The corridor beyond the MRI room was dust-choked and still, an untouched relic of an era before silence became so menacing. The group advanced slowly, their makeshift weapons at the ready, eyes darting to every ceiling panel. The creature, whatever it truly was, had grown bolder. Jonah's sudden disappearance still lingered like a ghost around their movements.
It was Finn who noticed the warped panel beside the old nurse's station on the lower level of the west wing. A strange rusted hinge behind an oxygen tank led to a narrow metallic staircase descending into darkness.
Williams narrowed his eyes. "This isn't on any floor plan."
"Which means it's either old... or hidden on purpose," Finn said.
Franklin shook his head. "You really think we should go down?"
Eve, her voice steadier than before, said, "If that thing was made here, the answers will be below."
They descended carefully, each step echoing into what felt like the very bones of the hospital. The stairs led them into a reinforced sublevel, bare concrete walls, no windows, thick steel doors with faded biohazard markings. There was no humming of life-supporting equipment here. Only the stale scent of sterilized air, chemicals, and age.
Edward wrinkled his nose. "I don't like this. Feels like a bunker."
Finn approached the nearest panel, tapping a touchscreen smeared with dust. "The system's in low power mode. But I can bring up the logs."
With a flicker, the console awakened.
A directory appeared: Subject X-15 | Specimen 7 | Neural Integration Logs | Genetic Mapping
Williams's jaw tensed. "Specimen 7?"
Eve leaned over Finn's shoulder. "That's it. That's what we kept hearing about—Specimen 7."
They clicked into the file.
Audio Log #19 – Dr. Lucien Marrow
"Integration of human neural patterns was successful beyond projection. We've enhanced the frontal cortex with protein-coded mutations from predatory mammals. Specimen 7 exhibits advanced tracking behavior, memorization, and the
ability to interpret stress responses in test subjects. It is learning... faster than we ever imagined."
Audio Log #24 – Dr. Marrow
"We underestimated its capacity for independent decision-making. It doesn't respond to commands anymore. Containment breach briefly this morning—only a lab rat, but the precision of the kill... it watched us watch it. This is not just a specimen. It's something else now."
Finn froze. "It's not an animal. They gave it the ability to learn... and then it learned too much."
Eve pointed to a folder labeled Origin Files.
Inside were videos, recordings of the hybrid's creation.
An image flickered to life: a lab filled with vats, genetic splicing equipment, dozens of monitors. And within a tank floated a humanoid figure, veins glowing faint blue, eyes shut.
The narration droned in the background:
"Specimen 7 is the culmination of a decade-long initiative to integrate apex predator traits with human intellect. Using CRISPR-based modifications, we isolated the regenerative capabilities of deep-sea organisms, the echolocation of bats, the ambush strategies of large felines, and merged it into a human embryo. It was designed to survive anything. Be stronger. Smarter. Dominant."
The next clip showed the creature awake, restrained by carbon shackles. A figure, Dr. Lucien, stood before it, visibly shaken.
"You were meant to save lives," he whispered. "But you're the death of all of us."
Rika turned away, her face pale. "They created a monster... with a mind of its own."
Edward's hands trembled. "Why would anyone do this?
Play god like this?"
Franklin's voice was low, bitter. "Because they could. And now we're stuck with the fallout."
Finn found another file. It was a hand-drawn map of the underground complex. A series of interlinked labs, most sealed off by blast doors. Only one route was marked as viable—"Maintenance Hatch A17."
"If we get there," Finn said, "we can reach the core reactor room. That's where they kept the emergency failsafe, the one meant to wipe the whole facility."
"But the hybrid knows this place better than us," Williams said. "It might be waiting."
"Then we don't waste time," Franklin replied. "We move fast, together."
They continued deeper into the lab, passing tanks and surgical tables, dismembered remnants of failed subjects locked behind glass. One specimen had two spinal cords. Another had no face, just skin stretched over where a mouth and eyes should be.
Eve whispered, "They didn't stop at one." Finn nodded grimly. "But only one escaped."
As they passed a room labeled Containment Suite 7, the door creaked open by itself.
Inside were claw marks on the walls, bloody restraints torn loose, and a mural painted in dried blood, symbols and patterns that almost looked deliberate. Like language.
"Did it... write this?" Rika asked.
"It's trying to say something," Finn said. "Or mock us." Suddenly, a heavy clang echoed behind them. They turned. The hallway lights flickered.
Then, silence.
"It knows we're here," Williams said, raising his weapon. Franklin turned to Finn. "Get us to that hatch. Now."
Finn led them through the twisting sublevel halls, past half-functioning security turrets and observation rooms now covered in rust and blood. One chamber held a holographic reconstruction, a simulation of the hybrid moving through the hospital.
It moved through vents, watched from behind mirrors, and learned every routine.
"This whole time..." Eve whispered. "It's been waiting for the right moment."
Finally, they reached the maintenance hatch. It was sealed with a biometric scanner.
Finn stepped forward, and to everyone's surprise, it flashed green and opened.
"How—?" Edward asked.
"I'm in the system," Finn said. "It scanned my hospital ID when we first arrived. They must've given interns access to emergency routes by default."
They descended a final ladder.
Beneath them lay the path to the reactor room.
And somewhere, not far behind, the hybrid crawled through the dark, watching... always watching.