footsteps. “Identify yourself!”, Brian shouted. The voice simply 
continued shouting that it was wounded, that it was hungry. As they 
stumbled through the cavern, they heard it more clearly, discerning 
a British accent. Mike didn't know of any British forces that had 
worked in the area since the start of the war. He wondered how 
anyone, even someone from the SAS, could survive down here for 
eleven years. As he stood there, wondering, he heard a scream 
behind him. “Help me out here, boss! My fucking ankle's broken!” He 
flipped a blue lens on his headlamp and shone it at his partner, 
seeing the blood flowing from the open fracture. Mike worked quickly 
to staunch the spurting flow, prying his teammate's foot from 
between the rocks and splinting it as best he could. 


“You're going to be okay, we're turning back and we're going to get 
you out of here. You just earned your free ticket home, pal.” Brian 
grunted as the quickclot heated up, sealing off his wound. Mike 
turned to grab his radio, to tell the team that they were coming out of 
the cavern, but there was no response. They were too far 
underground for radio signals to reach the outside. He turned to lift 
Brian out, to carry him out of the cave, but he was gone. “Brian! This 
isn't funny, where the hell are you? Get back here so | can get us 
the hell out of here!” But there was no response. The rocks looked 
the same as they had when Brian was lying there, the blood was still 
on the floor of the cave, but Brian was gone. He had vanished 
without a trace. 


Mike doubled back, running as fast as the rough ground would 
allow. He knew that he should have found one of the chemlights by 
then, that he should be going back the way they came, but he 
couldn't find even a trace of light in the impenetrable black of the 
cave. He froze when he heard the voice call out again. “Your friend 
is safe. He's home now. You'll be home soon. Just follow my voice,” 
said the Englishman. Mike felt compelled to find him, bound to find 
where the owner of that voice had taken his partner. As he pressed 
on, the sound of his footsteps gave way to the gurgling of an 
underground stream, and the blackness gave way to a warm, 
flickering glow. As he rounded the corner, he saw a man sitting by a 
fire on the bank of the stream. He was wearing a red coat with a 
high collar, faded epaulets resting on his shoulders, tarnished gold 
buttons running down his chest. A dessicated husk of a man in body 


armor rested on a rock by the brook. 
“What did you do to him? What did you do to Brian?” 


“| brought him home, Sergeant Oliver. He's safe with his family now. 
Isn't that what you want, more than anything? To be home, as 
though none of this had happened?” Mike was too stunned to notice 
a bony, wizened hand reaching out to him. 


Mike Oliver had retired from the service after the peace brought 
about more downsizing in the Army. He had gone to school, became 
a doctor of history, a man with children and infant grandchildren, but 
every day of his life, whenever his mind was unoccupied, he saw a 
young man in a red officer's coat, just out of view, hiding in the 
corner of his eye. 


The Last Site 


Chapter One 


Site-80 Logbook 

Security Log: Romeo-249.2 
Date: 04/23/2021 

Begin Log: 


10:34 a.m. — Site breach warning activated. Breaches 
detected in Keter wing, unit 12 and unit 15. Automated 
lockdown initiated. Security notified. 


10:41 a.m. — Multiple containment breaches detected 
across all containment levels. O5-Command has been 
notified. 


10:42 a.m. - userinput: /user J_ Kaster password: 
Ondom1ni847!! 


10:43 a.m. — Site command login code accepted from 
user: Jonathan Kaster. 


10:43 a.m. - Site Command input: /Initiateprotocol 
Heilo7-7 


10:43 a.m. — Site emergency evacuation protocol 
initiated. 


Tell me what you saw that morning, please. 


My sister and | saw the explosion from where we lived. We just 
stood there stunned. There was always something about war on TV, 


number of supernaturally-related books. Our Agent in the area found 
that 963-1 was incapable of being damaged and brought it in 
according to protocol XLR-8R- . 


Dr. Jack Bright,! a Junior Staff researcher of good standing, was 
assigned the responsibility of researching SCP-963-1's capabilities, 
and granted access to [REDACTED]. Later that year, SCP-076-2 
broke containment (see document 076-2-19A), leading to 
[REDACTED] deaths and _ casualties. Doctor Bright was 
transporting SCP-963-1 by hand past SCP-076-2's containment unit, 
and was among the first KIB (killed in breach). Approximately days 
later, D1-113, tasked to clear the area of rubble, discovered 963-1 
among the wreckage and picked it up. An immediate, noticeable 
change came over D1-113. Interview follows. 


Interview Log x_ , Date: - - 
: Could you please tell me your name? 
D1-113: It's Jack Bright, you damn well know it is! 


: | believe you are Tom Higly, working for us as part of 
your life sentence. 


D1-113: Don't be ridiculous! | couldn't possibly be- 
(SCP-963-1 is removed at this time from D1-113's 
possession. A further MRI shows that D1-113 ceases all 
higher brain functions. 963-1 is returned, upon which 
brain function returns.) 


: Dr. Bright? 
D1-113: What? 


: We appear to have a problem. 


After much experimentation, it has been discovered that when any 
living anthropoid comes into direct skin contact with SCP-963-1, the 
mind of the subject is wiped, and that of Dr. Bright is projected from 
963-1 onto the subject. It is known that memories native to Dr. Bright 


but we never thought it would happen in our backyard. We always 
thought it would be some far off place. 


10:45 a.m. — Loss of site reactor. Backup generators on- 
line. 


10:46 a.m. — System failure. Attempting to access 
backup systems. 


10:46 a.m. — Backup systems successfully activated. 
Awaiting command input. 


10:47 a.m. — Site command input: /Arm warhead 
10:48 a.m. — On-site nuclear warhead armed. 


10:48 a.m. — Site command input: /Begincountdown 
short 


10:48 a.m. — On-site nuclear warhead countdown begun. 
T-minus 5 minutes to detonation. 


What did you do after you saw the detonation? 


We ran. There were old mines up the road a little way from us. It’s 
all we could think of. We knew our house wouldn't protect us from a 
bomb. We weren't the only people thinking that, either. Half the town 
was running or driving towards the mines with us. 


10:51 a.m. - WARNING: Current radiation levels have 
peaked in Keter wing. Dosimeter reading at 12 sieverts 
per hour. 


10:51 a.m. — Site command input: /Viewcontainment 
unit-4 


10:51 a.m. — SCP-770 is currently: Uncontained. 
Containment broken at: 10:44 a.m. 


Recommended action: Deploy team to re-contain and 
incinerate contaminated areas. 


Avoid: Contact between SCP-770 and radioactive 
isotopes. Can cause exponential growth and destruction, 
and XK-class (scorched earth) end-of-world scenario if 
uncontained. 


What happened when you got to the mines? 


Us and the other people ran into the closest entrance. We wanted to 
stop, but the older people kept pushing us deeper into it. They kept 
yelling that we weren't safe near the entrance. | saw a path off to the 
side, so | grabbed my sister and pulled her over to try and let the 
older people get past us. That’s when we found the door. 


10:53 a.m. — On-site warhead will detonate in t-minus 10 
seconds. Final system power-down initiated. 


“The door to this facility, you mean?” Steven asked. 


“Yeah, with the big number forty painted on the door,” replied 
Stephanie. “We tried to open it on our own, and that’s when your 
guys came out of it and arrested us or whatever.” She looked 
annoyed as she spoke the last bit. She shot a glare at him that he 
matched briefly. 


“It’s a standard procedure for all...” 


“Yeah, | know,” she cut in. Procedure for all Sites you guys operate 
since there’s ‘top secret’ government stuff stored at them or 
whatever it is you people do here. Same thing you say every time 
we talk.” 


Steven chuckled softly to himself. Even a year after being here, 
she’s still trying to keep that teenage defiance, he thought. “One last 
question. This one is different. Did you notice anything unusual 
about the pathway leading to the door of this facility?” 


Stephanie shrugged as she thought for a moment. “Nothing that | 
can remember. It just looked like another spot the miners had cut 
out a long time ago. You guys should know what it looks like since 
you use it.” 


“Thank you. That's all.” Steven leaned over and picked up a 
recorder from the table. “Interview concluded on March fourteenth, 
twenty-twenty-two at thirteen hundred. Will resume in one month,” 
he said into it. He stood and turned to exit the room. 


As he neared the exit, he heard Stephanie call to him. “Yes?” he 
asked, still walking towards the door. 


“If you won't let me or my sister see the other people from the town, 
can you at least tell me if they’re ok?” she asked. He turned to look 
at her. She was looking down at her hands, fidgeting on the table. 
She reminded him of his own daughter after she broke his watch off 
his wrist. A brief flash of sympathy and sadness came over him, 
before his clinical side refocused. 


“We have been monitoring them. They seem to be functioning well. 
No one has died yet, if that’s what you’re asking,” he responded. 


“Thank you,” She said. Her face looked noticeably relieved, but she 
held her voice in check. 


Steven turned and left the room. 


He shut the door behind him. Rubbing his temples with one hand, he 
pocketed the recorder and motioned for the guard at the desk to 
come to him with the other. His slender hand caught the guards’ eye 
immediately, and without hesitation the guard stood and came to the 
door. 


Steven took a deep breath, then spoke. “We’re done for now. She 
can go back to her room.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Let 
her and her sister choose what they want for their meal tonight. She 
was more cooperative than she realized today.” 


The guard nodded briskly, then moved to enter the room. Steven 
walked towards the opposite door, still rubbing his temples. His 
chronic headaches had been getting worse. They always seemed to 
be especially bad after interviews. This one felt different though. He 
had felt an emotion all but forgotten before today. 


Steven fumbled in his lab coat for his keycard for a moment before 


producing it and running it through the door lock. The small light on 
the door flashed green, and the sound of maglocks disengaging 
sounded in the small holding room. He took one more deep breath, 
opened the door and stepped through. 


A well-lit, quiet hallway greeted him. He turned left and began 
walking towards a set of double doors at the end. His quiet footfalls 
sounded as thunder in his head. Where is everyone? he wondered. 


Passing through the double doors into a larger hall, a small 
commotion caught his attention. He walked towards a door to his 
right, and found most of his research team huddled around a 
computer terminal. They seemed concerned, speaking in hushed 
whispers amongst themselves. He noticed that Jovan, his team 
lead, was seated at the terminal, typing furiously. 


He cleared his throat. The rest of his team turned to face him. 
Silence permeated the room, shocked faces on each person. 
Finally, Jovan spoke. “Steve, have you heard?” 


“No, but this gathering, coupled with the lack of work, has my 
interest piqued,” he responded. 


Jovan swallowed hard. He looked back at the screen briefly, then 
back to Steven. “Storage site one-thirty-four stopped responding,” 
he said slowly. He paused to let the information sink in before 
continuing. “That means we are the last known functioning site.” 


Steven rested his chin in his left hand. For a few moments, the 
tension in the room grew unbearable. “How did the information come 
through?” 


“We received a message from SOLA stating that the radiation levels 
at their site peaked at 13 sieverts and that their automated lockdown 
had initiated.” Jovan shifted back to the screen. Steven walked 
behind him, the rest of his team following suit. “I tried to contact the 
A.l. after that, and not a single response has come since.” 


“How long ago was this?” 


“Three hours.” 


“Ok, keep pinging the site. If you hear anything at all, call me.” 
Steven read the message over his team leads’ shoulder as he said 
this. It didn’t look good. The only thing at that site containing any 
radiation at all was the stored warheads, but Steven knew those 
were disarmed. The only other possibility was that SCP-770 had 
finally breached the caverns they were in. 


“I'll be in my office. Anna?” Steven motioned to one of his team 
members. She straightened up. “Can you take Hallie, Jackson and 
Connie down to lab three and see if they have any spare comm 
units? If so, bring as many as you can. I’ve got an idea forming | 
wanna try.” She nodded, and her and three others walked briskly out 
of the room. 


“Jovan, keep checking one-thirty-four. Don’t leave that computer. 
Have someone bring you water or food if you need, but | want to 
know if anything else registers. Everyone else, make sure whatever 
you were last working on is finished. Take a short break to get a 
drink or food, then meet in lab one at fifteen-hundred hours for a 
team meeting.” 


The rest of his team nodded and began to file out of the room. 
Steven stood behind Jovan, reading the message one more time, 
then turned to leave himself. The walk back to his office was long 
and full of thought. 


When he arrived, he swiped his keycard through the lock and swung 
the door wide. He thumbed his light switch, quickly flicking each light 
on. Grabbing his chair, he sat and pulled himself to his desk, waking 
his computer in the process. If he wanted to lead his team and his 
site by example, he had to finish what he was working on just the 
same as he had asked his team to do. 


Research Site 40 Administrator 
Terminal 


Username: 
Password: 


Site Director Steven Lamand began typing quickly. The sound of his 


mechanical keyboard reminded him of an old typewriter his father 
used to own. It felt soothing during times of high stress, with now 
being one of those moments. 


As the login screen switched to a loading screen, he pulled the 
recorder from his pocket and placed it on his desk. He opened his 
drawer and withdrew a small USB cord, plugging one end into the 
recorder. As he plugged the opposite end into the computer, a small 
picture frame fell on his desk. He reached to prop it back up, and 
paused halfway through the motion. From the picture, his wife and 
daughters’ eyes met his. 


He sat in his chair, unmoving, for a few moments. Emotions he 
promised he would not let out began to well up inside him. He ran 
his thumb over the faces of the only two people he had ever cared 
about. He wanted to see them again at that moment. To forget 
everything else for a time. But deep down, he knew. 


The Lesser of Two Evils 


"Awaken, Brother." 


The man on the altar slowly opened his eyes. He was certain he 
hadn't moved, yet the surroundings were clearly different. Before, he 
had been in what had seemed at first to be a church, but with all 
religious symbols removed. Now, although everything was in the 
same place it had been before, it appeared...warped, somehow. 
Twisted and distorted in a way that he couldn't quite describe, but at 
the same time felt right. Like he was finally seeing this place as it 
truly was.