as though there was always a presence behind me, watching me.
I heard footsteps with no partnered feet, talking with no mouth, screaming with no victims.
I was losing my sanity slowly, at an excruciating pace.
Soon, the soldiers took control of the facility once more. We found that Vlad had done little to the building; the Subjects were terrified but untouched, nothing was broken and all seemed normal. Except, of course, that Vlad himself was missing.
I was protected by 4 men at all times, being checked in on every hour. It felt good to be guarded, but it was oppressive with no personal space.
A peculiar find was discovered within Vlad’s cell, though. It seemed that Vlad had documented his time in the Ural facility since the time he knew how to write. I read over the diary multiple times, feeling myself get closer to the monster I had created.
A few of the diary entries that caught my interest were these:
⬧⬧⬧
March 18, 2064
I found this empty book in the Doctor’s office, it was underneath a large pile of old, dusty books. I’ve kept the book for a while, but I think that writing in it might help me from feeling so lonely.
Igor and his cronies beat on me yesterday. It really hurt. Igor has always had something against me, I don’t know what, but I don’t know what I can do about it.
None of the other boys and girls have ever really liked me, but I take solace in the memory of mother. The Doctor told me I was 4 years old when he first found me. He had told me that my mother died of pneumonia and that he had brought me here for my safety, but from the looks the Doctor gives me, I sometimes wonder whether my mother really died at all.
I feel sick all the time now. The Doctor is ruthless with his “conditioning”, but I go along with it, otherwise I’m not allowed my weekly meal.
It’s been a few hours since I last wrote. Since then, I bumped into Igor again. I tried to make amends for whatever I’ve done wrong, but Igor just kicked me and spat on me.
Whenever I tell the Doctor of Igor’s bullying, he just tells me to fight back, but I don’t want to hurt Igor, it’s wrong.
I can hear the guards laughing and stumbling about. Whenever they get drunk, they tend to take out their frustrations on us. I can hear them coming closer. If I don’t hide the book soon, they’ll surely take it from me.
⬧⬧⬧
December 25?, 2067
I think it’s Christmas, but I can’t be sure. The Doctor found my actions in response to Igor’s teasing to be unacceptable, so I was thrown into the “Pit” as the other children call it.
I thankfully hid my diary, so here I am. There’s only a little light when the clouds don’t obscure the moon, so I have to write in parts, as, for hours, I am bathed in darkness.
My eyes hurt from trying to concentrate on my diary in such low light. I’m hoping that the Doctor will release me in the morning, as the yearly roast that we’re allowed needs to be prepared tonight, and if I don’t help I won’t get even a small piece.
I should probably mention why I’m in the Pit, I’ve been trying to forget about it since. The Doctor tells me that I shouldn’t keep my emotions bottled up, he tells me that makes me unpredictable.
Igor has been getting more sedate these past few years, I’ve been allowed some peace. But something made him snap. It might’ve been the pressure of performing at his best all of the time. I know that I get stressed from the pressure, but I enjoy the way the Doctor pushes me.
Anyway, Igor just snapped. He was telling me how my mother had abandoned me, how she didn’t love me, so she gave me to the Doctor for testing. That’s bullshit! I know my mother loved me, but I know that we were separated without her consent.
One day, one day soon, I WILL be reunited with my mother, I know she’s out there, waiting for me.
I couldn’t stop myself from killing Igor.
He just kept pushing, and pushing and pushing and PUSHING!
I won’t tolerate Igor’s bullying anymore.
The Doctor tells me that I need to stand up for myself or I’ll equate to nothing. So I stood up for myself. I still remember the way Igor tasted, his blood flowing smoothly down my throat.
I know that humans have lots of blood, but when I tore into the boy’s throat, the blood just kept on coming.
My mouth is watering even now with just the thought.
And the way his lean muscles resisted my tearing, it was a feeling similar to what reuniting with my mother will surely feel like.
I’m not going to break in the Pit, I am stronger. My mother is expecting me, and I shall not disappoint.
⬧⬧⬧
August 3, 2070
Gertruda flinched when she looked at me today.
I’ve enjoyed being better than all of the other children, but they’ve never been scared of me before.
At first I was surprised, but as Gertruda refused to come anywhere near me, I started feeling just how intoxicating being feared is. I haven’t felt like this outside of the coppery life-blood that I enjoy oh-so-much.
I now want everybody to fear me, even the Doctor. If they all fear me, that means they might let me go. Why would they want a scary Subject? They wouldn’t!
The sooner they let me out, the sooner I can see my mother.
I have a plan. If I can act scary to the other children, then the Doctor might notice me!
I can hear some of the other children coming back from conditioning. I’ll seek them out and report my success in tomorrow’s entry.
April 17, 2074
I’ve tried so hard.
All I want is for the Doctor to let me go.
I’ve tried asking, but everybody just laughs at me in their tiny heads.
I’m tired of people laughing at me.
I want people screaming when they see me.
I want them to know what I’m willing to do to see my mother.
I know she’s waiting for me.
SHE’S JUST OUT OF MY REACH.
I hear Doctor Volkov entering my cell.
He’s going to know who I really am, now.
He can’t hide my mother from me.
Nothing can stop me from finding her,
⬧⬧⬧
For so long I’d underestimated how twisted Vlad really was. I’d just thought that his madness ended with his killing, but no, he was fantasising about seeing his mother. From reading his diary, you’d think that he only ever thought about her.
That’s why I felt so bad. For most children, we take them from their parents, as Vlad suggests. But with Vlad, I was telling the truth. I would know: he was my nephew.
My sister was my best friend in childhood, our parents didn’t like me all that much, but little Annika had always accepted me for who I was. A tear ran down my cheek as I thought about her.
I remembered when Vlad was born, he was pronounced stillborn. Annika bawled as she held her dead baby in her arms. Suddenly, Vlad let out this almighty cry, breath flooding into his tiny lungs.
When Annika died, I wanted to take Anatoly in as my own son, but he was scooped up for the very project I ran.
I sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the past on my shoulders. When Vlad was introduced as Subject 539, I cried for days. But there was a job to be done, and a 4 year old wasn’t going to stop me from saving the motherland.
With Vlad, I had always pushed a bit harder than the rest, trying to make him into the best person he could be.
Looking back at my actions, all I could feel was shame. Shame for not nurturing Vlad, shame for not pushing to adopt Vlad. Shame for not caring enough to do anything about it, shaming Annika in the process.
An odd bang from above me interrupted my brooding. My eyebrows knitted together whilst I looked up to see what made the noise.
My eyes locked with Vlad’s. My office had the best ducting out of any room of the facility, but as I looked up at Vlad, who had climbed into the ducting and was now looking down on me, I felt more shame for having indulged in myself as much as I had.
For the longest 5 seconds of my life, Vlad’s eyes kept hold of mine in an iron grip.
Finally, Vlad interrupted our staring contest by dropping down on top of me. I wanted to shove him off, to run out the door, to not stop running, but my muscles locked up and I was frozen.
A wide smile stretched Vlad’s face, swirling his features grotesquely. ‘Hello, Volkov,’ Vlad wheezed. ‘I’m afraid that I must take my leave from your little hell. I have a mother that I must reunite with.’
I wanted to explain everything to him so badly, but my body refused to comply. All I could manage was a stammer. He looked disappointed at my silence.
This wasn’t the innocent Vlad that I saw grow up, this was a creature that I had pushed over the edge.
Creature. I couldn’t even bring myself to call it Vlad. Creature was the only name that fit the monster that loomed over me.
It’s mouth opened wide, showing the dark, stained teeth that had claimed so many young lives. All those deaths were on me. If I had just tried to be a good uncle, if I had just applied some damn effort, I might have avoided this situation.
It was too late, though; what’s done was done.
‘I wonder how you will taste, Volkov.’ It whispered in my ear. ‘Will you taste as good as everybody else?’
Tears ran down my face in a torrent as the creature bit down on my neck, squeezing like a vice.
All of a sudden, an intense pain was all that I could feel. That pain was my world, the beginning and the end. A face flashed through my mind before I bled out. Annika?
My sister smiled down on me as I took my last breath.