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aOur Local Power Plant is Burning Something Much Worse Than Fossil Fuels, Part 1
Begin transmission from \[REDACTED\], Quarantine Lvl 24
I’m not sure how much time I have before they track this, but there’s a lot to go over and I want to make sure every detail is recorded. If this is the only time I’m able to contact the outside world, I want someone to know what really happened on November 13th in \[REDACTED\]. The newspapers said it was a minor power surge caused by a blown transformer at the \[REDACTED\] Power Plant. They lied. Something was unleashed that night. Something I still can’t quite explain, but I’ll be damned if they keep the truth buried down here with me. And it.
The whole thing started with the drains…
Nov 13 - Midnight
“Last chance to chicken out,” I said. I was with my two best friends from high school. We’ll call them Colton and Abby. The three of us had dressed for the occasion: black long-sleeved shirts, black jeans, black shoes, black hats. We stood in a large concrete basin, staring at the entrance to a massive storm drain. Someone had graffitied the phrase ABANDON ALL HOPE above its opening.
“I’m not chickening out,” Abby said, adjusting her backpack. “But I don’t wanna get Covid-23, ebola or whatever else is in there.” She put on an N-95 mask.
A trickle of brownish sludge flowed from the drain’s entranceway, a mixture of rain water, decaying plant matter and God-knows what else. It had a slightly musty smell. Probably nothing serious. Hopefully. Still, Abby had a point. I donned an N-95 myself.
Colton just grabbed a black bandanna from his pack and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He slung a particularly heavy backpack over his shoulder.
“You pack your whole closet in there?” Abby asked.
“It’s just some extra flashlights and batteries,” Colton said. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Fine by me,” Abby said. “So long as you’re the one carrying it.”
Colton smirked. Neither he nor Abby had been urban exploring before. Unlike me. I’d already been on countless expeditions with my urbex group The Night Riders, which was just me and two of my best friends since grade school. We’d drive around late at night on the weekends and explore abandoned locations around our hometown: old paper mills, condemned mental hospitals, abandoned and (allegedly) haunted mansions. We’d snap photos, record videos and tag walls with graffiti, while uploading the images and videos to our TikTok (nightRidersUrbex). It was dumb and dangerous, but being 16 in a small town, you tend to do dumb and dangerous things for fun. The Night Riders was how I discovered the storm drains and learned that they led to our local power plant. We’ll call it the Frog Hollow Power Plant. We didn’t explore the plant ourselves. It wasn’t an abandoned facility and we didn’t wanna risk getting arrested for trespassing. But I made note of the plant and included its location when we mapped the drainage system.
“How far do we have to go?” Abby asked.
I checked my hand-drawn drains map. I’d made it for the Night Riders. It was a large sheet of sketch paper filled with criss crossing pathways originally drawn in pencil and later traced over in ink. I’d marked each drain with a corresponding color and approximate distance (yellow tunnel: 15 min walk, blue tunnel: 30 min walk). My finger ran across all the tunnels we’d have to traverse to make it to Frog Hollow. “It’s about an hour’s walk.”
“An hour in there?” Colton stared into the dark void beyond the drain’s entrance. I met him through an after school club I’d joined to boost my resume for college applications. It was called the Eagle Eco Warriors, named after our school mascot, the Eagles. I say I joined to boost my resume, but I also had a crush on Abby Williams, the club’s historian, a state-championship-winning track star and consistently voted among the school’s top babes. I’d never had the courage to say more than a few words to Abby in the English class we shared, but I figured joining the Eco Warriors would force us to interact more. And it did. Abby took a real interest in my outdoorsy hobbies (hiking, fishing, biking) and I realized we shared a lot of the same interests, including a love of classic 80s and 90s horror flicks. But I also learned she was dating the Eco Warrior’s president and co-founder, Colton.
The night of November 13th was Colton’s idea. He’d conceived of the plan even before he found out about my adventures with the Night Riders and the secret entrance to Frog Hollow. Colton, like many residents of our town, was fed up with the power plant on its outskirts. There had been rumors of toxic leaks going back decades. But every official investigation into the plant’s operations turned up nothing. It was as if the power company had paid off every politician and law enforcement official, forcing them to look the other way, while locals reported strange illnesses and weird, foul-smelling water flowing from their faucets.
“Someone needs to expose them,” Colton said at our Eco Warriors meetings. “Everyone knows they’re dumping waste into the river. We just can’t get onto the property to prove it.”
Then Colton heard about my drains map.
—
Thin root tendrils hung from the curved concrete ceiling like matted hair. We had to duck down to keep from hitting them as we walked through the drains. I led the group with my map, using a headlamp to light the way. The lamp’s halogen bulb only illuminated a few feet into the darkness, but at least it was bright enough to reveal any obstacles in our way. We kept our legs far apart so as not to step in the thin stream of brownish-green sludge flowing along the drain’s base.
I captured some short clips of the journey on my iPhone, close ups of a tiny spider dangling from a silvery web on the ceiling, footage of moths hovering near my headlamp like furry little helicopters. Our plan was to upload footage to our socials using hashtags like #froghollowcorruption and #froghollowpollution fter the trip. The Holy Grail would be video of toxic waste dumping on the plant grounds. It was something many locals suspected. But till that time, I figured I’d grab some nice moody shots to use for future Night Riders posts.
We stopped for a water break at a concrete junction point halfway there. Abby and Colton both seemed less anxious in the larger space. I captured more footage of graffiti on the concrete walls left by previous urban explorers. One piece in particular stood out. Someone had painted a detailed circuitboard, like something you’d see in an old electronics manual. It was painted in black, save for one red image in its center. I moved closer to get a better look. All the “circuits” led to a grotesque humanoid stick figure (in red) at the center. The figure had an odd shape: obscenely long arms, an extra head growing from its back, and three red eyes. Staring at it, I felt a strange sensation, like a static shock. It enveloped my skin for a few seconds, then quickly dissipated. I took a picture of the image. Perhaps the other Night Riders would know the artist. Whoever it was, they were insanely talented and insanely creepy.
“We’re making good time,” Colton said, checking a gold watch on his wrist.
“Nice bling,” Abby said. It was a heavy-looking timepiece, one of those popular luxury brands like Rolex or Breitling.
“Thanks,” Colton said, twisting the watch on his arm. “It was my dad’s.”
“Oh.” Abby fell silent. We all knew about Mr. Harrison. His death was perhaps the biggest factor driving Colton’s mission to shut down Frog Hollow. Colton’s dad grew up in Tall Pines, a neighborhood just across the river from the power plant. Back in those days, the plant ran on coal. And the pollution problem was much worse. For years, the residents of Tall Pines complained of brown water coming from their pipes and a general stench in the air, like rotten eggs mixed with burnt copper. But because the neighborhood was home to low income families, almost all of whom were black or brown, the city government made virtually no effort to clean up the mess. This lasted for decades. It took a class action lawsuit and the publicity of an Emmy-nominated TV documentary, The Corrupted Heart of Frog Hollow, to finally bring about real change in the late 90s.
The Frog Hollow Power Company updated their plant to make it more “environmentally friendly." The plant was turned into a “state-of-the-art” natural gas facility, capable of providing “ten-times the power at a quarter of the cost.” They never provided more concrete information than that. Most folks believe they just plugged up all the toxic leaks.
But at least the city relocated all the residents of Tall Pines, free of charge. They were placed in cheap townhomes on the other side of town, a full 20 miles away from the power plant. That’s where Colton was born and grew up. Tall Pines was left abandoned, deemed too expensive to demolish. The neighborhood was condemned, becoming the source of many local urban legends. I’d been there once with the Night Riders. It was eerie seeing all those suburban homes covered in kudzu, their roofs collapsed and windows and doors boarded-up. I refused to go back once I met Colton and heard his story.
Even though the city relocated Tall Pines’ residents, many of them were already carrying lifelong ailments. Residents like Mr. Harrison. Colton’s father had suffered gastro-intestinal issues since he was child, but they didn’t become serious until middle age. At 50, he was regularly vomiting blood and couldn’t hold down any solid foods. It turned out to be stomach cancer. Mr. Harrison spent five years battling the disease and fighting for a settlement from Frog Hollow. He ended up losing both battles. The way Colton explained it, there wasn’t enough evidence to prove pollution caused the disease.
The whole affair had devastated the family. Colton was only 10 at the time. He became deeply depressed and anti-social in junior high, bullying other kids and picking fights on the playground after school. It wasn’t until high school that he started seeing a therapist and getting his life back on track. Most of his current classmates didn’t even know he’d suffered such a horrible tragedy.
“It’s ok,” Colton said, twisting the watch’s dial. “I wanted him here with us tonight.”
Abby laid a comforting hand on Colton’s shoulder. “He is.”
A few quiet moments passed. We sat there, listening to the soft, steady trickle of water flowing through the drains. Then Colton got up, slinging his heavy backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving.”
__
“Do you hear that?”
The drains were growing wider, almost wide enough for us to walk side-by-side. We were close to our destination. I was still leading the way, consulting my map.
“There it is again.” Abby cocked her head.
“There what is?” I asked.
“Wait. Shh…” Abby stopped walking. Colton and I did too. “Listen.”
All I could hear was our muffled breaths beneath the N-95 masks and the occasional drip, drip, drip of water from the ceiling. But after a moment, I heard this soft croaking noise. It was very faint. So faint I almost thought it was in my head at first. “What is that?”
“I hear it too,” Colton said.
“It’s coming from ahead of us,” Abby said. She looked pale.
I took out my trusty MagLite, a heavy-duty flashlight in case of emergencies. “I don’t see anything,” I said, aiming it ahead. The MagLit only illuminated more of the concrete tunnel before terminating in darkness.
“Guys, it’s just some stupid frog.” Colton brushed past us and kept moving. Abby and I quickly followed. I kept the MagLite pointed ahead. As we walked further, it lit up a square junction point.
I nearly dropped my flashlight when Abby gasped. She was the first to see them. “Stop!” We came to a halt just before the junction’s entrance. There were hundreds of them sitting motionless in the darkness. Bullfrogs. Their fat green bodies shined like slimy rocks in the light. I pulled out my cell to record the odd tableau. There were bullfrogs squatting everywhere: the floor, the walls, even a few hanging from the ceiling. But that wasn’t the strangest thing.
“They’re all facing the same direction,” Abby whispered.
She was right. All the frogs stared at a small, blue-green fungus growing in the middle of the junction. It was shaped like a flower.
“Ok. This is really fucking weird,” I said.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Abby asked. The frogs remained motionless.
I shook my head. The strangest thing I’d ever seen urban exploring was a group of rats with their tails stuck together. It was freaky as Hell, but apparently not unknown to science. I Googled it later and found out it was a phenomenon called a “rat king.” But this… I’d seen plenty of bullfrogs exploring at night, but never so many and in such an odd formation. And with the fungus. “I don’t think frogs are supposed to do this,” I said. "I’d look it up, but my signal’s shot down here.”
“Same here,” Abby had her phone out too.
“They’re probably just resting,” Colton said. He seemed antsy. “Jason? Which way do we go next?”
“Jason? JASON?”
I looked up, suddenly realizing I’d been staring at the fungus just like the frogs. The plant’s pale flesh-like body glowed faintly in the dark. “Sorry. What?”
“Your map. Which way next? There’s two different tunnels ahead.”
“Hold on. We’re still going ahead?” Abby asked.
“Yeah,” Colton said. He started to enter the junction.
“Babe! Wait!”
But nothing crazy happened. Colton just brushed some of the frogs aside with his boot. They all hopped out of the way. But they always repositioned themselves to face the fungus again. “See? Nothing to be scared of. Jason, which tunnel?”
I checked the map. “Uh… the left.”
“C’mon.”
“I don’t like this, Col,” Abby said.
“Babe. We’re not turning back.”
“But the fungus—“
“—Is just more evidence Frog Hollow is fucking up nature with its pollution,” Colton said. “And more reason for us to fuck them back. Right, Jason?” He pulled down his bandanna, staring at me.
I sighed. I was usually the one to settle disputes between the couple. Colton was the risk-taker. Abby was the cautious one. While I landed somewhere in the middle. I hated being the one to make the decision, much preferring to go with the flow. But there were three of us so it made sense I’d be the tie breaker.
My gut leaned towards going back. I didn’t want to make Abby any more upset than she already was. But then I saw the look on Colton’s face. The quiet, simmering anger. The longing for revenge. I recalled Colton telling us about the last time he saw his father. “Just a skeleton covered in bed sores.” And then my MagLite hit on something further down the left tunnel, where we were supposed to go next. It was a rusty ladder. And I knew right where it would take us.
“We’re almost there,” I said, pointing out the ladder.
Abby shot me a look I’ll never forget, a look of utter bewilderment. But then she said: “Well. Let’s get this done then.”
We quickly stepped through the sea of bullfrogs. Abby and I made sure to follow Colton’s footsteps exactly, since he’d cleared the animals out with his boots. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I expected. We were through the junction before I knew it… Then to the rusted ladder… And back up to the surface.
__
It took all of our strength, but Colton and I managed to lift the manhole cover so we could climb out. We arrived on the outskirts of the power plant, next to a series of nondescript warehouses. Security lights dotted the featureless buildings, bathing the area in a soft yellow gloom. The night air was chilly. A deep, rhythmic HUM surrounded us. It was the sound of the plant’s many generators and substations.
The main power plant structure loomed in the distance: a series of giant windowless buildings covered in miles of complex metal tubing and topped with thin chimneys that spewed smoke and flame into the cloudy night. It looked like an alien city.
The three of us stayed low behind some bushes, our eyes peeled for any security cameras or guards nearby. But the place appeared abandoned.
“See? There’s no one around,” Colton whispered. He knew someone who had worked security at the plant some years back. The informant had mentioned that the outlying area was barely patrolled between midnight and 2AM.
I checked my watch. It was 1:03. We had almost an hour left. “Ok, the retention pond is just over there.” I pointed to a dark patch of water nearby. “Let’s go grab some shots and GTFO.”
“Wait.” Colton held up his hand.
“What?”
"What is it?”
Colton pulled down his bandanna. He had a strange look on his face, like he was nauseous. “There’s something I need to do real quick. It’ll only take a few minutes. Just stay here.” And before either of us could ask him more, he scurried off into the dark, keeping to the shadows.
“Colton?” Abby gave the loudest whisper she could. “Get the fuck back here. Now.” But her boyfriend didn’t turn back. He’d already disappeared behind a nearby warehouse.
“What the Hell’s going on?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t tell you anything?”
“No.” Abby pulled off her mask. She was clearly flustered, breathing heavily. “He always does shit like this.”
“Like what?”
“Changing plans mid-stream.” Abby sighed. I’d never suspected her and Colton to be having a hard time. They were touted as “relationship goals” by everyone at school. Abby started to follow Colton. “C’mon.”
“W-wa-wait a minute,” I said. “He told us to stay here.”
“Yeah. I’m not gonna let him get arrested doing something stupid,” Abby said. “Or worse…” She didn’t have to say the rest. We both knew a 6 foot black kid trespassing at a power plant could have dire consequences. Abby and I stayed low to the ground, using any nearby foliage for cover. Crickets chipped nearby. We put our masks back on. If any security cameras caught us, at least they wouldn’t see our faces. “I’m gonna kill him,” Abby said under her breath.
That’s when a flash of movement caught my eye. “Abby. There.” I pointed to an area roughly a hundred yards away. It was Colton. He was headed for an electrical substation, a field of giant metal transformers and circuit breakers connected by criss crossing wires. This area was the source of the deep rhythmic hum that had permeated the air ever since we’d arrived on the power plant property.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Abby asked.
Colton took off his heavy backpack, setting it next to the largest transformer. Then he removed a metal box covered in colorful wires. It had an old flip phone attached to it.
“Oh God!” Abby covered her mouth. “Is that…”
Colton left the object by the transformer and ran towards our position. He didn’t notice us hiding in the shadows until he got real close. That’s when his expression turned to anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What— what the fuck are you—” Abby was nearly hyperventilating.
“Colton. Please tell me that’s not a bomb,” I said.
“I told you both to stay by the manhole.”
“Colton! Is that a bomb?”
Colton smirked. “You really think some dumb video is gonna stop this company? They’ll say it’s fabricated. And if not, they’ll bring in another inspection, and the company will pay them off like they always do.” He was so heated, he was almost speaking in a normal voice.
“Babe! This is serious,” Abby said. “We’re talking terrorism charges. You do not want—”
“I know exactly what I want,” Colton said, almost shouting.
At that moment, I saw it: the burner phone in Colton’s vest pocket. The trigger. Only inches away. I could easily grab it. This may be my only shot. No time to think.
I grabbed the phone. My fingers grasped the plastic.
But Colton grabbed my hand. “What are you—”
It all happened so fast. A matter of seconds. We wrestled for the flip phone. But Colton was much stronger. He wrenched it from my hands, causing the phone to open. Then, his thumb accidentally pressed the CALL button. A static shock burned his finger. “Ow!”
BOOM!
The bomb was small, but powerful. And so Goddamn loud! It blew apart the transformer instantly, sending sparks and shrapnel everywhere. A small piece lodged itself in Abby’s thigh.
“Ah. Fuck!”
The lights went out. It was so dark I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face. The humming stopped. The crickets stopped. All noise stopped. It was deathly silent for a few seconds.
Then I heard something that will haunt me for the rest of my life: a distant chorus of screams. It was as if hundreds (thousands) of people were crying out in agony. Some of the voices sounded old and frail. Some like children. And some didn’t sound human at all. They cried in unison like they were all part of one whole, a series of mouths attached to a giant beast. I had no idea what the screams were, but I was certain of one thing: they were all coming from inside the Power Plant! The ground shook like a series of undulating waves. The three of us fell to the ground. I heard concrete cracking in the buildings nearby. The ground was breaking apart. I thought the whole world was about to end.
But then the power returned and the screaming chorus stopped mid-shriek. Some backup generator had apparently kicked on. Humming filled the air. Crickets were chirping again. All seemed normal.
I sat up, noticing the bloody gash on Abby’s leg. “Abby you’re—”
But she wasn’t paying attention to her wound. Abby was crouched over Colton, looking despondent. “He’s not breathing.”
Colton lay motionless on the ground, his right hand still gripping the flip phone. It was charred to a crisp. His hand was singed.
Abby started to perform CPR when Colton suddenly woke up. His eyes bulged, like they were going to pop out of his head.
“Colton?”
He glared at us, like we were strangers.
“We need to get—”
Colton screamed. It was a loud, ear-splitting scream. So loud I had to cover my ears. Abby started to cry. We knew it was over.
Seconds later, a dozen flashlights fell upon us.
Flashlights connected to rifles.
“Face down on the ground.”
“NOW!”
“Hands behind your back!”
We were surrounded by security personnel. Abby and I did as instructed. But Colton just lay there, staring up at the night sky, his eyes and mouth wide.
BRRRR—BRRRR—BRRRR—BRRRR
Shit. That’s the alarm for lights out. I gotta log off. But check back here soon. I’ll finish this report.
I must.
End transmission
#entertainment
source
Begin transmission from \[REDACTED\], Quarantine Lvl 24
I’m not sure how much time I have before they track this, but there’s a lot to go over and I want to make sure every detail is recorded. If this is the only time I’m able to contact the outside world, I want someone to know what really happened on November 13th in \[REDACTED\]. The newspapers said it was a minor power surge caused by a blown transformer at the \[REDACTED\] Power Plant. They lied. Something was unleashed that night. Something I still can’t quite explain, but I’ll be damned if they keep the truth buried down here with me. And it.
The whole thing started with the drains…
Nov 13 - Midnight
“Last chance to chicken out,” I said. I was with my two best friends from high school. We’ll call them Colton and Abby. The three of us had dressed for the occasion: black long-sleeved shirts, black jeans, black shoes, black hats. We stood in a large concrete basin, staring at the entrance to a massive storm drain. Someone had graffitied the phrase ABANDON ALL HOPE above its opening.
“I’m not chickening out,” Abby said, adjusting her backpack. “But I don’t wanna get Covid-23, ebola or whatever else is in there.” She put on an N-95 mask.
A trickle of brownish sludge flowed from the drain’s entranceway, a mixture of rain water, decaying plant matter and God-knows what else. It had a slightly musty smell. Probably nothing serious. Hopefully. Still, Abby had a point. I donned an N-95 myself.
Colton just grabbed a black bandanna from his pack and wrapped it around his mouth and nose. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He slung a particularly heavy backpack over his shoulder.
“You pack your whole closet in there?” Abby asked.
“It’s just some extra flashlights and batteries,” Colton said. “You can’t be too careful.”
“Fine by me,” Abby said. “So long as you’re the one carrying it.”
Colton smirked. Neither he nor Abby had been urban exploring before. Unlike me. I’d already been on countless expeditions with my urbex group The Night Riders, which was just me and two of my best friends since grade school. We’d drive around late at night on the weekends and explore abandoned locations around our hometown: old paper mills, condemned mental hospitals, abandoned and (allegedly) haunted mansions. We’d snap photos, record videos and tag walls with graffiti, while uploading the images and videos to our TikTok (nightRidersUrbex). It was dumb and dangerous, but being 16 in a small town, you tend to do dumb and dangerous things for fun. The Night Riders was how I discovered the storm drains and learned that they led to our local power plant. We’ll call it the Frog Hollow Power Plant. We didn’t explore the plant ourselves. It wasn’t an abandoned facility and we didn’t wanna risk getting arrested for trespassing. But I made note of the plant and included its location when we mapped the drainage system.
“How far do we have to go?” Abby asked.
I checked my hand-drawn drains map. I’d made it for the Night Riders. It was a large sheet of sketch paper filled with criss crossing pathways originally drawn in pencil and later traced over in ink. I’d marked each drain with a corresponding color and approximate distance (yellow tunnel: 15 min walk, blue tunnel: 30 min walk). My finger ran across all the tunnels we’d have to traverse to make it to Frog Hollow. “It’s about an hour’s walk.”
“An hour in there?” Colton stared into the dark void beyond the drain’s entrance. I met him through an after school club I’d joined to boost my resume for college applications. It was called the Eagle Eco Warriors, named after our school mascot, the Eagles. I say I joined to boost my resume, but I also had a crush on Abby Williams, the club’s historian, a state-championship-winning track star and consistently voted among the school’s top babes. I’d never had the courage to say more than a few words to Abby in the English class we shared, but I figured joining the Eco Warriors would force us to interact more. And it did. Abby took a real interest in my outdoorsy hobbies (hiking, fishing, biking) and I realized we shared a lot of the same interests, including a love of classic 80s and 90s horror flicks. But I also learned she was dating the Eco Warrior’s president and co-founder, Colton.
The night of November 13th was Colton’s idea. He’d conceived of the plan even before he found out about my adventures with the Night Riders and the secret entrance to Frog Hollow. Colton, like many residents of our town, was fed up with the power plant on its outskirts. There had been rumors of toxic leaks going back decades. But every official investigation into the plant’s operations turned up nothing. It was as if the power company had paid off every politician and law enforcement official, forcing them to look the other way, while locals reported strange illnesses and weird, foul-smelling water flowing from their faucets.
“Someone needs to expose them,” Colton said at our Eco Warriors meetings. “Everyone knows they’re dumping waste into the river. We just can’t get onto the property to prove it.”
Then Colton heard about my drains map.
—
Thin root tendrils hung from the curved concrete ceiling like matted hair. We had to duck down to keep from hitting them as we walked through the drains. I led the group with my map, using a headlamp to light the way. The lamp’s halogen bulb only illuminated a few feet into the darkness, but at least it was bright enough to reveal any obstacles in our way. We kept our legs far apart so as not to step in the thin stream of brownish-green sludge flowing along the drain’s base.
I captured some short clips of the journey on my iPhone, close ups of a tiny spider dangling from a silvery web on the ceiling, footage of moths hovering near my headlamp like furry little helicopters. Our plan was to upload footage to our socials using hashtags like #froghollowcorruption and #froghollowpollution fter the trip. The Holy Grail would be video of toxic waste dumping on the plant grounds. It was something many locals suspected. But till that time, I figured I’d grab some nice moody shots to use for future Night Riders posts.
We stopped for a water break at a concrete junction point halfway there. Abby and Colton both seemed less anxious in the larger space. I captured more footage of graffiti on the concrete walls left by previous urban explorers. One piece in particular stood out. Someone had painted a detailed circuitboard, like something you’d see in an old electronics manual. It was painted in black, save for one red image in its center. I moved closer to get a better look. All the “circuits” led to a grotesque humanoid stick figure (in red) at the center. The figure had an odd shape: obscenely long arms, an extra head growing from its back, and three red eyes. Staring at it, I felt a strange sensation, like a static shock. It enveloped my skin for a few seconds, then quickly dissipated. I took a picture of the image. Perhaps the other Night Riders would know the artist. Whoever it was, they were insanely talented and insanely creepy.
“We’re making good time,” Colton said, checking a gold watch on his wrist.
“Nice bling,” Abby said. It was a heavy-looking timepiece, one of those popular luxury brands like Rolex or Breitling.
“Thanks,” Colton said, twisting the watch on his arm. “It was my dad’s.”
“Oh.” Abby fell silent. We all knew about Mr. Harrison. His death was perhaps the biggest factor driving Colton’s mission to shut down Frog Hollow. Colton’s dad grew up in Tall Pines, a neighborhood just across the river from the power plant. Back in those days, the plant ran on coal. And the pollution problem was much worse. For years, the residents of Tall Pines complained of brown water coming from their pipes and a general stench in the air, like rotten eggs mixed with burnt copper. But because the neighborhood was home to low income families, almost all of whom were black or brown, the city government made virtually no effort to clean up the mess. This lasted for decades. It took a class action lawsuit and the publicity of an Emmy-nominated TV documentary, The Corrupted Heart of Frog Hollow, to finally bring about real change in the late 90s.
The Frog Hollow Power Company updated their plant to make it more “environmentally friendly." The plant was turned into a “state-of-the-art” natural gas facility, capable of providing “ten-times the power at a quarter of the cost.” They never provided more concrete information than that. Most folks believe they just plugged up all the toxic leaks.
But at least the city relocated all the residents of Tall Pines, free of charge. They were placed in cheap townhomes on the other side of town, a full 20 miles away from the power plant. That’s where Colton was born and grew up. Tall Pines was left abandoned, deemed too expensive to demolish. The neighborhood was condemned, becoming the source of many local urban legends. I’d been there once with the Night Riders. It was eerie seeing all those suburban homes covered in kudzu, their roofs collapsed and windows and doors boarded-up. I refused to go back once I met Colton and heard his story.
Even though the city relocated Tall Pines’ residents, many of them were already carrying lifelong ailments. Residents like Mr. Harrison. Colton’s father had suffered gastro-intestinal issues since he was child, but they didn’t become serious until middle age. At 50, he was regularly vomiting blood and couldn’t hold down any solid foods. It turned out to be stomach cancer. Mr. Harrison spent five years battling the disease and fighting for a settlement from Frog Hollow. He ended up losing both battles. The way Colton explained it, there wasn’t enough evidence to prove pollution caused the disease.
The whole affair had devastated the family. Colton was only 10 at the time. He became deeply depressed and anti-social in junior high, bullying other kids and picking fights on the playground after school. It wasn’t until high school that he started seeing a therapist and getting his life back on track. Most of his current classmates didn’t even know he’d suffered such a horrible tragedy.
“It’s ok,” Colton said, twisting the watch’s dial. “I wanted him here with us tonight.”
Abby laid a comforting hand on Colton’s shoulder. “He is.”
A few quiet moments passed. We sat there, listening to the soft, steady trickle of water flowing through the drains. Then Colton got up, slinging his heavy backpack over his shoulder. “Let’s keep moving.”
__
“Do you hear that?”
The drains were growing wider, almost wide enough for us to walk side-by-side. We were close to our destination. I was still leading the way, consulting my map.
“There it is again.” Abby cocked her head.
“There what is?” I asked.
“Wait. Shh…” Abby stopped walking. Colton and I did too. “Listen.”
All I could hear was our muffled breaths beneath the N-95 masks and the occasional drip, drip, drip of water from the ceiling. But after a moment, I heard this soft croaking noise. It was very faint. So faint I almost thought it was in my head at first. “What is that?”
“I hear it too,” Colton said.
“It’s coming from ahead of us,” Abby said. She looked pale.
I took out my trusty MagLite, a heavy-duty flashlight in case of emergencies. “I don’t see anything,” I said, aiming it ahead. The MagLit only illuminated more of the concrete tunnel before terminating in darkness.
“Guys, it’s just some stupid frog.” Colton brushed past us and kept moving. Abby and I quickly followed. I kept the MagLite pointed ahead. As we walked further, it lit up a square junction point.
I nearly dropped my flashlight when Abby gasped. She was the first to see them. “Stop!” We came to a halt just before the junction’s entrance. There were hundreds of them sitting motionless in the darkness. Bullfrogs. Their fat green bodies shined like slimy rocks in the light. I pulled out my cell to record the odd tableau. There were bullfrogs squatting everywhere: the floor, the walls, even a few hanging from the ceiling. But that wasn’t the strangest thing.
“They’re all facing the same direction,” Abby whispered.
She was right. All the frogs stared at a small, blue-green fungus growing in the middle of the junction. It was shaped like a flower.
“Ok. This is really fucking weird,” I said.
“Have you ever seen anything like this?” Abby asked. The frogs remained motionless.
I shook my head. The strangest thing I’d ever seen urban exploring was a group of rats with their tails stuck together. It was freaky as Hell, but apparently not unknown to science. I Googled it later and found out it was a phenomenon called a “rat king.” But this… I’d seen plenty of bullfrogs exploring at night, but never so many and in such an odd formation. And with the fungus. “I don’t think frogs are supposed to do this,” I said. "I’d look it up, but my signal’s shot down here.”
“Same here,” Abby had her phone out too.
“They’re probably just resting,” Colton said. He seemed antsy. “Jason? Which way do we go next?”
“Jason? JASON?”
I looked up, suddenly realizing I’d been staring at the fungus just like the frogs. The plant’s pale flesh-like body glowed faintly in the dark. “Sorry. What?”
“Your map. Which way next? There’s two different tunnels ahead.”
“Hold on. We’re still going ahead?” Abby asked.
“Yeah,” Colton said. He started to enter the junction.
“Babe! Wait!”
But nothing crazy happened. Colton just brushed some of the frogs aside with his boot. They all hopped out of the way. But they always repositioned themselves to face the fungus again. “See? Nothing to be scared of. Jason, which tunnel?”
I checked the map. “Uh… the left.”
“C’mon.”
“I don’t like this, Col,” Abby said.
“Babe. We’re not turning back.”
“But the fungus—“
“—Is just more evidence Frog Hollow is fucking up nature with its pollution,” Colton said. “And more reason for us to fuck them back. Right, Jason?” He pulled down his bandanna, staring at me.
I sighed. I was usually the one to settle disputes between the couple. Colton was the risk-taker. Abby was the cautious one. While I landed somewhere in the middle. I hated being the one to make the decision, much preferring to go with the flow. But there were three of us so it made sense I’d be the tie breaker.
My gut leaned towards going back. I didn’t want to make Abby any more upset than she already was. But then I saw the look on Colton’s face. The quiet, simmering anger. The longing for revenge. I recalled Colton telling us about the last time he saw his father. “Just a skeleton covered in bed sores.” And then my MagLite hit on something further down the left tunnel, where we were supposed to go next. It was a rusty ladder. And I knew right where it would take us.
“We’re almost there,” I said, pointing out the ladder.
Abby shot me a look I’ll never forget, a look of utter bewilderment. But then she said: “Well. Let’s get this done then.”
We quickly stepped through the sea of bullfrogs. Abby and I made sure to follow Colton’s footsteps exactly, since he’d cleared the animals out with his boots. It wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I expected. We were through the junction before I knew it… Then to the rusted ladder… And back up to the surface.
__
It took all of our strength, but Colton and I managed to lift the manhole cover so we could climb out. We arrived on the outskirts of the power plant, next to a series of nondescript warehouses. Security lights dotted the featureless buildings, bathing the area in a soft yellow gloom. The night air was chilly. A deep, rhythmic HUM surrounded us. It was the sound of the plant’s many generators and substations.
The main power plant structure loomed in the distance: a series of giant windowless buildings covered in miles of complex metal tubing and topped with thin chimneys that spewed smoke and flame into the cloudy night. It looked like an alien city.
The three of us stayed low behind some bushes, our eyes peeled for any security cameras or guards nearby. But the place appeared abandoned.
“See? There’s no one around,” Colton whispered. He knew someone who had worked security at the plant some years back. The informant had mentioned that the outlying area was barely patrolled between midnight and 2AM.
I checked my watch. It was 1:03. We had almost an hour left. “Ok, the retention pond is just over there.” I pointed to a dark patch of water nearby. “Let’s go grab some shots and GTFO.”
“Wait.” Colton held up his hand.
“What?”
"What is it?”
Colton pulled down his bandanna. He had a strange look on his face, like he was nauseous. “There’s something I need to do real quick. It’ll only take a few minutes. Just stay here.” And before either of us could ask him more, he scurried off into the dark, keeping to the shadows.
“Colton?” Abby gave the loudest whisper she could. “Get the fuck back here. Now.” But her boyfriend didn’t turn back. He’d already disappeared behind a nearby warehouse.
“What the Hell’s going on?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
“He didn’t tell you anything?”
“No.” Abby pulled off her mask. She was clearly flustered, breathing heavily. “He always does shit like this.”
“Like what?”
“Changing plans mid-stream.” Abby sighed. I’d never suspected her and Colton to be having a hard time. They were touted as “relationship goals” by everyone at school. Abby started to follow Colton. “C’mon.”
“W-wa-wait a minute,” I said. “He told us to stay here.”
“Yeah. I’m not gonna let him get arrested doing something stupid,” Abby said. “Or worse…” She didn’t have to say the rest. We both knew a 6 foot black kid trespassing at a power plant could have dire consequences. Abby and I stayed low to the ground, using any nearby foliage for cover. Crickets chipped nearby. We put our masks back on. If any security cameras caught us, at least they wouldn’t see our faces. “I’m gonna kill him,” Abby said under her breath.
That’s when a flash of movement caught my eye. “Abby. There.” I pointed to an area roughly a hundred yards away. It was Colton. He was headed for an electrical substation, a field of giant metal transformers and circuit breakers connected by criss crossing wires. This area was the source of the deep rhythmic hum that had permeated the air ever since we’d arrived on the power plant property.
“What the fuck is he doing?” Abby asked.
Colton took off his heavy backpack, setting it next to the largest transformer. Then he removed a metal box covered in colorful wires. It had an old flip phone attached to it.
“Oh God!” Abby covered her mouth. “Is that…”
Colton left the object by the transformer and ran towards our position. He didn’t notice us hiding in the shadows until he got real close. That’s when his expression turned to anger. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“What— what the fuck are you—” Abby was nearly hyperventilating.
“Colton. Please tell me that’s not a bomb,” I said.
“I told you both to stay by the manhole.”
“Colton! Is that a bomb?”
Colton smirked. “You really think some dumb video is gonna stop this company? They’ll say it’s fabricated. And if not, they’ll bring in another inspection, and the company will pay them off like they always do.” He was so heated, he was almost speaking in a normal voice.
“Babe! This is serious,” Abby said. “We’re talking terrorism charges. You do not want—”
“I know exactly what I want,” Colton said, almost shouting.
At that moment, I saw it: the burner phone in Colton’s vest pocket. The trigger. Only inches away. I could easily grab it. This may be my only shot. No time to think.
I grabbed the phone. My fingers grasped the plastic.
But Colton grabbed my hand. “What are you—”
It all happened so fast. A matter of seconds. We wrestled for the flip phone. But Colton was much stronger. He wrenched it from my hands, causing the phone to open. Then, his thumb accidentally pressed the CALL button. A static shock burned his finger. “Ow!”
BOOM!
The bomb was small, but powerful. And so Goddamn loud! It blew apart the transformer instantly, sending sparks and shrapnel everywhere. A small piece lodged itself in Abby’s thigh.
“Ah. Fuck!”
The lights went out. It was so dark I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face. The humming stopped. The crickets stopped. All noise stopped. It was deathly silent for a few seconds.
Then I heard something that will haunt me for the rest of my life: a distant chorus of screams. It was as if hundreds (thousands) of people were crying out in agony. Some of the voices sounded old and frail. Some like children. And some didn’t sound human at all. They cried in unison like they were all part of one whole, a series of mouths attached to a giant beast. I had no idea what the screams were, but I was certain of one thing: they were all coming from inside the Power Plant! The ground shook like a series of undulating waves. The three of us fell to the ground. I heard concrete cracking in the buildings nearby. The ground was breaking apart. I thought the whole world was about to end.
But then the power returned and the screaming chorus stopped mid-shriek. Some backup generator had apparently kicked on. Humming filled the air. Crickets were chirping again. All seemed normal.
I sat up, noticing the bloody gash on Abby’s leg. “Abby you’re—”
But she wasn’t paying attention to her wound. Abby was crouched over Colton, looking despondent. “He’s not breathing.”
Colton lay motionless on the ground, his right hand still gripping the flip phone. It was charred to a crisp. His hand was singed.
Abby started to perform CPR when Colton suddenly woke up. His eyes bulged, like they were going to pop out of his head.
“Colton?”
He glared at us, like we were strangers.
“We need to get—”
Colton screamed. It was a loud, ear-splitting scream. So loud I had to cover my ears. Abby started to cry. We knew it was over.
Seconds later, a dozen flashlights fell upon us.
Flashlights connected to rifles.
“Face down on the ground.”
“NOW!”
“Hands behind your back!”
We were surrounded by security personnel. Abby and I did as instructed. But Colton just lay there, staring up at the night sky, his eyes and mouth wide.
BRRRR—BRRRR—BRRRR—BRRRR
Shit. That’s the alarm for lights out. I gotta log off. But check back here soon. I’ll finish this report.
I must.
End transmission
#entertainment
source
| 11,000 mlx | |
| 31 | |
| 2 |