The creature's breath hit Evan's face first—cold, chemical, wrong.
It cocked its head, bones cracking as though its skull didn't quite fit its shape. The skin along its jaw stretched like wet paper, and even though it had no real eyes, he knew it was looking directly at him.
Evan didn't scream.
He couldn't.
His body had frozen on instinct, the way prey freezes when a predator's teeth are already touching its skin.
The creature leaned closer.
Closer.
Its nose—if the wrinkled slit could be called that—hovered near his neck, inhaling him, tasting his fear.
And then it whispered in a voice that wasn't a whisper at all—more like broken radio static forming words:
"Found… you."
Evan snapped out of his paralysis.
His hand shot to the floor, grabbing the first thing he touched—an iron rod from one of the shattered containment chambers. He swung it upward blindly.
The rod struck the creature's jaw.
A wet, cracking sound.
Not the crack of bone.
More like a rotten watermelon splitting open.
The creature recoiled, its head snapping sideways unnaturally far. Black fluid splattered across the chamber wall.
It didn't scream.
It didn't react like something hurt.
It tilted its broken head slowly back into place… and smiled.
That smile—
Too human.
Too intentional.
As if it was pretending the idea of pain amused it.
Evan didn't wait for it to move.
He bolted through the maze of containment chambers.
The lights above flickered violently, plunging the room into strobing darkness. Every flash revealed the creature jerking closer—its movements glitching, skipping space, as if reality wasn't loading it properly.
Flash—
It was crawling on the ceiling.
Flash—
It was ten feet closer.
Flash—
It was directly above him.
Evan dove sideways as the creature dropped, smashing into the floor where he had been. Metal buckled under its weight. The floor cracked.
He sprinted between two overturned lab stations, leaping over shattered glass. His foot slipped on a puddle of black fluid and he tumbled hard, crashing into a toppled monitor stand.
Static hissed from the broken screen.
His ears rang.
Get up, get up—Evan GET UP—
He stumbled to his feet and ran toward a half-open door at the back of the chamber. The metal plate beside it read:
CONTROL ROOM B
He didn't think; he just shoved his body through the narrow opening.
The door didn't lock.
Of course it didn't.
Nothing in this place stayed locked for him.
The building wanted him to keep going.
The lights in Control Room B were dim, powered by backup batteries that hummed like dying bees. Papers were scattered across the floor, some torn, some burned. Old equipment blinked weakly, screens cracked.
A main console sat in the middle.
On it, dozens of digital folders were open.
Every file was labeled with a timestamp.
Every timestamp matched tonight.
Evan approached slowly, his fingers hovering over the controls.
One window blinked.
Then opened by itself.
A video feed.
A dark hallway.
A familiar one.
It was the hallway from Chapter 5—the one where he thought he was alone.
But this feed was from ten minutes earlier.
He watched himself run across the frame, panicked, breathless, desperate.
But there was something behind him.
The same shadow he had seen in the earlier monitor room.
Only now he could see it clearly.
It wasn't the creature.
It wasn't a humanoid shape at all.
It was taller.
Thinner.
It moved with human shape but wrong proportions. Shoulders too wide, arms too long, legs bending backward like an insect's. Its head in the feed tilted as it watched him run.
And then—
The shadow turned
and stared directly into the camera.
The feed cut to static.
Another window opened instantly, as if the system wanted him to see it.
A personnel file.
But it wasn't an employee.
It wasn't a scientist.
It was labeled:
"SUBJECT – E.M."
His breath caught.
E.M.
Evan Marsh.
Hands shaking, he clicked the file.
A document loaded. Lines of text.
He skimmed them, each word sinking into him like ice.
SUBJECT E.M. – Phase 2 Trial
Status: Unstable
Response: Fragmented Self-Recognition
Notes: "Subject unaware of duplicative presence. Identity is split. Secondary manifestation has formed inside the structure."
Evan felt dizzy.
His lungs tightened.
No. No, this is wrong. This can't be me. This isn't—
Another line appeared at the bottom of the document, as if someone on the system was typing live.
Letter.
By letter.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Evan stepped back as the message finished:
"HE IS YOU."
The console went black.
The lights cut out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Only the sound of wet footsteps approached from behind him.
Evan spun, swinging the iron rod wildly.
But the room was empty.
Silent.
Until—
A soft exhale brushed his ear.
He whipped around instinctively—
And froze.
This time it wasn't the creature.
It wasn't the shadow.
It was him.
Another Evan.
Standing in the corner of the dark room.
No expression.
No breathing.
Just staring.
A perfect copy of him, except…
Its fingers twitched like they weren't used to being attached to a hand.
Evan stumbled backward, gripping the iron rod tightly enough to hurt.
"Stay back," he whispered.
The other Evan tilted his head, mirroring the exact angle Evan had tilted his head earlier when reading the file.
Like a reflection delayed by a few seconds.
Then it whispered in a perfectly calm, perfectly flat voice:
"There's no back to stay away from."
Evan's mouth went dry. "What… what are you?"
Its eyes sharpened.
A smile formed.
Too familiar.
Too practiced.
Too much like his own forced smile in old photos.
"I'm what's left."
And then the other Evan lunged.
Evan swung the iron rod in pure panic, but the copy moved with inhuman speed—dodging not by stepping back, but by bending its spine sideways at a grotesque angle.
The rod hit nothing but air.
The copy grabbed the rod mid-swing, twisted it from his grip like it weighed nothing, and threw it across the room.
It hit the wall with enough force to bend it.
Evan backed away, falling over a broken chair. His shoulder slammed into the ground. Pain shot up his side.
"Stay—away—"
His copy crouched down slowly, almost curiously, watching him like he was a puzzle.
Then it gently reached toward his face.
Not with malice.
With… fascination.
Evan slapped the hand aside and crawled backward.
The copy's head twitched sharply.
The temperature in the room dropped.
Its voice came out distorted this time, layered, like more than one thing was speaking through it:
"We can't exist separately."
Evan shook his head violently. "I'm real. YOU'RE the one that—"
"NO."
The word shook the room.
His copy leaned forward.
So close their foreheads nearly touched.
"You're the one who broke."
Evan's breath stopped.
His pulse spiked so violently it hurt.
The copy lifted a hand—
Not to strike.
To grab his throat.
Evan scrambled backward, kicking off the floor—
His foot hit something soft.
A body.
He turned—
There, lying on the floor behind him, was a person.
An unconscious man wearing the same clothes Evan remembered seeing months ago—
Security uniform. Badge still on the chest:
DEACON HILL
Evan's throat closed.
He recognized the name.
From the file drawer in the lobby.
One of the missing.
His skin crawled.
Before he could react, before he could even think—
The copy spoke behind him:
"He's not the only one."
Evan turned slowly.
The copy pointed to the dark corner behind the console.
Shapes lay there on the floor.
Slumped.
Human.
Some fresh.
Some rotting.
Some in restraints.
Some with faces twisted in terror.
Evan's breath broke.
The room smelled of death all at once.
The copy stepped closer, its shadow swallowing the floor.
"Everyone who entered the building tried to run."
It leaned in.
"Just like you."
Evan scrambled to his feet, slipping on the cold floor. He lunged for the door.
The copy didn't chase him with speed.
It didn't need to.
Its voice followed him:
"You're not escaping a place built for you."
Evan burst out of the control room, slamming the door behind him. His hands shook violently.
The hallway lights flickered to full brightness for the first time.
He blinked against the sudden light, and when his vision cleared—
He saw a message on the wall ahead.
Huge.
Spray-painted.
Dripping.
RUN, EVAN
And below it—fresh:
BEFORE HE DOES
Evan's blood went cold.
He wasn't alone in the hallway.
A shadow stretched on the ground behind him.
Personal.
Human-shaped.
But stretching longer…
And longer…
And longer…
As if someone tall was standing right behind him.
He didn't turn.
He ran.