Saint Eden's.

Saint Eden’s.

September 24^th, 1949.

To be honest, this feels weird but I must try and write. Doctor’s orders.

My name is Valentin Bianchi, I am/was a demolition expert for the 301^st Airborne back in the States.

We are in-route to Saint Eden’s and if you’re wondering, where is that? I don’t know. I know nothing really.

What I know is that I was framed for something I didn’t do. See, back home I had some…problems with my C.O. I tried to get rid of him, he did the same but nothing worked until last week. The platoon went out drinking to a bar nearby. We were having fun; everything was well until my C.O handed me a drink and after a sip I passed out. Woke up in a room next to a dead body on the bed. I tried my best to understand what had happened but the M. P’s came in and arrested me without question.

I was charged with murder of an officer and other stuff. I knew my C.O was the one who did it but I couldn’t do shit about it. So, I was sentenced to death by firing squad. I was once in a firing squad. It’s not nice.

September 29^th, 1949.

I arrived yesterday at dusk. Apparently, we are somewhere in the Northern part of France. 180km away from any contact with anyone. 37 to the east, 33 to the west, 42 to the north and 68 south.

The place was abandoned by the French in the early 10’. A plague or something wiped out everyone and the Germans used it as a secret outpost back in 42’. This place isn’t even on our maps but, here we are. Right where Satan himself lost his tail.

I was among the first to get here. We have Cpt. Spencer Poole; he is in charge of security here. Doctor Atkins who’s in charge of…something. I don’t know and Major Woodward; he’s in charge of the whole ordeal, whatever it might be. For time being, I have only seen some doctors and only spoken with Cpt. Poole and he was too careful when I asked about what we are doing here.

We are close to 15 on site but no one answers my questions. I know I am here to blow things up, the question here is what?

October 3^rd, 1949.

More men have been arriving in the last couple of days. We are now close to 80 in total. Soldiers and scientists. I don’t know what’s going on but apparently, we are waiting on the last batch and we are to start working.

This is giving me a bad feeling.

October 9^th, 1949.

Today, Major Woodward himself gave us a head’s up of the what and why’s we’re here. Seems like we are after something the Germans left behind. We don’t know where and we don’t know what it is but it was important for them. So important, they burnt the whole town when we arrived in Normandy.

I’ve been speaking with some of the “new” guys and most of them were also sentenced to death. Different crimes but we were all about to go to the wall when we were “rescued”.

I was finally assigned to a squad earlier today. We are a bunch of…how should I say it? Mismatches. There is Dutch, sergeant of the 105^th Airborne. He killed a man at a bar because he was wearing high-heels. Barnaby, corporal of the 201^st infantry. Murdered a lady when she didn’t want to sleep with him. Powers, Captain degraded to private of the 505^th. He fucked his C. O’s wife and almost killed the poor bastard with a wrench and finally, we have Jenkins, lieutenant degraded to private of the 501^st. He…let’s say he just likes fire. A lot.

Dutch was named squad leader because he was the highest-ranking officer among us and he knew the job well enough, so no one said a word.

October 11^th, 1949.

We finally went in patrol to Saint Eden’s and let me tell you, I felt as if I was back in the war. The fucking woods around the place look exactly like the Bulge. Only difference is weather. It was freezing back then.

Before we left the camp, we were told to grab a gun and ammo for “protection”. When I grabbed my Garand, I noticed that we were very well armed and I mean armed to the teeth. BAR’s, 30.cal’s and tommy guns. Hell, Jenkins was even carrying enough grenades to blow up the barracks. I don’t know what we are really doing here but I am starting to doubt we’re here for “just documents”.

As we were leaving the camp, I turned around and gave it a good look. The barracks at the back, the mess hall next to them, the officer’s quarters and all the shit we had brought with us to work.

As we got close, we noticed the fucking town was surrounded by an old trench. Probably dug by the “Jerrys”. Me and Jenkins dropped inside to check but we found nothing interesting. The tunnels were blown out and blocked, so we left.

Walking though the town, we noticed the burnt structures of the old houses. I walked inside one, just to see how it looked like on the inside and I stumbled upon a skeleton. It was burned to ash. Only thing left was an old rusty Luger and a skull. Wonder what happened to that sorry bastard?

October 23^rd, 1949.

Our squad has been in charge of patrolling around the town for days. We wake up, have some chow and leave for patrol. We come back at dusk, get some chow and repeat.

We are not the only ones doing it though. I spoke with some men from another squad watching the west flank and one of them told me that we are searching for something the Nazis were trying to use for the war. A weapon or something. I didn’t put too much thought to it because the rest of his squad call him “Crazy-Moe”.

They told me he was the sole survivor of his plane crashing on D-day. He wanted to get out but the Germans were looking for survivors, so he stayed inside his plane. Surrounded by the corpses of his buddies for 3 days until a patrol of our boys tried to clear the plane.

Anyone would have lost his fucking mind in there and anyone would had simply killed themselves but he survived it. I know I probably wouldn’t.

Last night, I overheard some doctors talking about something called: “Project Nimbus.” They said that we are close to finding something.

I know I am just a soldier. I know we aren’t supposed to ask questions but as days pass, I am beginning to wonder…what exactly are we looking for?

November 23^th, 1949.

We have been digging like lunatics. Day in and day out. We eat, we grab a shovel and start digging.

Two weeks ago, Major Woodward said the word and we haven’t stopped ever since. Word is that we are searching for a bunker or something like that.

We began digging up the tunnels on the trenches but the effort was useless. Every time we get close, the structure fails and we are back in square one, so we are now digging up in the town, hoping to find something.

December 1^st, 1949.

We found it. The fucking bunker everyone was talking about. It was really here.

Earlier today, me and other demo-experts went down the hole we dug and placed explosives on the ceiling of the bunker. It was close to a yard of concrete but nothing some TNT couldn’t handle.

The whole fucking valley roared with the explosion and I must say, that after digging like crazy, blowing something up was…comforting.

December 18^th, 1949.

This whole town is slowly becoming a sort of experiment. We haven’t seen any of the scientists in weeks. They all are down in “the hole” doing God knows what. We have seen trucks loaded with machinery and mysterious boxes come in and go out.

We are a mile away from the town but when you lay your head on your bed, you can listen the fucking machines digging from here.

December 24^th, 1949.

It’s Christmas. If you look outside there’s snow everywhere. Now, it’s just like the Bulge. We are not allowed to send or receive letters so the Major decided to throw a party for everyone. We have some booze and we’re having turkey later today.

January 2^nd, 1950.

Last night, an earthquake caught us sleeping. We all stood up in a rush and suddenly we saw lights coming from the town. A beam made of all colors, like a rainbow. But it grew brighter and brighter until we went blind for a moment and it was all gone.

Everyone who saw them asked, what were those lights? But we all got the same answer. “Which lights?”. Now, my squad and several others have been diagnosed with: “Paranoia”. And all for asking. Supposedly, we are on meds, but no one takes them. We all know very well what they do.

January 5^th, 1950.

A few days ago, we lost contact with the patrol of “Crazy-Moe”. No one had seen them after they left camp until today.

A convoy of supplies stumbled upon them a few hours ago. It has been snowing a lot so they had to dig them up and…when I saw them…they were torn to pieces. All of them. Command said it was a pack of wolves but no fucking animal does that to a man.

January 7^th, 1950.

There have been more killings around the camp. Everyone is afraid of going on patrol now cause nobody knows what the hell is going on. Every night someone disappears and every day we find a new corpse somewhere. All of them look the same. Eyeless, gutless, tongueless.

Command has ordered everyone to keep guard all over the perimeter. We have dug fox-holes and now we have pulled out the big guns. We have .30 Cal’s all over the place and M2’s on the gates. We have all left back our Garands and changed them for tommy guns. Less power but more bullets.

January 11^th, 1950.

We fucking saw it. We saw the thing that’s been killing around the town. It was nothing made by God, I tell you. I saw as it attacked some guys coming back from patrol close to us.

As soon as I saw it, I opened fire. 200 bullets gone but I am sure I hit it. Every time I close my eyes, I still see the fire of the machine gun lightning up that…thing. Long arms, short legs. Hairless, dark skin. Eyeless, earless.

We managed to save 2 guys from that thing but they are in bad shape. One of them is unconscious and the other was bitten on the arm but he’s lost his marbles. The only thing he says since we got to the camp is: “He’s coming”.

I couldn’t sleep all night and at first light, my squad left to search for the monster. We didn’t find it but we found the trail of blood it left. It was black, like raw petrol and it had clots on it.

Whatever we are doing here, God is not looking.

January 12^th, 1950.

Another earthquake awoke us and just like last time, a beam of light turned night to day for a second.

Davis, the guy we rescued yesterday, killed himself. He smashed his own head against the floor of the nursery. Nicholson, the unconscious guy however, he escaped.

When we went looking for him, we found him on the showers. He cut his neck open with a bayonet and wrote on the walls: “He’s coming…” with his own blood.

What in God’s name is happening?

January 27^th, 1950.

Since last time we saw that fucking light beam shit has gone from bad to worse.

No one patrols at night anymore. When sun goes down, we all jump into our fox-holes, load our guns and pray nothing comes for us, however, those things keep on killing. We found a couple of missing men a few days ago. Something ripped out their hearts and took their heads. Their weapons were nothing but scraps of metal covered with a red-thick saliva.

No one dares to sleep more than 3-4hrs a day anymore. We are all fearful of what is hiding out there. There are a lot of veterans of the war here. Some fought in the Bulge with me and some others saw the horrors of fighting the Japs. We all have seen war and faced death many times but now…we are all afraid. You can feel it. Men who fought with me say we’re back in the Bulge. I say that too; only difference here is that instead of fighting Jerries, we’re fighting fucking monsters.

January 30^th.

We killed one of the things that’s hunting us. It tried to sneak inside the camp just a few moments ago.

I was sleeping when the fire of the .50cal’s woke me up. I rushed outside with my gun when the firing ceased. As I walked pass the door, I saw the guys all staring at something.

I walked closer and I…I…I’m not sure of what it was. The guys fired a hundred bullets at that…thing but it was still alive. It still twitched. I grabbed my gun and I emptied the magazine on it but it didn’t die. It didn’t die. The thing suddenly tried to attack a guy close to it but it missed him but not his rifle. That monster cut it in half in a small swing.

Finally, Jenkins walked in. He was carrying a flamethrower I didn’t knew we had. No one said a word. We simply stepped away and he fired it. The roar of the flames and the screeches of that monster as it burned away are among the things I will never forget.

God, please help me.

February 6^th.

Today they brought one of the scientists back in a hurry. I saw him as they rushed him to the nursery. His left arm had been torn off completely. But that’s not the worst part. Hours later, we began to hear him scream the same shit Davis and Nicholson were saying before they killed themselves. “He’s coming”.

I do not mean to stay and find out the answer to that. I overheard some guys planning on leaving tonight. I wish I could go with them. This place is becoming a nightmare.

February 8^th.

Major Woodward found some of the deserters close to the camp in the morning and sentenced them to death. By firing squat nonetheless. We all were forced to witness their execution.

Later on, whilst on patrol, Powers and I found the rest of the guys who managed to escape. Their stomachs were torn open, everything inside was…gone, along with their heads.

We all want to run from this cursed place but whether we like it or not…there’s no escape.

February 20^th.

Few days ago, another beam of light lit the place up. This time, shit went out of hands and I know it. I know it because Woodward asked for reinforcements and they got here last night. A whole company came to help and they are armed to the teeth. Even better than us but they don't know they just entered Hell.

The Major sent some new arrivals to the “hole” earlier today and they all came back in pieces and those who came back intact, lost their minds and killed themselves.

As days go by, I wonder if God is watching us because if he is…

February 22^nd.

I am losing my mind in this God forsaken place. Last night, I had a dream. I was…floating somewhere. It was cold, dark, empty. Suddenly I felt a hand on my neck and a voice said: “I am coming for you all.”

I woke up and I had a black mark on my neck but that’s not the worst. When I turned around, I saw Dutch bearing the same thing on his neck. And Jenkins and Powers and Barnaby…we were all marked but we were not the only ones because everyone on the base was marked.

I don’t know why, or how, but the closer I am to Saint Eden’s…it feels like if I could hear him. I feel him. Whatever that thing is…He’s coming.

April 1.

We are losing our minds and we are being killed one by one. Those…demons are roaming the camp, killing everyone they can and we…we are beginning to lose it. Each day it goes by, I hear him getting closer and closer and closer and I heard the same words over and over and over. He’s coming.

April…something.

We found Barnaby dead on the bathroom today. He smashed his head against the wall. The voice grows louder every day.

Day…

We are fewer every day. Captain Poole killed himself a few days ago. Dutch disappeared last night. Powers is in the nursery after something teared his arm off.

He’s coming.

Date...

The Major disappeared last night. He went straight into Saint Eden’s. Now it’s only a few of us left. We are running low on ammo and low on food. God help us. He’s coming…

…

There’s only 5 of us left. All of the others have killed themselves or being killed by the monsters now roaming the woods. I am in Hell and God has forsaken us. He’s coming…

…

He’s coming…

…

God. He’s here.