Chapter 2: The Green-Stained Card

The Research Ward stretched before them like the ribcage of some massive beast, all exposed concrete and industrial piping that disappeared into shadows beyond their flashlight beams. The sweet smell Liam had noticed grew stronger with each step, cloying and organic in a way that made his stomach turn.

"Jesus," Vince whispered, his camera capturing the stark transformation from the bunker's homey residential area to this utilitarian nightmare. "It's like they didn't want anyone to feel comfortable down here."

Mike played his flashlight across the walls, illuminating stenciled warnings and directional arrows that had faded to barely legible ghosts. "This is where the real work happened. Whatever they were doing in the residential area was just... cover."

Evan had taken point, his athletic frame moving with the confident swagger that had made him captain of the lacrosse team. Even here, in this place that reeked of government secrets and decades-old fear, he strutted like he owned the corridor. "About time we found something interesting. I was getting tired of playing house in that retro nightmare."

But Liam noticed the way Evan's voice echoed differently here, swallowed by the concrete in a way that made their words sound small and insignificant. He documented this in his journal, along with the temperature drop—at least ten degrees colder than the residential area—and the way the air seemed to move differently, as if the ventilation system here operated on different principles.

They passed door after door, each one sealed with electronic locks that had long since lost power. Through reinforced windows, they glimpsed laboratories filled with equipment that looked decades ahead of what should have existed in the 1960s. Centrifuges, electron microscopes, and devices whose purpose Liam couldn't even begin to guess.

"Look at this," Mike said, stopping at a door marked "BIOLOGICAL CONTAINMENT - LEVEL 3." The window was darker than the others, the glass tinted almost black. "I can barely see anything inside."

Vince moved closer with his camera, the LED light cutting through the darkness beyond the glass. "There's something in there. Equipment, I think. And..." He squinted, adjusting the focus. "Are those cages?"

The word hung in the air like a curse. They all pressed against the window, their combined flashlight beams revealing the skeletal remains of what had once been a sophisticated laboratory. Overturned tables, shattered glass, and yes—rows of empty cages that had once held something living.

"Test subjects," Liam said quietly, his historian's mind already filling in the horrifying blanks. "They weren't just doing research down here. They were experimenting on living things."

"What kind of experiments?" Vince asked, though his voice suggested he didn't really want to know.

Before anyone could answer, they heard it—a sound that made them all freeze. From somewhere deeper in the Research Ward came a rhythmic tapping, like Morse code or a heartbeat amplified through metal.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

"What the hell is that?" Evan demanded, his bravado cracking slightly.

Mike was already moving toward the sound, his engineer's mind unable to resist a mechanical puzzle. "Could be a loose pipe. Or maybe some kind of automated system that's still running."

But Liam felt that familiar chill in his stomach, the same instinct that had made him hesitate at the threshold of the Research Ward. "Maybe we should go back. Document what we've found, make a plan—"

"Are you kidding me?" Evan's voice rose to just below a shout. "We've been trapped in that museum for a week, and the first time we find something interesting, you want to retreat? What are you, twelve?"

The tapping stopped abruptly, plunging them into a silence that felt somehow hostile. They stood motionless, listening to the sound of their own breathing and the distant hum of machinery that seemed to come from the walls themselves.

Then Evan laughed, the sound harsh and echoing. "Great. Now we're all jumping at shadows. Come on, let's see what's making that noise."

They moved deeper into the ward, past more sealed laboratories and storage rooms. The corridors here formed a maze, branching off in directions that seemed designed to confuse rather than guide. But the tapping resumed, drawing them forward like a mechanical siren song.

The sound led them to a wider corridor lined with doors marked with biohazard symbols and warnings in multiple languages. Here, the sweet smell was stronger, almost overwhelming. Vince gagged behind his camera, and even Mike looked pale in the harsh LED light.

"This is it," Mike said, stopping at a door where the tapping seemed loudest. "Whatever's making that sound, it's in there."

The door was different from the others—heavier, with multiple locking mechanisms and a window of what looked like reinforced glass. But unlike the other secured areas they'd encountered, this one showed signs of forced entry. The electronic lock had been smashed, and scratch marks scored the metal around the handle.

"Someone got in here," Liam observed, running his finger along the gouges in the steel. "Recently."

Evan pushed past him, examining the damage with the eye of someone who'd spent his share of time breaking into places he shouldn't. "Not someone. Something. Look at these marks—they're too deep, too wide. And they're on the inside of the door."

The implications hit them all at once. Something had been locked in this room, and it had clawed its way out.

"Maybe we should—" Vince started.

"No." Evan's voice was firm, almost desperate. "We're not running away again. We're going to find out what happened here, and we're going to find a way out of this place."

He grabbed the handle and pulled. The door swung open with a groan that seemed to echo from the depths of the earth itself.

The room beyond was chaos. Laboratory equipment lay scattered and broken, as if a hurricane had torn through the space. Chemical stains discolored the walls in patterns that looked disturbingly organic. And in the center of it all, partially hidden beneath an overturned table, was a small electronic device that pulsed with a faint green light.

"Keycard reader," Mike said, his voice tight with excitement. "Still functional."

But there was no keycard in sight. They searched the wreckage systematically, Vince filming everything while Liam documented their findings. The laboratory had clearly been some kind of biological research facility, with equipment designed for studying microscopic organisms. Microscopes, culture dishes, and what looked like sophisticated filtration systems lay broken and abandoned.

"There," Evan said suddenly, pointing to a section of wall where a small access panel hung open. "I can see something inside."

The panel was just large enough for a hand to reach through, but it was positioned at an awkward angle behind a fallen cabinet. The green glow from the keycard reader cast sickly shadows that made it difficult to see clearly.

"I can't reach it," Mike said, stretching his arm toward the opening. "My shoulders are too wide."

Vince tried next, but his trembling hands couldn't quite grasp whatever was inside. That left Evan, who rolled up his sleeves with characteristic confidence.

"Stand back," he said. "Let me show you how it's done."

Liam wanted to protest, wanted to suggest they find another way. But the words died in his throat as Evan thrust his hand into the opening with characteristic recklessness.

"Got it," Evan said, his voice strained. "It's some kind of card, but it's stuck on something sharp."

He pulled harder, and they heard the sound of tearing metal. Then Evan cried out—not in triumph, but in pain.

"Shit! Something cut me!"

He yanked his hand back, and they all saw the blood. A deep gash ran across his palm, dark and already flowing freely. But it wasn't just the wound that made them stare—it was the keycard clutched in his bloody fist.

The card was standard government issue, but it was stained with the same sickly green that had emanated from the reader. And where Evan's blood had mixed with the green substance, the colors seemed to swirl and move, as if alive.

"Jesus, Evan," Mike said, already reaching for the first aid kit from his backpack. "How bad is it?"

But Evan was staring at the card, his face flushed with victory despite the pain. "It's fine. Just a scratch. And look what I found—our ticket to the rest of this place."

He held up the keycard, blood still dripping from his palm onto the concrete floor. The green stain seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat, and for just a moment, Liam thought he saw something move beneath the surface of the card—something that definitely wasn't blood.

"We should clean that wound," Liam said, his voice tight with concern. "And we should be careful with that card. We don't know what that green stuff is."

Evan laughed, but there was something different about the sound—something that didn't quite match the cocky athlete they'd known for three years. "Relax, college boy. It's probably just some kind of marking dye. Nothing a little soap and water won't fix."

But as they made their way back through the Research Ward, Liam couldn't shake the feeling that they'd crossed a line. The residential area had been a prison, but it had been a safe prison. Now they were venturing into places that had been sealed for good reason.

And as they walked, he noticed that the blood from Evan's wound wasn't clotting the way it should. Instead, it continued to flow, darker and thicker than normal, leaving a trail of droplets that seemed to glisten with their own internal light.

Behind them, in the abandoned laboratory, the keycard reader pulsed once more before going dark. But in the walls around it, something stirred—something that had been waiting forty years for fresh blood to wake it from its slumber.

The hunt was about to begin.