Below you will find a The Plum Island Horror short story written by David Spangler. Please note that this is a work of fiction and not an example of gameplay. Enjoy! -Rachel

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PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is the second excerpt from David Spangler’s explosive exposé, Beware the Shade: Where Horrors Hide in the Daylight, currently under a government restraining order forbidding its publication for containing “material damaging to national security.” We are litigating this action and fully expect victory and vindication under the free speech provisions of our Constitution. In the meantime, enough eyewitness accounts of the events of October 25-27 have surfaced to justify our publishing the following excerpts from Mr. Spangler’s book. They add to the rising chorus demanding a full and transparent investigation of the unimaginable and unmitigated disasters that befell the unsuspecting citizens of Plum Island and the town of Greenport.

THE PERIL OF P.I.R.L

We likely shall never know exactly what went into creating the toxic stew that overtook P.I.R.L., the Plum Island Research Laboratory, and unleashed the Horrors that ravaged the terrified citizens of Plum Island. Repeated requests to the current Administration under the Freedom of Information Act for lists of the exotic chemicals and biologics at use there, not to mention what they were being used for, have been turned down using the excuse of “national security.” Time has proven over and over again that this is the blanket used by culpable governments to hide their mistakes, especially those that cost lives and property. Eventually, time wears down the fabric of such coverings and the truth is revealed. Such, I’m sure, will be the case in this instance as well, even if that unveiling is years to come.

However, the veil around the administration of P.I.R.L itself is already fraying, enough to let us see what led up to the tragedies that unfolded. Here is a verbatim transcript of an interview I did on October 25th with Kevin Blart. Blart is—rather, was—a P.I.R.L. security guard. I met him at the Oceanside Industrial Park, where I had fled after witnessing the demise of Plum Island SWAT chief Arnold Stallone and his crew at the hands of a nightmarish Murder of Horrors. You can hear the actual recording of the interview at the website of GMTruthtellers.org. There is no mistaking the sound of fear, desperation, and even anger in his voice. In mine, too, for that matter.

Mr. Blart ran up to me as I came into the parking lot. His uniform was torn and dirty, an empty holster on his belt, his service revolver having been lost. Although we knew each other slightly, having shared a beer once or twice at one of the local pubs, I think the reason he accosted me was that he simply had to talk to someone. Perhaps the fact that my appearance was equally disheveled after my run through the hills led him to feel I would give him a sympathetic ear.

He was right.

BLART: Spangler, Spangler, thank God! It’s you!

SPANGLER: Kevin! My God! What’s happening? I just saw Commander Stallone and a SWAT team get wiped out by monsters!

BLART: Omigod! No! It’s her fault! All her fault!

SPANGLER: Who, Kevin?

BLART: Winfrey! She’s unleashed hell on us, for sure!

SPANGLER: Winfrey? You mean, Martha Winfrey, the CEO of P.I.R.L.?

BLART: The same! She’s no good!

SPANGLER: Kevin, you’re not making sense. What did Winfrey do? What’s happening?

BLART [thrusting a piece of paper at me]: Here! Take this. You’re a private investigator. You’ll know what to do with this. It’s evidence that she caused this. I want you to have it….in case…in case something happens to me…

SPANGLER [taking the paper and thrusting it in his pocket]: What is this, Kevin? What….

BLART [gripping my arm]: Listen! Hear that? Those are screams. [High pitched screams in the background.] They’re coming.

SPANGLER: Who’s coming?

BLART: Monsters! Nightmares! Creatures! Demons! My…my co-workers…my friends, goddamnit… Good people! They didn’t deserve…what happened to them, what changed them! It’s her fault! That cursed Winfrey!

SPANGLER: Kevin! Slow down. You’re not making sense….

DR. IRWIN McCOY [calling from a distance] Blart! Kevin Blart! I need you!

BLART: Look, it’s Dr. McCoy. He’s calling. He’ll know what to do. [Pushing at me] Get out of here, Spangler! Run for your life! Read that paper. Let people know. I’ve got to run….McCoy needs me…..

At this point, Kevin Blart ran off to join Dr. Irwin McCoy, one of P.I.R.L.’s top research scientists. I thought for a moment of joining him and interrogating McCoy about the disaster that was obviously unfolding, but I hesitated. I admit Blart’s fear and ramblings about Martha Winfrey had unnerved me. Then, it was too late. When Blart joined McCoy, the two of them took off running towards the Inca Forest to the north of us. That’s where the screaming was coming from. In the distance, I could see strange unnatural shapes circling in the air above the trees, occasionally spiraling down, a predator seeking prey.

I never saw McCoy or Blart again. I think they died in the forest, but while torn and shredded bodies were later discovered there, none were identifiable as the doctor or the security guard.

I turned and ran south towards P.I.R.L West, a large block of administrative office buildings associated with the laboratory complex at the north end of the island. I thought someone there would surely know what was happening and could give me information. In the urgency of the moment—no, call it panic, for that’s what it was—I confess I totally forgot the paper that Kevin Blart had thrust upon me and which I had jammed into my pocket.

As I ran, I thought about what Blart had said about Winfrey. Martha Winfrey was not only the CEO of Plum Island Research Laboratory, she was a major figure in the life of the island. She was a reliable contributor to worthy causes on Plum Island, a sponsor of cultural events, and by all accounts a considerate and conscientious executive and an able leader. Now, of course, she is generally regarded as a villain, a mass-murderer, her name practically synonymous with uncaring evil. But at the time Super Storm Nancy struck, she was universally respected and known on Plum Island as “Mrs. Wonderful.”

What changed to turn her into the despised figure she is?

The advent of the Horrors, of course. But the immediate cause of the Horrors was the damage wrought at the laboratories by the hurricane. One can’t fault Winfrey for that. She didn’t control the weather.

The answer partly lies in the paper that Kevin Blart thrust at me and which I read later. It’s an email sent a couple of hours before Nancy struck the island and distributed to all the security personnel. I reproduce it below:

TO: August Drake, Head of Security, Main Laboratory Complex, P.I.R.L.

FROM: Martha Winfrey, CEO

SUBJECT: Evacuation of Laboratory Personnel

August, this is to direct you NOT to evacuate any of the personnel at the laboratory in the face of Hurricane Nancy. We’re so close, we can’t afford to lose the time. Besides, the facility is built to withstand up to a Category 5 hurricane, and I have every confidence in the building and thus in the safety of the personnel within it. Chances are you and they will be in the safest place on the island once Nancy strikes. Everyone is needed there right now. The work that is being done, especially in Levels 3-6 under Dr. Stevenson, is at a critical stage and cannot be interrupted. Breakthrough immanent. As you know, we have some dangerous inmates on site. An evacuation could provide an opportunity to escape. For security’s sake, please ensure that all outer doors are sealed. Pass this directive to all your team. Good luck. I’ll see you after the storm passes.

Martha Winfrey

It is clear in hindsight that had Winfrey not sent this email and had the facility been evacuated, there would have been no personnel to be affected by whatever was released by the storm’s damage. The Horrors, in all likelihood, would not have come into existence, and the ensuing apocalyptic catastrophe would not have occurred.

In all fairness, Martha Winfrey had every reason to believe the structures of the “Pearl” laboratory would survive the hurricane’s impact. But Nancy was no ordinary hurricane, and the structural integrity of the laboratory may well have been overstated. We shall never really know. All that is known is that somewhere, somehow, the storm breached the walls and caused a spreading series of explosions that in turn created a devil’s brew of chemicals, radiation, and biologics, as containment vessels were ruptured and walls were destroyed. What we do know is that the personnel locked in the building were violently and murderously transformed, with only a very few survivors, such as Kevin Blart, left to escape ahead of the rampage of Horrors that soon followed.

As I say, Winfrey could be accused of poor judgement based on faulty information. But there were two other factors that turned her from Mrs. Wonderful into an evil mastermind worthy of a superhero flick. The first was the reference in the email to “dangerous inmates.” Who were they? Why were they there? Were they being experimented upon? Did they try to break free and thus cause some of the damage that led to the creation of the Horrors? We’ll likely never know, but the public imagination has seized upon that sentence to build lurid images of human experimentation.

The other factor is Mrs. Winfrey’s own heritage. She was the daughter of Ignacious Winfrey, a world-famous biochemist and geneticist whose specialty lay in working with mutagens and the capacity of cells to regenerate themselves. Before he died some years ago, he claimed to be looking for ways of healing wounds and regenerating damaged nerve tissue, but many feel that his real mission was to develop mutated human supersoldiers who could regenerate lost tissue and limbs and heal wounds, making them practically invulnerable. Was that what The Pearl was secretly working on? Did the Horrors emerge from corrupted vats of chemicals designed to create exactly such supersoldiers? As far as the public is concerned, despite all official denials, this is exactly what happened, and Martha Winfrey was the evil implementer of her father’s legacy within the secret levels 3-6.

I saw Martha Winfrey that day. As I ran south towards the P.I.R.L West headquarters, a black sedan passed me going in the same direction, coming, I realized, from the heliport at the Industrial Park. As I reached the parking lot of Pearl HQ West, I saw Winfrey climb out of the car. She was dressed in black cargo pants tucked into equally black hiking boots, and a black rain jacket, its hood thrown back, her black hair blowing in the wind. For a moment, she made me think of Black Widow in the Marvel movies. Then, out from the building, came Dr. Bones Corey. Corey was a man in his late sixties or early seventies, with thick, white hair and wearing a white lab coat. I knew vaguely that he had been an associate of Winfrey’s father and was a trouble-shooter of some sort. As the wind blew in my direction, I caught snippets of their conversation.

WINFREY: How bad is it? I can’t raise anyone at the lab.

COREY: The lab is gone. It’s very bad. Something has been created….

WINFREY: Something?

COREY: Not what we expected. More dangerous. Much more….

WINFREY: Take me to see.

At this point, they got back in Winfrey’s car and passed me again, this time heading north. Neither was ever seen again.

There is a picture, taken by an unknown photographer who bravely paused midflight to take a snapshot of the Murder of Horrors that was pursuing him and a group of panicked civilians. None of them survived, but his camera was later found, and its film developed. This picture has certainly become famous around the world and earned the photographer a posthumous Pulitzer. It’s one of the best images we have of what was unleashed on humanity that October day. It still sends shivers up my spine just looking at it now.

If you look closely, you can see that the thing at the lower left front of the Murder is wearing black cargo trousers tucked into black hiking boots, with a torn but still recognizable black jacket, its hood thrown back. Much of the face is eaten away, and there’s not much hair left, but what there is, is black….and blowing in the wind.

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Previous Article from David Spangler:

The Plum Island Horror: First Encounters