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softupshur · 7 years

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F*ck This Place

A belated birthday gift one shot for @queen-of-upshur that I used as an excuse to try my hand at first person POV for Miles Upshur! Enjoy <3

read on ao3 if you prefer

The signal died halfway through the second guitar solo of ACDC’s “Back in Black”. Not the kind of dead where it was crackling and popping throughout and you could see it coming. This dead air came out of nowhere. One moment I was rocking out to Angus’ sick riffs, and the next, the static was so loud that it made my ears ring for a full minute afterwards.

“Jesus H. Christ…” I turned the the volume down, and began my search for a station still intact, but no matter how much I turned the dial, there was nothing but dead air, save for two: traffic reports and the local hick talk show.

Considering I was the only one on the road, I’d learn a lot more listening to some bored host tell me about the local agriculture seminar. He was probably some small town nobody who told himself that hosting this show was just the first step to some grand scheme. Next he’d get the daytime slot, then radio host, and bam, he’d be the next Howard Stern. All because he bit the bullet and hosted the late night talk show no one was up to hear at this hour.

Whatever your plan is, good luck, local nobody. You need it more than I do because I’m pulling up to the entrance and this place isn’t going to know what hit it.

I pulled up to the toll booth but there was no one inside to charge me an arm and a leg--biggest surprise all day. I parked the jeep and took my sweet time getting things together. It’s not like anyone else was crazy enough to come here at oh my God o’clock or whatever time it was.

Before I checked my supplies, I pulled up the email that brought me here. I couldn’t believe my luck when it popped up in my account. Ratting out on Murkoff was a death sentence. Those bastards knew how to cover their tracks and knew to be ready for undercover operations. It made bringing them down impossible but with this tip, I could be the one who caught them by surprise. All the snoop jobs, bottom of the barrel stories, trespassing violations would be worth it when I got this story--how those bastards what they missed out on when they had the gall to fire me.

I set the email down and pat my pockets for the paper and pen. I grabbed the camera. It was ready to go with a fresh battery but I grabbed a spare for good measure. I shouldn’t need any more than that. I reached for my press badge, but I stopped when I realize that would give these fuckers my name. Best try to circumvent security. Can’t be worse than dodging bullets when I was reporting on the battlefield.

When I stepped out of the jeep, I hold back laughter. This place looks more like a mad scientist’s lair than a hospital for the mentally ill. You think Murkoff would know a thing or two about subtlety to dodge the lawsuits over the years, but who am I to complain? It’ll make a damn good opening image for the piece.

I held the camera on the place for a bit, then panned down to see I wasn’t not the first one here thanks to the Military vehicles blocking off the entrance.

Sweet, maybe I can catch some arrests on camera. I went to the front entrance but the door wouldn’t budge.

Great. I thought I would be a law abiding citizen and waltzed right in, but no, Murkoff wants me to work for it. Fine, if that’s how it’s going to be.

I walked around to the left side of my building and see my ticket in.

Scaffolding towered high and sturdy enough for me to climb and ended right at the second story window. Must have caught them in the middle of remodelling. As if this place could look any more over the top. I bet they were going to install gargoyles for some dimestore symbolism about how much this place sucked--seemed like something they’d do.

I couldn’t fight the smirk as I climbed up the mess. It seemed this would be easier than I thought, but once I climbed through the window, the lights flickered off, leaving me in darkness.

How like Murkoff to spend a fortune on making the place look like Frankenstein’s castle, but skip out on the power bill.

Oh well, that’s what the night vision was for. I switched it on, and made it into a brightly lit hall. For whatever reason half the doors were locked or barricaded, but there was one lab that was wide open for me.

When I walked in, the first thing I noticed was the cover dangling from the edge of the vent. Second thing was a dish on the counter. It was filled with severed ears of all things. Was it for some experiment? If so, who the fuck thought it was a good idea to leave it by the vending machine? Not good for a man’s appetite. Still, I snagged a quick shot of it, before hoisting myself through the vent.

If nothing else, I’ll give Murkoff this: these vents are much roomier than what I usually get, and they offer a good view as I wandered from room to room, but then I hear a ruckus below.

A man in patient’s garb ran through. He screamed something about “Walrider”. I panicked for only a moment until I realized this guy looked like shit, too mistreated and malnourished to be a match for the likes of me. I reminded myself all the patients were probably in the same sorry state and took a deep breath, then pushed forward.

The opening I came to was a lot higher from the ground than I expected. Not that it would hurt me, but there’d be no coming back up. Not like that mattered. I wasted too much gas and snack money getting here to turn around.

It was time to fuck this place up.

I dropped down just in time to see another patient saunter through the hall. Only this one wasn’t so weak and scrawny. Hell, this guy was twice my size, at least. I didn’t hear what he muttered, but the chains around his ankles echoed off the walls and made me shudder.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked back up at the vent. No way could I jump that high and I wasn’t growing wings any time soon.

Fuck.

As the giant lumbered away, I opened the first unlocked door I came across. A body that looked like a cheap halloween prop fell at my feet, like it was just waiting for me. I screamed like a little bitch.

Goddamn, someone or something had to have heard that. I dove into the room and slammed the door behind me. Shit. That was loud too. Oh God, the room was pitch black and everything. And that godawful smell...

I switched to the nightvision and scanned through shelves upon shelves of severed heads. They were sorted so neatly, like the plate collections grandmas seem to horde in their retirement, only this smell was so much worse than an old folks home. I had to hold back retches as I moved forward. I didn’t want to make noise and risk becoming one of those heads. Then I turned a corner, and wouldn’t you know it? It got worse.

Like a pig on a spit was a dead man. Bigger, beefier, and a thousand times more formidable than me, but not even all his armor and muscle wasn’t enough to save him from being skewered and left to die. At least I thought so until he had the gall to not be quite as deceased as I thought.

“The variants...they got out…” He choked out. “You can’t fight them...you have to get the fuck out of this awful place…” He faded to the mercy of death before he could say anything else.

Didn’t need to tell me twice. Damn the fortune this story would make me. I’d rather go back to battlefield reporting than die in this hellhole.

I hightailed it out of the room, but the whole place was blocked off. Probably thanks to other idiots like me who thought walking in here wouldn’t kill them. Maybe, I could squeeze through these bookshelves…

“Little pig.” The voice was low and gruff, followed by a big, meaty hand yanking me out of the shelves. It was the same patient I saw down the hall and he was even stronger than he looked, holding me up by the neck like I weighed nothing, even as I kicked and thrashed in an attempt for freedom. I also finally saw his face--no nose, no lips, a skinned forehead.

What an ugly motherfucker. It was like someone tried to fuck start his head with a cheese grater.

Heh, cheese grater. That was pretty funny. I’ll have to write that down if I survive this fall.

#Miles Upshur #Outlast #fanfiction #writing

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