New Atlantis [Old Ver]

Out

➤ Content Warning: This story contains scenes of graphic violence, intense horror, and unsettling imagery that may be disturbing to some readers. Expect elements such as gore, psychological suspense, supernatural themes, and depictions of fear and panic in a dark and desolate setting. Reader discretion is advised.

~~~

In the middle of the night, the barricaded gates loomed ahead, fortified with thick layers of electrical wiring and surrounded by six generators, casting an eerie glow on the scene. Beneath the metal framework lay four walkie-talkies-each one dusty, blackish-red, with battered antennas sticking up like worn-out teeth. Marco picked up a walkie-talkie, testing it by twisting the dial, and immediately turned on the remaining three. As he spoke into the microphone, his voice echoed across the other walkie-talkies, crackling in the silence.

"Hello?" he said, uncertainly. The voice reverberated, sounding strange and metallic. Marco swallowed and glanced over at Rayleigh, who looked tense, as if the silence itself was pulling at his nerves. Marco informed him of the strange echo, and Rayleigh, overwhelmed by the weird atmosphere, grabbed the rest of the walkie-talkies and stashed them in the backseat, as if wanting to be rid of them.

With a nervous glance, Rayleigh took the driver's seat, while Marco climbed into the passenger side. As soon as he shut the door, a low, inhuman groan filled the vehicle, and Marco stiffened, noticing the radio flickering to life on the dashboard. The radio-a piece of junk they'd broken a while back-was suddenly alive. Marco pointed at it, his voice low. "Wait... isn't that thing broken?"

Rayleigh's eyes darted to the radio, dread pooling in his gut. "Does that mean...?"

Before he could finish, a garbled voice came through the speakers, distorted and grotesque. A man's voice, pleading and groaning, filled the car. The sound of glass shattering and footsteps crunching through broken debris followed.

"NO! NO, NO!" the man screamed, his words punctuated by desperate gasps. A guttural growl echoed, something far too close and far too hungry. The sounds of a violent struggle flooded the radio-flesh tearing, bones snapping, and a sickening splatter. The man's screams turned to whimpers, then silence. An eerie scraping filled the air, as though the creature that had taken him was clawing across the floor, dragging what was left of him away.

The vivid, horrifying noises broke Rayleigh's composure. In his mind, he could almost see the scene as if he were there, each sickening detail carved into his imagination. Unable to bear it, he flung the car door open and stumbled outside, retching onto the ground, his body trembling. Marco, shaking, grabbed a wrench from the back, his mind racing. Without thinking, he lunged for the radio, smashing it with a frenzied scream, the wrench swinging wildly. Each blow echoed in the night, shattering plastic and scattering wires across the dashboard. Rayleigh watched in shock as Marco swung again and again until the radio was nothing but mangled fragments.

Breathing heavily, Marco straightened, staring at the ruined device with wide eyes. Rayleigh staggered back into the car, his hand fumbling for the air conditioning controls, desperate to calm himself. He flicked the switch-and froze. The radio, mangled just seconds before, was perfectly intact. It looked untouched, as though Marco had never laid a hand on it.

"What... the hell?" Marco whispered, stepping back in, his eyes fixed on the radio. The screen flickered, and bold white letters appeared on the small monitor beside it: "1/6"

Meanwhile, Arkie and Yanna, positioned near the cabin, worked to fix one of the hidden generators buried within dense foliage. The tools they had weren't great, but they scraped by, tightening bolts and readjusting wires. Arkie's hands trembled as he fumbled with the machinery.

"Why don't you wait in the car?" he muttered, barely able to keep his grip steady.

Yanna shook her head, determined. "No, let's get this done together. I don't trust this place," she replied, glancing nervously at the darkened treeline.

After a moment of silence, Arkie spoke, his voice uncertain. "You think we'll really be able to fix this thing?"

Yanna opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by a faint groan coming from the direction of the car. She straightened, looking toward the sound.

"You heard that?" she asked, voice tense.

Arkie shrugged. "Probably just the wind-or maybe it's the car engine. Who knows in a place like this?" He forced a grin, but Yanna stayed silent, sensing something wrong.

Finally, Arkie finished the repairs, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Done," he announced, his voice relieved. He gathered his tools, stuffing them back into his bag. Yanna sighed, collecting her own gear and glancing around warily.

"Let's pack up and get out of here," she said, and they both moved toward the car. But as they reached it, Arkie paused, hearing a faint crackling noise emanating from the radio. Ignoring it, he busied himself placing spare parts into the back of the vehicle.

Just then, Yanna noticed something slip from her pocket. Bending down, she found the note she had picked up from the abandoned helicopter. She unfolded it, noticing a name scrawled across the bottom in messy handwriting: "Arkie." Beneath the name, in even smaller letters, was the phrase, "Flash it." Her hands trembled as she read the words, heart pounding.

Back with Rayleigh and Marco, they continued down the road, past a tall, ominous gate. One of the electrical wires was clearly offline, sparking in the darkness.

"I think Arkie and Yanna must have done some work on the generator," Marco said, trying to break the tension. Rayleigh nodded absently, gripping the wheel tight.

"Yeah... We just need to keep moving. No stopping," Rayleigh replied, the strain evident in his voice.

As they drove on, an unsettling feeling washed over them-something was following, lurking in the dark trees beside the road. They heard it, each step too fast, too heavy, running alongside the car. Marco's hand flew to the wrench, his knuckles white.

"Faster, Rayleigh. Whatever it is, it's close!" Marco hissed.

Rayleigh pressed down on the gas, the car lurching forward. Just as they reached a crossroads, the sudden blare of a train horn cut through the silence. Red stoplights flashed, illuminating the shadows around them. They both held their breath, eyes scanning the silent, dead trees surrounding them, as the noise stopped as quickly as it had begun. The woods fell silent, as if even nature itself was holding its breath.

They waited, every muscle tense, the silence suffocating. Rayleigh gripped the wheel, his eyes darting left to right, while Marco scanned the shadows, his wrench still in hand.

Back at the other car, Arkie climbed into the driver's seat, brushing off the unease that clung to him. Yanna, still pale and shaken, clutched a wrench, hiding it beside her as she looked around nervously, the ominous note echoing in her mind: "Flash it."

And then, suddenly, the radio crackled back to life. A voice came through, distorted and barely understandable, as if from some distant realm.

"One out of six... completed."

The words sent a chill through the car, freezing them in place as the sound of distant footsteps grew closer, moving toward both cars.