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- [00:02]
Dean Smythe
Hey everyone, it's the Midnight Mystery here. Just popping in to check if you've ever thought. Wow. I love this show but these ads are slowly destroying my will to live. Well, we have some good news. The Midnight Mystery has officially started a Patreon. By joining, you'll get early access to ad free episodes, exclusive miniseries and behind the scenes extras. Plus you'll be supporting independent creatives who pour everything they've got into making these stories. Every bit of support helps us keep the lights on, the mics recording and the weirdness flowing. The link to the Patreon is in the description below. So thank you so much for being here. We seriously couldn't do this without you. Let's get into the episode.
- [00:53]
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- [01:22]
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- [02:12]
Joanna Coles
I'm Joanna Coles and this is the Daily Beast podcast where we say the quiet part out loud three times a week. I pull back the curtain on the scandals, the spin and the sheer madness that we're living through. And we ask the questions others are too afraid to pose. So when Trump melts down again, I call the author Michael Wolff to break it down. When the DC Circus rolls into town, I get the unvarnished truth from Anthony Scaramucci and When the Epstein files resurface, Tina Brown joins with the memory of when he confronted her. No fluff, no flattery, just fearless conversation every Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday. Find the Daily Beast podcast wherever you get your audio drama. I mean, sorry, wherever you get your news.
- [03:00]
Dean Smythe
Hey everyone, it's Dean from the Minute Mystery and I've got a little surprise for you. What you're about to hear is an episode from the Bunker Files, a bonus series set in the bunker 8 universe that explores the other bunkers out there, the ones you've only heard hints about in the main show. I wanted to share this episode with everyone and if you enjoy it, consider joining the Patreon and hear the rest and get a taste of what we've been creating behind the scenes. There's also more waiting for you on Patreon, along with early access to Bunker eight episodes, behind the scenes updates and other exclusives like Discord Access. It's also the best way to keep expanding the Bunker 8 universe and support independent creatives. You can check out the Patreon in the description below. Alright, enough of me. Let's get into it.
- [04:00]
Barry Halden
All right. Journal log, day one. Barry Halden, first rotation at Bunker four. I guess I am supposed to do one of these every day or every shift or something. They weren't super clear about it, just said to keep a running log. So here we go. Got in. A few hours ago, they had me take this weird underground train. There were no signs, no announcements, no one else on board. Just me sitting in this freezing cold metal box listening to it rattle through miles of time. Tunnel, no windows, no lights. I felt like I was being buried alive. Honestly, by the time it stopped, I had no idea where I was. When the doors opened, there was nothing. Just this long hallway and a single steel door at the end. So swipe my badge. Open right up. No one there. Not even a welcome message. Just silence. The place is bigger than I expected. It looks old, like Cold War era old. Rusted pipes, buzzing lights, walls that haven't been repainted in decades. It's all still working, but it doesn't feel lived in. It's like everyone left years ago and they just keep sending new people down here to keep the lights on. Anyway, eventually I found the observation deck. And yeah, it's kind of insane. There's this massive glass wall. Not a screen or anything, just a giant window that looks out over the rainforest. I mean, it's beautiful, genuinely. Rain's coming down, non stop. Thick mist curling around the tops of the trees. Canopy goes on Forever. You can't even see the ground. Just layers and layers of green all the way to the horizon. It looks untouched, like something out of a nature dock or a dream. But it also. I don't know, it doesn't feel peaceful. It's. It's too quiet. There's no wind, no birds, no animal sounds. Nothing's moving out there. It's like the whole forest is holding its breath. And standing here looking at it, this wall of glass between me and whatever that place is, it kind of feels like it's watching me back. Like I'm not supposed to be here. Like I opened a door I shouldn't have. Anyway, job wise, it's pretty straightforward. I've got 16 cameras to monitor. They're all placed in different parts of the forest. Up in the trees long, the perimeter, one right in the center, focused on this thing they call the stone anchor point. I don't know. They didn't really explain why. It's just said to watch it and report any changes. If anything happens, like movement, shifts in the terrain, temperature spikes, I log it and send it straight to Bunker Zero. And the. The weirdest part is how routine. They made it sound like I'm just some guy pulling a night shift at a power station. But this place, this forest, it wasn't even on maps 50 years ago. No one talks about it. Hell, no one even acknowledges it unless they're working on the project. I don't know how you keep something like this secret for that long. But, yeah, I'm here now. Watching logging. Doing my job. It's surreal. Beautiful, I guess. But it doesn't feel like it wants to be seen. Like I shouldn't be watching it. Okay. Three months of this. Alone. I got this. Okay? End Logistics journal log, day 26. Barry Halden. Still here, still alone. Starting to get used to the routine now. Cameras are behaving, mostly. We've got the feeds memorized at this point. Zone 4 always gets fogged out by midday. Zone 9's motion sensors are way too sensitive. They go off whenever a leaf twitches in Zone 16. That's the one locked on the stone. So the stone. The stone. It pulsed last night. Wasn't subtle either. Whole forest lit up for a few seconds. Not light exactly, more like color, but wrong. Like every part of the spectrum was out of light. It wasn't even bright, it was just there. Like the soft flickering across the trees, like. Like someone was shining a flashlight through oil. I don't even know how to describe it. The colors didn't make Sense cameras. All glitched out when it happened. Static across every single feed. The clock in the control room froze at 3:11am and stayed there for almost five minutes. I know that sounds crazy, but I watched it. I was wide awake. Five real minutes of the system insisting it was still 3:11 when the feeds came back on. Everything looked the same. Except nothing was moving. No animals, no wind. Even the mist was gone. Like, I don't know, the whole forest just shut down for a while. And then this morning, I found something outside the glass. A lizard. At least I think it was a lizard, except it had mandibles, like a beetle. Like big, hard, serrated ones. Still had the scales and everything. But the head looked completely wrong. Like. Like two different animals glued together. I logged it, took photos. They'll probably pretend it's a camera artifact or misidentification or something. That's what they usually do. What else? Oh, I have been dreaming about walking through the forest. Not in a scary way. More like I'm supposed to be there barefoot. Always barefoot. And the ground is warm, even though it's raining. And there's this humming in the canopy, like a voice, but it's too far away to make it out. Not sure if it's just cabin fever or what, but I've started noticing this smell everywhere. Like damp soil. Not moldy, not gross. Just wet earth, like after it rains. But I smell it. Even in the sealed rooms. Even when I wake up. I check the air filtrations just twice. Everything looks fine. But I don't know, I still smell it constantly. Like it's starting to make me feel like I've been outside when I haven't. Not even once. I keep hearing things in the camera feeds, too. When I switch between channels, there's this. Breathing. Not every time. Just enough to notice. It's not static. It's steady. And it's not mine. It's not human. Anyway. I logged the pulse and filed everything through to Bunker Zero. No reply, as usual. It's. It's. It's probably nothing. You know, that's. That's what I keep telling myself. Probably just some weird optical thing with the rain and. And the lights and the glass. Maybe the camera's glitched for other reasons. Maybe lizard was a fluke. Maybe all of this is. But I don't think it is. End log.
- [12:26]
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- [13:00]
Barry Halden
Journal log day 49 Barry Holden I wasn't planning to do another one of these tonight, but. But something weird happened and I need to get it down before I convince myself it did. Earlier today, during a routine sweep, I was. I was watching camera. Camera 12. Yeah, that's the one with the. With the. The high angle ones aimed at the upper canopy near the northwest quadrant. Matter anyway? Nothing usual at first. Just the same wall of leaves and mist I've been staring at for weeks. But then I saw something. Just standing there. Up in the trees. A figure. Tall. Like, way too tall. Thin. It's human shaped, but not quite. The proportions were just a little off. Arms too long. Legs too still. It wasn't moving. Just standing there, watching the camera. Not the forest. The camera. It stayed there for maybe 15 seconds. Oh, I don't even remember breathing while I watched it. And then the feet blinked. Just once. Half a second of static when the picture came back was gone. So I figure maybe I imagined it. So I went back, checked the recording. Nothing. I went frame by frame. There's no figure. Just trees. No glitch either. Like it. Like it edited itself out. I've watched it four times now. There's nothing there. But I know what I saw. I saw something. So since then, I've noticed the night lights flicker every time the stone pulses. I thought I was imagining that too, but I started keeping track. The lights dim just a little, then snap back. It's only during the pulses. Like the building holds its breath, too. And then tonight, I found something on the floor in the observation room. It was a tooth. Not mine. Not human either. Way too long. Curved at the end like a hook. It was just sitting there on the metal flooring under the console. Clean. No blood. No note. Just. There. I bagged it and logged it. But honestly, I didn't want to touch it. Holding it felt wrong. Like it. Like it still had heat in it. And on top of of all that, I've developed this rash. Both arms, right under the skin. Started as a couple of small red patches. Now it looks more like freckles. Dark greenish brown. Sort of moss colored. And it itches like hell. Especially when I'm near the observation window. And sometimes I swear I can feel it Pulsing. Not like pain, more like it's got a rhythm. Anyway, I've been covering it with long sleeves so I don't have to look at it. Oh, also, apparently, I've started talking in my sleep. I wouldn't know, obviously, but I record ambient noises sometimes just to, I don't know, feel less alone in here. And when I played one of them back this morning, I heard myself whispering. It's quiet, but I can make out some of it. I said I see it now. Then a pause. Then it sees me, too. I don't remember dreaming it. I don't remember saying it. I don't even remember falling asleep. I don't know what's happening, but it is getting harder to explain it away. End log. Journal log, day 71. Barry Halton. I almost didn't record this one. Figure, what's the point anymore? But I don't know. I guess I still need to talk, even if nobody's listening. Even if this ends up buried in some archive no one ever opens. I noticed roots in the ventilation system today. Actual roots. Not mold, not dust. Buildup roots. Some of them were growing right through the grates in the hallway. They. It looked normal at first. Thin, branching, kind of pale. But if you get close, there's this faint shimmer across them, like metal. Not polished, but alive, maybe. Organic and mechanical, fused together like wires that grew on their own. I don't know. I didn't touch him. I don't think I should. Later, I was in the observation room when a bird hit the glass. Hard. Snapped its neck. Instantly. I went out to log it, assuming it was some jungle species I had never seen before. But when I turned it over, its insides weren't right. No organs, just shards. Perfect, clear crystal where the guts should have been. Wings were still feathered. It still had eyes. But whatever was inside of it wasn't biology. It was beautiful. But completely wrong. I've stopped eating. I think not. Not on purpose. I just don't feel hungry anymore. Food smells weird. Processed. Dry. Every time I look at the ration bags, I feel like I'm trying to eat plastic. But the sunlight, when it comes through the clouds and hits the observation window, I can feel it soak into my skin, like it batters more now. I don't even know how to explain that. It's not warmth. It's something deeper, like I need it. Also. Oh, God. My fingernails, they've gone clear. Yeah, not white. Transparent. I can see the tips of my fingers underneath them. Oh, and my blood, too. It's God. It's not red anymore. It's this deep, greenish black, like wet moss or motor oil. I break my thumb yesterday, you know, just to check. I swear it smelled like dirt. Not metallic, like. Like soil. So I started digging through the old terminal logs. Found some files left behind by someone stationed here years ago. Most were wiped, but one folder had audio transcripts, and the last one wasn't even typed. It was just scratched into the wall behind the observation chair. And it said, don't look at the colors. They rearrange you. Oh, God. I haven't stopped thinking about that. I don't. I don't think this place wants to hurt me. I don't. I don't think the forest is hostile, not like we thought. But it's not. It's not trying to kill me. It doesn't need to. Oh, God. I think. I think it wants to understand me by. By making me part of itself. I think it's. I think it's already started. God. Okay. End log, journal log, day 92. Bear, Barry Halden. This will be my last one. The retrieval shuttle just arrived early, actually. I heard the pressure clamp seal outside the main bay. Never thought I'd be so glad to hear a mechanical noise again. I've packed up what little I brought. Not that much to take. Some files, a few personal things. I left most of the logs on the internal drive. If they ask me for a summary, I'll just tell them it was quiet. Uneventful. Cameras stable. No major anomalies. I won't mention the roots or the bird or the stone. And definitely not the reflection. That's the part that's bothering me. My reflection. It's not right anymore. It still moves When I move. It still copies me like it should, but it's wrong around the edges. The sky. Skin's too smooth, but not in a clean way. Almost glossy. I stood in front of the mirror yesterday with the lights off and watched the way my skin caught the light from the hallway. It looked like bark. Like tree bark. Thin and stretched and alive. My pupils aren't round anymore, either. I noticed that two days ago. They've gone vertical, like a cat's or something else. So I've been wearing sunglasses to hide them, just in case. If they scan me when I get back. If there's a blood test or a biometric sweep. I'm not sure I'll pass. So I'm planning to keep quiet. Stay normal. Head down, eyes forward. Just another finished rotation. Another completed mission. I've done everything they ask. I watched the feeds I took, the logs. I didn't go outside even when it asked me to. I think that's why they're letting me go. The forest, I mean. I don't think it wants to keep me here. Not physically. It just wants to go with me. Like I'm some kind of vessel now. It's been whispering to me lately. Soft, Faint, almost kind. There's a name. It keeps repeating over and over. Sometimes when I'm drifting off. Sometimes when I'm standing in the dark, just listening. It doesn't sound like English, not really. But it feels like mine. Like it was always mine. And I think that's who I am now. Or who I'm becoming, anyway. Time to go. End log.
- [28:45]
Reporting Agent
All right, post operation log retrieval run for civilian technician Barry Halden, 92 days on rotation at bunker four. We made contact at 0400, having completed his rotation. The subject was already outside the airlock waiting for pickup.
- [29:07]
Barry Halden
Calm.
- [29:09]
Reporting Agent
First visual assessment. Not human. Not anymore. Skin was textured, rough, like bark. You could see what looked like roots under the surface, moving slightly. Pupils vertical, irises green. Gold nails completely clear. And when one of the medics nicked him for a sample, his blood came out thick and dark. Not red. More like soil mixed with oil. He didn't resist. Spoke soft, friendly, almost. But every few seconds, his eyes drifted past us, fixated on the tree line. He kept talking in this language. Didn't match anything in the database. Closest I can describe it. Like syllables layered over each other. Not human vocal patterns. While we were securing gear, Haldin stepped toward Officer Patel. Slow, deliberate. Reached out with his hand like he wanted skin to skin contact. I gave the order to sedate. Two darts dropped him instantly. We locked him in a sealed containment pod for transport back to medical level four. Quarantine protocols are in effect. My recommendation? No more 90 day rotations, 30 max. And maybe. Maybe no more sending civilians here at all. This forest, it changes you. And I don't mean psychologically. End log.
- [30:55]
Dean Smythe
You've been listening to the Bunker Files, an exclusive series for the Midnight Mystery Patreon. This series is an independent production by the Midnight Mystery. It was written by Dean Smythe and starring Chris Head as Barry Holden and Dylan Brown as the reporting agent. If you'd like to hear more episodes from the Bunker Files and support independent creatives, then check out the Midnight Mystery Patreon link is in the description below.
- [31:30]
Barry Halden
Now you can fly anywhere in the.
- [31:33]
Reporting Agent
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- [31:36]
Barry Halden
Book a flight today to London, Paris, Madrid, or anywhere else. You want to go and pay a lot of less guaranteed, call the International Travel Department right now at Low Cost Airlines, 8002-1551-4180-0215-5141. That's 800-215-5141.
- [32:04]
Dean Smythe
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- [32:53]
Barry Halden
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