I’m sure almost all of you have heard about the Montauk Project. If not here’s a briefer: formed way back in the 80s, the Project is/was a black operation entirely focused on developing and implementing psychological combat techniques as well as other “exotic” experimentation. Think time travel, telekinesis, psychic abilities, cloning, paranormal and supernatural events, cryptids, immortality, alien life, non-human technology, dimensional portals, the works. Some say that the Project is the successor of the Philadelphia Experiment and they’re not wrong. The crazier the phenomena, the more likely it is/was to be studied. Initially the Project only took place at Camp Hero, but eventually it was split into multiple branches and the main facility moved about 18 miles to the northwest of Montauk Point, on Plum Island.

“Officially”, the Project is said to have never existed at all and “unofficially” it’s said to have ended, but neither are true. How do I know that? Because I worked there until just days ago. Now, there’s a lot I can say about what I think, or thought, the Project was and there’s a lot I can tell you about the things I saw, but I don’t have much time and I guess that’s the best place to start.

I was stationed at the main facility on—well, actually underneath—Plum Island. At this facility the one thing they were most eager to master was time. And there’s a reason for this. A long time ago, or so it’s told, there was a not so tiny “accident” at the facility over at Camp Hero. It involved one of the original overseers of the Montauk Project who oversaw the study of time. He had created an experiment that utilized reverse-engineered “found technology”. The technology ended up working, but not in a way they had previously calculated and the results were…problematic. What happened to the overseer and his team changed the way the entirety of the Project operated. Restrictions were implemented, and the experiments separated. And yet, despite this, the Project was still not shut down. Instead, it was decided that the technology would simply be moved to a more secure location and thus the new main facility at Plum Island was born.

I’ve heard many things about the technology used in “the accident”. That is was recovered from Roswell, or found it in the ocean, or melted it out of ancient polar ice. I’ve heard it looks like a portal, or a doorway, or a gate. One person told me it’s basically one big rock with a human sized hole in the center of it. Not spectacular by any means, but certainly mysterious and the source of much speculation. Ever since the day of “the accident”, this “gate” has been contained under 24-hour surveillance deep, deep below the island and, if you ask me, it’s almost like they’re scared something will come out of it, rather than that someone will go in.

I don’t blame them.

Because last night, while I was mopping up some vomit and piss and blood, while nearly everyone else in the facility was engaged with another, highly volatile experiment, there was a massive containment failure. Or, to be euphemistic, an “accident”. And it involved “the gate”. Surprise.

Let me back up. I said I work—worked—at the main facility, and that part is true, but as for me witnessing, and I mean really witnessing, strange shit, well, that’s a whole other bag of worms. Why? Because I was part of the clean-up crew—a glorified janitor. I know, I know. How could you possibly rely on the word of a peon like me, a lowly, unimportant, easily replaceable cog in the wheel? Because I didn’t sign up to be a janitor. I’m part of the US Chemical Corps. I was initially brought on for containment purposes, to stand guard over the…things they keep—kept—there. But soon discovered that my duties were more akin to that of a janitor than anything else; I would spend hours a day cleaning up after these experiments, only ever seeing the aftermath of them. It wasn’t pretty, or fun, or respectable, but at the end of the day it pulled in decent pay. And also, you shouldn’t judge people based on their job…just saying.

Well, as a glorified, slightly resentful janitor, I took it upon myself to find out as much as I could about this incredibly secretive place I cleaned. I hid my curiosity under a guise of extreme dullness and dimness. No one suspected I was capable of anything other than wiping shit and blood and vomit off floors and out of cages and chambers and observation tombs, so I played that to my advantage. As my grandmother used to say, when life give you lemons, cut them in half and squeeze them into the eyes of those who gave them to you. And last night, I was working in full gear down in sub-basement 3, the place they keep the immortals. I was cleaning a particularly bad case. Guess the immortal in question was going slowly insane. “It” had gnawed at both wrists until “it” burst the veins and had to be euthanized. There was blood everywhere. And it stank.

Unfortunately, I happened to be the only janitor on call that night, so it was just me and an escort of two guards. We were all wearing bio-hazard gear, but theirs were black, mine was white. I was inside the containment chamber, in one of the darkened corners, hidden behind the hefty observation tomb, while the two men stood outside shooting the shit. I didn’t recognize their voices, so I wondered for a moment if they were new. They wouldn’t last long, no one ever did here. But their shit was certainly interesting to listen to. Suddenly they stopped talking, and their voices became serious, professional.

“Didn’t expect you here this late, ma’am.”

I peeked out from around the side of the tomb. It was the project lead, who I’ll refer to as PL from now on. Her clothes were muddied, and her hair was wet. And she was wearing a red coat and these old looking cowboy boots. PL never wore anything other than professional attire or her hazard gear. Behind her, following silently, head hung low, was some random girl I’d never seen before. She was wearing black leggings and a chunky sweater. Around her neck was a thick metal collar. It was blinking a blood red light. I wondered for a moment if she was PL’s daughter, then banished the thought from my mind before it got away from me.

PL murmured something that I couldn’t hear and both guards laughed uncomfortably. One of them made to gesture back with a thumb at me, probably about to tell PL why they were down there, but before he could make the full movement PL pulled out a pistol and shot both him and the man standing next to him in the head. Boom, boom. Quick as a flash. They slumped backwards before falling unceremoniously to the ground.

I covered my mouth before I could make a sound, trying to make myself as small as possible against the corner and behind the tomb. The girl following PL didn’t even flinch. I wondered if she was doped up. Maybe the collar was doing something, I don’t know.

PL kicked one of the guards in the foot like she was checking to see if he was dead. Satisfied, she murmured something and turned to leave. The girl looked up in my direction, then looked down again and followed PL to the door. I’m not sure if she saw me, but I didn’t move for what felt like hours after they disappeared, my heart pounding in my throat. Neither of the guards moved again.

Finally, I decided PL had left and that I had to get my ass out of there. I crept out of the chamber and into the hallway. There were several more unmoving bodies littering the floor. I chanced a glance back over my shoulder and I saw it—an open door. It was the door that led down to the containment chamber “the gate” was in. I hesitated, wondering why it was open before realizing PL must’ve opened it.

And, despite my fear, despite my doubt, despite the death around me, I was curious. So curious. I wanted to know what this was about, I wanted to know why PL had killed in cold blood, if it was worth it; I wanted to know a lot of things, but most of all, I wanted to see “the gate”. I wanted to see if it was real, if it could do the things they said it could do. So, I stepped through the open door and into a darkened room. The door swung shut behind me with a resounding boom. Before I could fully panic, my eyes adjusted to the darkness and I saw a red button projected onto what looked like a wall made of obsidian. Carved near the top of the wall was an insignia: a lion wearing a crown and a unicorn wearing a bejeweled necklace holding up a shield split into quarters. Above the shield was an open eye with an iris in the shape of a many pointed star.

I stared at the carving for a moment before walking forward and pressing the projected button tentatively. My heart pounded multiple times a second as I waited. Silently, a thin beam of light appeared down the wall and two doors slid open. It was an elevator. This time I didn’t even hesitate. I stepped right in and watched the doors closed with a hiss.

A cool female voice rang out around me. “Access to containment chamber null has been unrestricted and decontamination deprogrammed. Would you like to proceed?” I stammered out an affirmative. “Acknowledged. Now leaving sub-basement 3.”

That elevator ride felt like both a million years and less than a second, and sooner or later I was looking out into a short corridor that led out to a cavernous space. Its size left me disoriented and apprehensive. It was definitely the chamber that held the “found” technology. A low light lit the area and I blinked once, letting my eyes adjust. And then I saw it.

It was—is—real.

The Gate.

It stood there, hulking and ominous, in the middle of the cavern, raised about a foot in the air on a dais made from bedrock. Carved around the entirety of the human sized hole was a strange script I couldn’t quite make out. The hole itself allowed none of the dim light through; it was pitch black and visceral, like something was hiding inside it, just beyond its edges.

PL was standing next to it, reaching up. And it was so surreal seeing her there, calm as a cucumber. She looked so normal. And I was so entranced by “the gate” I didn’t even think to hide. PL looked over at me and it was in that moment I realized something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Her eyes, normally a light sea-green, were fully black. No green. No white. Full black. And she didn’t look surprised or scared or satisfied to see me standing there, gaping at her. She looked eager. The girl didn’t look up at all.

“Why, hello there,” she said, lowering her arm. “Do you know what assimilation means?” I didn’t respond, and she continued. “How long have you been watching all of us?”

“All of you?”

She laughed. “I’m never alone now.”

“What does that mean? They got you bugged? Who’s the girl?”

Another laugh. “You’re smart for a janitor.”

“Cleaning up shit is how I make money, it’s not who I am. What’s going on? Is this standard protocol?”

“Too smart,” she corrected. “I’m glad you followed me.”

“Glad?”

“It might need two.” She looked back at “the gate”.

“PL, ma’am…what the hell are you talking about? What the hell is going on?”

PL laughed and then her voice changed. It sounded both high and low, like multiple people were speaking at the same time. “I’m going to let them in.”

It was my turn to laugh. It was all just so absurd. All this secret, shadowy shit. All the tests, all the deaths, everything. Finally, I said, “I don’t know what you mean by that, but this is absolutely batshit…”

Instead of responding, PL reached out towards “the gate”, hovering her hand just above the side of it like it was some long-lost lover. I was about to ask her what the hell was going on again, when she reached behind her back, pulled out her pistol, and shot me in the shoulder. I yelled and sank low, trying not to panic, trying to stymie the blood flow as fast as possible. PL snickered and grabbed the girl who was just standing there, silent and docile. She tugged the girl forward, towards the human sized hole.

Suddenly, there was yelling and three guards in all black tactical-biohazard gear ran past me from the corridor the elevator was in. All three were armed to the teeth. Two of them had their weapons trained on PL and one of them had what looked like a sword strapped to his back. I immediately praised The Powers That Be for their arrival. Took them long enough, I remember thinking.

PL glanced at them and made what can only be described as a noise of extreme frustration. It sounded like multiple people groaning at once. She turned towards “the gate” and shoved the girl with all her strength at the gaping black hole in the center. And in that moment, I swear time froze and all five of us watched the girl and her trajectory. It looked like she was going to go straight through that human sized hole, when she suddenly tripped and smashed head first into the side of it, falling backwards onto the dais. The collar around her neck still blinked that blood red light. She didn’t get up again.

One of the guards roared and ran forward. It was the one with the sword. He was holding it double-fisted, left hand above his right on the hilt. He scrambled onto the dais and without missing a goddamn beat he swung it Link-style, around in a full circle like it was slightly too heavy for him and cut PL clean in half. It was insane.

There was a moment of silence that lasted both no time at all and eternity…and then—

As we watched, PL, well, there’s no other way to say this, she melted. All the way from her head down to her boots. Her skin bubbled up and burnt off, her blood evaporated, her bones blew away to dust. And what was left of her pooled down into two puddles of this thick black undulating gelatinous substance that instantly began to recombine into something horrific.

A monster. A huge, horrific blackened blob that roiled and rolled on too many arms and legs and faces. There were parts of people—fucking people—inside of it, pushing out of it. They all looked like they were in the deep throes of passion or pain. And they were all moaning. It was high-pitched and low and terrible.

I recognized one of the faces. It was PL. She was laughing or crying or maybe both. Scared me so much that I didn’t realize I was screaming until I tripped backwards and nearly bit off the tip of my tongue.

The monster made to move, but the guard swung at it again, cutting off multiple limbs and two faces in the process. Before he could get another swing out, it skittered with terrifying speed towards, then through the gate, instantly disappearing into the darkness at the same time an ear-splitting siren sounded.

The script carved around the human sized hole began to glow this brilliant purple-blue color and the ground beneath us all started to shiver and shake. The bedrock dais crumbled, sending “the gate” listing dangerously towards the corridor the elevator was in. A stone fell from above, then another, and another. I screamed again, sending a gush of blood down my chin. A bubble of blackness had formed around the human shaped hole and burst, sending bits of black goo cascading down around us and revealing what I can only describe as a giant eye. It was bright blue. The pupil dilated and locked onto us.

One of the guards pumped all six at it with what looked like a Mossberg 500. And they weren’t normal slugs. They were way too bright and way too loud. The sound of them echoed over the siren and I blinked, blinded by the sudden exposure. The eye blinked too, totally unscathed. It had turned bright red. The guard with the Mossberg turned to the other two and yelled something. And, despite their masks, despite the siren and the stones and the giant eye, I could vaguely make out what they were saying. It sounded like they were arguing about whether or not to destroy “the gate”. One of them said they had to, the other one said it was too late, and the third asked to get the fuck out of there, then pointed over to the girl.

The guard with the sword looked down at her, then handed it over to one of the other guards. He bent down and picked her up, not princess style, but over his shoulder like a soldier or sack of potatoes. And I know he was wearing a mask, but I swear he was crying as he carried her past. The guard now holding the sword slung the Mossberg onto his back and swiftly followed. The last guard, though, stopped and made his way towards me, ignoring the sirens, ignoring that thing staring straight at us. He bent low to my head so that I could hear him over the sound of the siren. “You okay, mate?” He had a slight British accent.

I looked up at him. I could barely make out the color of his eyes from behind the mask—muddied green. I tried opening my mouth, but a spout of blood poured out, so I shook my head instead. He nodded then he helped me up and back over to the room where the elevator was. The two other guards were waiting inside.

“What’re we gonna do with him?” The guard now holding the sword nodded in my direction.

“Nothing,” the one who helped me up replied. He was still bracing me, making sure I didn’t fall. “But I’m not leaving him down there.”

“What about that rock? What about that thing? Why didn’t you let me blow it to hell?”

The guard next to me sighed loud enough for me to hear it through his gas mask but didn’t respond. I glanced up at him, then over at the two other guards. Obviously, I couldn’t tell much about them through all that gear, but the one holding the girl seemed to still be crying. He hadn’t said a single word since picking her up. The guard awkwardly holding the sword seemed skittish. The sword he was holding was bright silver and seemed to glow. The same strange script carved into “the gate” was engraved up the center of the blade. I couldn’t read it.

We arrived moments later at sub-basement 3, the cool female voice of the elevator warning us again about the lack of a decontamination process. I watched the guard who helped me place several blocks of C-4 into the elevator and order it to go back down. We didn’t wait to watch what happened. The basement was deserted, but the alarm was loud as ever. We made our way up and up and up until we reached the ground floor. It was utter chaos and the three guards, the girl, and I slipped into it unnoticed. The remaining staff in the facility were rushing to gather data and secure experiments and subjects for transportation. The British guard immediately handed me off to a scientist, telling her I was in dire need of medical attention and that “the gate” was compromised. He leaned over to me and said four words just loud enough so that I could hear. I turned to reply, but he, the two other guards, and the girl had already disappeared into the crowd. Never saw any of them again.

The four words were: Do what they say.

In the hours that followed the containment failure, all staff, subjects, and experiments were taken to a secure location for decontamination and processing. Some of us were released, others were forced to stay for extra processing. I was one of the “lucky” ones, if you could call it that. Before I was released, I was forced against my will to sign a non-disclosure agreement. And that was their first mistake: letting me go.

Because honestly?

Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck everything.

If they decide to liquidate me then so be it. If I “accidentally” die in my sleep, or overdose, or suffer a massive heart attack, or they somehow blackmail me into doing it myself, so be it.

I’m not afraid of them. What I am afraid of is that thing. I’m afraid of what will happen to the world if this shadowy shit is allowed to continue.

I don’t want to do what they say.

And that was their second mistake: trusting me.

I guess this is just my way of warning you all.

There are things out there—things we don’t understand, things we can’t explain—hiding in darkness, hidden by darkness.

What we see in our everyday lives, what we know about, hear about, read about, barely scratches the surface of what’s really happening in the world. Well, I guess I should say this world.