Speaker 1: From the journal of Private George Gall one hundred and
twelfth Regiment, US Army. These documents were stolen from a
secure vault in Fort Leavenworth Prison, Kansas City, Kansas, in
nineteen seventy four. It is November twelfth, twenty nineteen. At
the time of this posting, George Gall would be almost
one hundred years old. Now, the US Army has no
record of George Gall serving in the years in question.
We believe he is still being held in Fort Leavenworth Prison.
Stamped on the stolen file is Prisoner nine one two
two five five seven Top Secret. Filed twenty sixth June
nineteen fifty. Note to reader, I have transposed the Journal
entries manuscript to a digital word file. The original manuscript
is locked away. Journal Entry twenty four September nineteen forty nine.
We left Kansas in a plane two hours ago. It's
good to be out eleven Worth and breathing free air.
This plane is uncomfortable and cold. We're en route to Europe.
I heard one of the officers say Poland we are
a sorry looking lot of criminals. Everyone on this plane
has been sentenced to death, but the sentences have been
commuted if we agree to this mission. We don't know
what the mission is. I suppose we'll find out soon enough.
It's better than being hung or shot. Though I was
a demolition specialist before I killed that officer. I guess
they need someone to blow something up. Journal entry to
twenty nine September nineteen forty nine. We arrived yesterday at dark.
The town we flew into was big. I heard the
word strosen. There was a lot of traffic as we
left the city into the countryside in a deuce and
a half. We've been told not to ask questions and
not to associate with locals. The truck ride beat us
to death. Some roads are still not repaired from the war.
It took four hours to get here. I don't know
where we are. The place was abandoned by the Poles
years ago, maybe a plague. The Germans built concrete structures
underground in nineteen forty two. This place isn't even on
our maps. But here we are. The old German facility
in the little town are abandoned. We are the first
to arrive. We have Captain Decker, he's in charge of security,
Smith who's in charge of something, and Major Flynn he's
in charge of everything, whatever that might be. For the
time being, I have only spoken to Captain Decker. He
wouldn't tell me why we're here or what the mission is.
Fifteen men here. No one answers my questions. Journal entry,
three October nineteen forty nine. More men arrived the last
couple of days. We're close to eighty in total, criminal
soldiers and scientists. I don't know what's going on, but
apparently we're waiting for more men and supplies, and then
we go to work. Something feels off. Journal entry, nine
October nineteen forty nine. Today Major Flynn gave us a
heads up, not much detail. Seems like we're after something
the Germans left behind. We don't know what or where.
It's important to them, though so important. They burned the
whole city when we arrived. It's smoldering. Days later the
town had been abandoned, not much of a loss. I've
been speaking with some of the new guys, and most
of them are all sentenced to death. Everyone was sentenced
for different crimes, but we were all about to go
to the wall and be shot when we were offered
this mission. I was assigned to a squad earlier today
where a bunch of misfits and deviants. Every man here
is a criminal. Most are murderers. I've met a couple
of arsonists. The firebugs give me the creeps. Dutch was
named squad leader the High Nco among us. He knew
the job well enough, so no one said a word
killers being led by a killer. This should go real well.
Journal Entry, eleventh October nineteen forty nine. We finally went
on patrol to the abandoned German structure. It felt like
it was back in the war. The woods around the
place looked exactly like Belgium during the Battle of the Bulge.
The only difference is the weather. It was freezing back there.
It's not too bad here. We're armed for combat on
this little secret mission. Lots of boom booms and bang bangs.
We loaded up on as many rounds and grenades as
we could carry. Old habits die hard, especially when you've
been in a fight. I don't know what we're looking
for here. As we were leaving camp, I turned around
and gave it a good look. The barracks at the back,
the mess hall next to them, the officers quarters, and
all the shit we brought with us. The place had
grown in the two weeks since we are trenches surround
the town and the concrete structures. Me and Jenkins dropped
inside to check, but we found nothing interesting. The tunnels
were blown out and blocked, so we left. We did
a sweep of the town. Everything was burned. I walked
inside one of the houses that used to be and
I kicked a skeleton. Only thing was left was bones
and a rusty lugar next to a skull. What happened here?
Journal entry, twenty three October nineteen forty nine. Our squad
is overseen patrolling around the town for days. We wake up,
we have some chow, and then patrol the same trails
we were on yesterday. In the days before, we come
back at dusk and we get some chow and repeat
the process. We're not the only ones doing it, though.
I spoke with some men from another squad watching the
west flank. One of them told me that we're searching
for something the Nazis were trying to use for the war,
maybe a weapon. I didn't care. If I hadn't come along,
I'd be a dead man by now. I finally heard
Dutches's story today. He was the only survivor of a
plane crash on D Day. The Germans were looking for survivors,
so he hid under rubble and the bodies of his
buddies for three days. Our boys showed up and he
came out. I understand why it affected him mentally. Anyone
else would have killed themselves, but he survived it. I
don't think I could have done it. Last night I
overheard some doctors talking about something called Project Morphous. They
said that we're close to finding something we aren't supposed
to ask questions. But his days pass. I'm beginning to
wonder what exactly are we're looking for. Journal entry, twenty
three November nineteen forty nine. I haven't been on patrol
in weeks. My squad has become manual labor. We've been
digging day in and day out. We eat, sleep, and dig.
Two weeks ago Major Woodward gave the order to start digging.
We haven't stopped since. I wish they would call in
some heavy equipment. This would go a lot faster, but
it's the Army where it is. We're searching for the
right bunker. We found several structures, but when we get
close to clearing the dirt away, the structure collapses we
moved to a new site. They've ordered some of the
manual labor into town to begin excavating there. Maybe we'll
find what we're looking for. This is killing me. Journal
entry one, December nineteen forty nine. We found round it.
I guess it's the one the scientists have been looking for.
I heard a team in white lab coats went in.
They spent two days hauling stuff out. We weren't allowed
to observe earlier Today me and other demolition guys went
down the hole and placed explosives in the bunker. It
was close to a yard of concrete in the walls
and ceiling. Nothing well placed charges couldn't handle. The whole
valley roared with the explosion, and I must say that
after digging like crazy, blowing something up was great. Journal entry,
eighteen December nineteen forty nine. The whole town is slowly
becoming an experiment. We haven't seen any of the scientists
in weeks. They're all down in another bunker inside the town.
We've seen trucks loaded with machinery and mysterious boxes come
in and out. The genius has figured out that heavy
equipment will make this all go faster. We're a mile
away from the town. But when you lay on your
head on your bed, you can hear the machines. Digging
Journal entry twenty four December nineteen forty nine. It's Christmas
and snow's been falling. It's gotten deep outside. Now it's
like the bulls. We're not allowed to send or received letters.
So the major decided to throw a party for everybody.
We have some booze and we're having turkey later today
Journal entry too January nineteen fifty Last night, an earthquake
caught us sleeping. We jumped out of our bunks and
looked outside. Lights were coming from the town. A beam
made of colors like a rainbow, was swirling in the sky.
The light grew bright and blinded us. Then it was gone.
I couldn't see much for the rest of the night,
but my eyes are improving. We asked some of the
officers about those lights, and the answer we got was
what lights. Most of us were deemed paranoid or with
some mental disorder. We were all given meds each day.
None of us took them. I would find little pills
scattered all over made me laugh, but the officers never
said anything about it. What were those lights, Journal entry,
five January nineteen fifty. Four days ago, a patrol squad vanished.
We couldn't find them or make radio contact. They were
found late today. Some supply guys stumbled on them. They
were covered with snow and not obvious to anyone. Soon
the corpses were hauled into camp. I looked at them
and they were ripped to pieces. Officers said that was
a pack of wolves. I knew wolves didn't do that
to people. No predator rips bodies apart like that without
eating them. A sense of dread washed over the camp,
and morale dropped like a hammer. What had killed all
these men? Journal Entry, seventh January nineteen fifty There have
been more killings around the camp. Everyone is afraid to
go on patrol now. We don't know what the hell's
going on. Every night someone disappears, and every day we
find a new corpse somewhere. All of them look the same.
They're eyeless, gutless and tongueless, ripped to pieces. Some are decapitated.
The major has ordered every man to perimeter duty, night watches,
a rotation system. I was on watch every five days.
Now it's every other night. We've dug foxholes and we've
pulled out the big guns. Fifty cows were placed at
fifty yard intervals. We all carried double ammo on watch.
Nothing has approached. I hope it stays quiet. Journal entry,
eleven January nineteen fifty. Tonight, we saw it. We saw
the thing that's been killing our guys. It was nothing
made by God. It attacked a patrol that was about
to enter the wire. As soon as we saw it,
we opened fire. Hundreds of rounds were fired at this thing.
Someone had to have hit it. Every time I closed
my eyes, I still see the fire of the machine
gun lighting up that thing. It had long arms and
short legs, and it was hairless and had dark skin,
and the sound it made it was very strange. We
managed to pull two men away from the attack and
inside the wire. They're in pretty bad shape. One of
them is unconscious and the other was bitting on the
arm right now. He's delusional with fever, probably an infection
from that animal. He keeps saying over and over, he's coming,
He's coming. I couldn't sleep all night. At first light,
my squad left a search for the monster. We didn't
find it, but we found the trail of blood it left.
The blood was black like crude oil. What are we
doing here? Journal entry twelve January nineteen fifty. Another earthquake
woke us, and, like the last time, a beam of
light turned the night today for a second. I closed
my eyes before it blinded me again. It's good move, Davis.
The guy we rescued yesterday, he killed himself. He smashed
his head against the floor of the nursery. I didn't
know a human could kill himself that way, Nicholson, he's
the unconscious guy. Well he was gone. He had totally vanished.
Later we found him in the shower. He had cut
his own throat with a knife, and on the shower
wall in blood, he had written with his finger, He's coming.
I've been afraid before, but never like this. Journal entry
twenty seven January nineteen fifty. Things have gone from bad
to worse. No one patrols at night anymore. When the
sun goes down, we all jump into our foxholes and
load our rifles and freeze all night and pray nothing
comes for us. But the killing continues. We found two
missing men today. Something ripped out their hearts and took
their heads. Their weapons were scraps of twisted metal and
broken wood, covered with a thick red slime. No one
dares to sleep more than three hours a day. Something's
hiding there, and we want to be ready when it comes.
There's a lot of veterans of the war here. Some
thought in the bulge with me, and some fought in
the Pacific. We've all seen war, and we've faced death
and seen the horrors. But now we're afraid of something else.
You can feel it. Men who fought with me say
that we're back in the bulls, and I say that too.
The only difference is instead of fighting Nazis, we're fighting monsters.
Journal Entry, thirty January nineteen fifty. We kill one of
those things today. They tried to sneak inside the wire.
I was sleeping when the fifty cows woke me up,
and I rushed outside with my rifle. Then the firing ceased.
I saw the guys all staring at something, and I
walked for a closer look. I'm not sure what it was.
The guys fired a hundred bullets at it, but it
was still alive. It was twitching. I emptied the magazine
into it, but it still didn't die, and with a
sudden jerk. It launched at the man closest to it.
The monster swiped at the soldier and missed, but he
hit his rifle and cut it in half with his claws.
Someone showed up with a flamethrower. Hell, I didn't know
we even had flamethrowers. We backed up, and he covered
that thing with fire. The roar of the flames and
the screeches of that monster as it burned are noises
I will never forget. We got to figure out a
way to get out of here. God help us all.
Journal entry, six February nineteen fifty. Today they brought one
of the scientists back. He had been working in town
in one of the bunkers. I saw him as they
rushed him to the nursery, was missing an arm. Hours
later we heard him scream the same words others had
said before they killed themselves. He's coming, he said. I'm
not staying. To find out who he is, overheard some
of the guys planning to desert. Going with them is
another death sentence. Though if I get caught, where would
I go? If we got away? I'm thinking ahead for
the first time in my life. This place is a nightmare.
I don't know how I'm going to get out of here.
Journal entry, eight February nineteen fifty. Major Flynn captured half
the deserters three miles from camp. A few hours later,
he sentenced them to death. Everyone was forced to witness
their execution by firing squad. That could have been me
standing there. I was included in a patrol today to
find the other deserters. Didn't take long to find them.
We followed their tracks another two miles, and their mangled
corpses were laying close together in a clearing, a giant
red stain in the pristine white forest snow. When is
this going to end? Journal entry, twenty February nineteen fifty.
Yesterday forty more men showed up, their regular infantry, not
criminals like us. Their gung hoe to get into a fight.
But they don't realize that they've been sent into hell.
They found out when the Major sent them in squads
to patrol different areas around the town. I think the
strategy was if one squad gets taken out by the creature,
the other three would make it. Some made it back alive,
but most didn't. The soldiers who walked back were showing
signs of going mad. Like the others. They will soon
be dead too, by their own hands. And as days
go by, I wonder if God is watching us. I
don't think he is. Journal Entry, twenty two February nineteen fifty.
I'm losing my mind in this god forsaken place. Last
night I had a dream I was floating somewhere and
it was cold, dark and empty. I felt a hand
on my neck and a voice said, I'm coming for
you all. I woke up and I had a black
mark on my neck. It was like the black crude
type blood we found weeks before. It wouldn't wash off.
I went for some challenge. Saw that every soldier has
the same mark on his neck. I'm hearing the voice
in my head now. It's coming from the town, coming
from that old bunker. Journal Entry, Tree one April nineteen fifty.
Men are now being killed, one by one. I'm losing
my mind. The demons are roaming the perimeter, killing everyone
they can get their hands on. There's more than one.
We're beginning to lose it. I hear him getting closer
and closer, and I hear the same words, over and
over and over. I'm coming. Journal Entry, nine April nineteen fifty.
We found Barnaby dead on the bathroom floor. Today he
smashed his head against the wall. I still hear the voice.
Journal entry, twelve April nineteen fifty. There are fewer of
us each day. Captain Decker killed himself this morning. Dutch disappeared.
Last night Powers was in the nursery after something tore
his arm off. I'm losing track of the days. The
major disappeared last night. He went straight into that evil town.
Now there are only a few of us left. We're
running low on AMMO and food. God help us. He's coming.
Journal entry, fifteen April nineteen fifty. There are five of
us left. All the others have killed themselves or have
been killed by the monsters now roaming inside the perimeter.
I'm in hell and God has forsaken me, and I'm
going to die a terrible death. I have no will
to fight. It's hopeless. He's coming. Journal entry, eighteen April
nineteen fifty. He came today. Everything is going dark. I'm
about to die. Journal entry twenty four June nineteen fifty.
I think I survived. I don't know how I got
here or how long I've been here. This hospital is
bright and white soft sheets on soft beds. No one
is in the room with me. There's an animal smell
in the room. I've smelled it before. I'm not sure
where I can smell the nurses perfume in the hallway.
That's weird. I hear English spoken outside the room. Maybe
I'm back in the States. A nurse just peeked in
on me and smiled, he's awake, doctor, I heard her say. Later,
three officers entered my room with their assistance. There was
standing room only. They stared at me like looking at
an animal at the zoo. Do you know what you are?
As the senior officer, I'm alive, I said, But do
you know what happened? And what you are? What was
he talking about? I shut my mouth. That's always best
when the questions come from officers. A mirror was on
the night stand, and I raised my hand to reach it,
but restraints held my arm tight to the bed. I
hadn't noticed them where my hand should have been. A
bony gnarled, Oh God, that's not my hand, it's a
monster's hand. What the hell is this? And I struggle
with the restraints. An officer nodded at the nurse she
held the mirror in front of me. That's not me,
I said, that's not me. I was filled with rage,
and I growled at the humans, and I fought against
the restraints. The nurse ran to my side and injected me,
and all faded to black again. Final journal entry, twenty
five June nineteen fifty I'm back at Leavenworth, in a
cell in solitary. I hear no noises, I'm alone, and
I'm hungry.