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The Records of Brian Waite - Part 1 of 2
Posted By: CoLd BlooDed<broken_lizard12@hotmail.com>
Date: 18 August 2006, 9:22 am

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The Records of Brian Waite

[journal entry #1]
[05.13.56 / 1203 hours]
[classification - gr.]

      Hey, is this thing on? Hello? Voice-registration? This is Brian Waite, of Quarters B-15... 52nd Division. [sound - movement of journal] Okay, there we go. This is the first of many entries, so might as well make it brief.
      I just found out I made it through the program, and I'm finally going on that transfer project with a bunch of other students that graduated with me. We were issued these electronic journals - they record your voice and just about anything else around you that makes sound… pretty cool, huh? Anyways, we're going to that remote sector in Alpha Centauri, behind a massive moon that illuminates the sky of this beautiful gas giant - I've always wanted to go since I saw the pictures in the brochures. Mom and Dad will be proud when I tell them.
      The launch is early in the morning tomorrow. I'll be going into space!
      [sound - fumbling of papers/movement of chair]
      I'll be sure to update this tomorrow.


[Entries 2-3 Missing]

[journal entry #4]
[05.14.56 / 0554 hours]
[classification - gr.]

      Wow, this is probably the single-most important thing that's ever happened to me. I'm so excited that I'm shaking. The students of the exchange - and myself - will be traveling to the Alpha Centauri quadrant where we'll spend our apprenticeship on an isolated space station; entirely for the purpose of preparing ourselves for future jobs in the UNSC. The deal was amazing… all we had to do was go through a six-month course and then we'd be sent off to the outpost, all expenses paid. Ah-mazing.
      Some of the launch crew have been telling me stories, though, creepy ones. I don't know if they're just trying to get under my skin, but the tales are… unnerving. Things about students, like ourselves, going mad because of the remoteness of the station, or some shit like that. I have no other choice but to ignore it and dismiss it as a ghost story. Hah, those fuckers are just trying to scare me. [sound - nervous laugh]
      I'll add another recording if I get bored during the trip, or find anything else out that could be potentially interesting.


[journal entry #5]
[05.15.56 / 1148 hours]
[classification - yllw.]

      This transport ship is actually quite big, I almost got lost not too long ago. I feel like an idiot.
      I've been trying to avoid the worker crew, the ones that told me the stories. There's just something unsettling about them; whether it's the long work-shifts, the space routes they're constantly traveling back and forth on, or the fact that they're just plain crazy, I don't like 'em. Hell, it looks like they've seen way too much, what with the oversized bags hanging below their drooping eyelids…
      Why my sudden change of heart? No real reason, except that they attempted to tell another tale from the crypt[sound - laughter] They gave me a name this time, the name of the man that went insane over his yearly commission at the station. Rick Barnum. That was all they managed to say before I ran off into one of the side passages. Little did I know, I'd spend the next half-hour looking for the exit back to my quarters, and with the recent additions to my mind, my imagination was going haywire. It really created a permanent dislike towards those creeps.
      Well, I'm back now, and more than a little tired. I'll catch up on those hours of sleep I missed when getting ready early this morning.
      [sound - rustling of bed sheets]


[Entry 6 Missing]

[journal entry #7]
[05.16.56 / 2100 hours]
[classification - gr.]

      [sound - prolonged yawn]
      That's more like it! I haven't slept that well in ages… [sound - sigh] You know what I noticed? How beautiful the view is from my room - the sparkling stars really shine when etched upon that empty, black void. Heh, pretty poetic, eh? Poetry was one of my pastimes back in the day… I still got it. [sound - laugh]
      But look at me, getting all personal with the journal. I told myself I wasn't even going to update this thing on a regular basis… however, it does help the fact that the entirety of my friends are up on the first deck. Those guys lucked out. [voice alteration - anger] And here I am, making small talk with a fuckin' electronic gadget given to me by teachers back home; what are they even going to do with this thing when we go back? It's not like anything interesting is gonna happen.
      I'm feeling a bit peeved right now, actually, so I'm going for a walk.
      [sound - movement of unknown objects/papers/chair?]


[Entries 8-9 Missing]

[journal entry #10]
[05.18.56 / 0100 hours]
[classification - orng.]

      We're finally here, and to be honest… it's not quite what I expected. A lot more quiet here than I thought it would; the brochures really exaggerate the exquisiteness of this place. I mean, there's pictures of hundreds of crewmen, apprentices, and officers bustling about the halls, each person with a giant smile on their face - behind them, abundant green shrubbery, and above are windows reflecting the beauty of night. It's all bullshit. First thing I noticed when I stepped off the carrier was that smell. I can't even explain it. It's… rotten.
      I knew it was too good to be true, I knew it. A six month course for paradise? Bullshit. I'm beginning to see why that Rick Barnum guy went insane; maybe it was just the smell that did him in? [sound - laughter] On the bright side, at least my room in this dump is comfortable; I've already unpacked everything and made myself feel at home. My friends Joseph and Andrea are a couple bedrooms down from me, fortunately… just knowing that they're close saves me from feeling too overwhelmed. [sound - sigh/voice alteration - relaxation] Well, the program begins tomorrow, and I'm already thrown off by the Slipspace travel, so I think I'll be hittin' the sack.
      Let the games begin.


[journal entry #11]
[05.19.56 / 1630 hours]
[classification - yllw.]

      Well today was definitely an… interesting day. To think I actually had faith in this place redeeming itself with stable, courteous instructors, but they're just as creepy as all the other fuckers in this place. I even think I saw those janitors from the transport ship again, which makes the situation at hand so much better.
      Anyways, we were introduced to the apprenticeship officials, the ones who will lead us through day-to-day work on the orbital platform, giving us odd-jobs normally assigned to mechanics (who I'm guessing are just as strange). We were also introduced to the officer on the ship, the man in command. Goes by the name of Admiral C. Dredurn; and, judging by his appearance and perma-scowl, I can say he couldn't care less about the outcome of the UNSC program, the students, or even his own freakin' crew. The man scares me, but fortunately we don't have to talk to him on a day-to-day business; he's 'reserved' for emergencies. [sound - laughter]
      Well, dinner is gonna be served in an hour, and I'm beat from walking around the station all day. That rancid, decomposing-body-after-being-left-in-the-heat smell and my deteriorating shoes have made me tired and starving. Here's to hoping that the grub is edible.


[Entries 12-13 missing]

[journal entry #14]
[05.24.56 / 1920 hours]
[classification - orng.]

      I apologize for the scarcity of these updates, but these fucks who run APPCO (apprenticeship core) are working us like dogs, exploiting us for our skills and using them to fix up this remote, desolate piece-of-shit orbital station. I've already worked on the outdated electrical generator eight times in the last three days; the damned thing won't stop breaking down, I swear—they oughta just switch to the back-up machine and make it run full time. [voice alteration - frustration] To think I was actually going to enjoy this experience, to think I was going to gain something from it. It's already been six days and I hate everything about this place. The walls are coated in something that resembles mildew, the lavatories are incredibly unsanitary, the domesticated shrubbery is wilted. Even the crew working on the bridge sneer at us, and the few doctors and nurses that work here ignore us—I'm starting to feel like a fucking outcast. We all are.
      I haven't been able to see my friends, either; the cocksmacks even assigned our seating arrangements in the cafeteria. Whoop-de-frickin'-doo. Geez, I bet I'd be going insane if I didn't have anybody—sorry, anything—to vent to. Thank you for one good prospect, United Nations Space Command! [voice alteration - content/sound - weak laugh]
      Tomorrows Saturday, so everyone has a day off, maybe I'll snoop around and find something interesting… I wonder if they carry any information on Rick Barnum in the records department?


[journal entry #15]
[05.25.56 / 1130 hours]
[classification - red.]

      [sound(s) - shuffling/distant laughter/inaudible conversations]
      Well, I wasn't allowed access to the records department, so I brought my audio journal with me to the library. I should be able to find something here, right? If not, forget about this entire log, just skip it right now… seriously, right now. SKIP.
      Kidding, kidding, don't do it. I'm in a good mood right now, I got a good rest last night, so…
      Anyways, sorry about the noise level, but all the other students are wandering about the station, coming and going places… exploring. [sound(s) - brief laugh/distant footsteps/inaudible Convers.] Exploring for what, I don't know, maybe there's some secret treasure supposedly buried in the uppermost floor by Admiral C. Dredurn, the scurviest pirate in these seas!
      Gah, sorry. Let's get down to business; I'm on the workstation computers right now, trying to uncover some old records of crazy ol' Rick Barnum. APPCO have made it incredibly easy on me, these files aren't even encrypted.
      [sound(s) - fast typing/dist. Footsteps/inaudible. Convers./]
      Alright, let's see what we got…
      That is weird; this guy looks familiar. I think I heard about this.
      [sound - fast typing/dist. Convers.]
      Here's what it says under a picture of him. "Rick Barnum Kills Fifty-Two Students Over Yearly Period, Commits Suicide After Discovered". Yikes… and under that: "Young, 18-year-old apprentice {Barnum, Rick} of the UNSC endured a serious mental breakdown over the yearly commission and ended up slaughtering fifty-two of his pupils over a six-month timeframe. Initially this was realized when cleaners discovered three suits made of human flesh in the closet of Barnum's room. Also, records showing numerous counts of unauthorized use of the airlock confirmed creeping suspicions. When security broke into Barnum's dorm, he was found hanging from the rafters by an electric cord with his throat slit."
      Fucking hell, why weren't these murders documented? This nut… he had… SUITS of flesh. Does that mean what I think it means? He skinned those poor bastards and turned them into his own fashion line? Good god. I'm beginning to understand why the UNSC kept this under wraps, but still… sacrificing truth to keep this program going? What else are they hiding?
      I'm kinda disturbed right now, so, I'm… [voice alteration - disorder] gonna go. I'll u-update this soon. I should go find Joe and Andrea, anyways, it'll be good to see 'em again.


[journal entry #16]
[05.26.56 / 0430 hours]
[classification - orng.]

      I couldn't sleep. Just couldn't. I probably just managed to squeeze in less than four hours, it's gonna kill me tomorrow, but… I just couldn't stop thinking about what he did. How had he managed to murder fifty-two people in six months without being caught? How the hell had he managed to make a suit of flesh? That's what really gets me—APPCO must really neglect the task of checking up on their students regularly. Scary, scary shit.
      It's really dark right now, the lights are as dim as ever. The large, white surface of Molres is right outside my window, staring at me with it's dullness. It's probably safe to assume that I have a guaranteed job slaving way on the impossible power generator again. Can't wait.
      [sound - loud, abrupt creak]
      What was that? Goddamnit, the shadows are playing tricks on me. I thought I just saw… [sound - stressed laughter] the shadow of a body hanging from a ceiling. I feel like I'm in kindergarten all over again… scared of the dark, come on, Brian; quit being such a fucking baby. Memorable quote from my father. Memorable.
      I should really get back to bed and at least try to get some more sleep. I'll update after we're through with tomorrows schedule.
      [sound - slow, muffled footsteps/moving fabric]
      [time duration +120m.45sauto shut-down]
            {report 0500h - loud snoring}
            {report 0554h - electronic whirring/mumbling}
            {report 0612h - error [whisperscreamlaugh(?)]}


[journal entry #17]
[05.27.56 / 1620 hours]
[classification - red.]

      Today was incredibly tough; not only did they make me repair the generator again, they put me to work in the infirmary (which is ridiculous, I have no experience) with the doctors because they were short one person. Apparently she disappeared in the morning somewhere around 6 o'clock. Oh, well, not my loss—one less creep to worry about in this place. Besides, it's not like she actually just vanished… right? [voice alteration - nervousness] Good God, listen to me, I'm freaking out over nothing. That record of Rick planted this seed of fear in my mind and now it's sprouting by itself and I can't get the history of this shithole out of my head.
      Sorry, I'm getting sidetracked, sorry, sorry, sorry. If you're listening to this you're probably telling me to shut up and get back to reality. 'Kay, well… let's get back to my day, then.
      All I can say about the doctors and nurses working in the med bay is that they have all the right in the world to be eerie; I mean, I spent a day in their shoes, and I can't imagine going through stuff like that everyday. People are constantly getting sick from the poor conditions of the produced atmosphere, they're regularly cutting themselves on machinery and with mechanical tools, and they just can't seem to pay attention to the safety regulations—I saw one poor jackass in the infirmary today who thought not wearing a mask and welding tools go together. Judging from the liquid flesh on his face, I'm thinkin' he blinded himself from the welding device, and in panic turned it around on himself.
      Those savage burns still managed to remind me of those human suits, though, amidst all that chaos of trying to patch his face back together. It was the first thing that came to mind. That, and a vivid flashback of Barnum's pasty, craggy face. Scared the shit out of me. Not only that, but the doctors made me bandage up his neck—and I'm pretty sure I got some of his melted skin on my hand… looks like I'm slowly making a suit of my own, huh? [sound - weak laugh]
      If this keeps bothering me, and I don't end up getting any sleep tonight, I think I'll stop by the Admiral—see if I can get some information out of him. Hey, I know! I'll bring the journal, see if I can record the conversation!


[journal entry #18]
[05.28.56 / 0300 hours]
[classification - red.]

      Gobble-dee gook. Ticks… ticks and mites. Sew the night with pins and needles.


[journal entry #19]
[05.28.56 / 1844 hours]
[classification - red.]

      [sound - loud shuffling/breathing]
      Alright, I'm standing right outside the Admirals office, and I know for a fact he's in here. His assistant—one of my APPCO instructors—told me where I could find him at this hour. By the way, it's almost eight o'clock. I should be heading off to bed soon, but I got a good night's rest in; I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
      I'll be putting the journal in my bag, which I'll leave open, so I apologize if the recording turns out muffled… I can always sum up the conversation later.
      [sound - movement of journal/knocking]
      Hello? Admiral Dredurn?
      [sound - inaudible/opening door]
      {dual voice log; ID [Waite, B] Good day, Admiral.
      [ID Dredurn, C] Who are you?
      [Waite, B] I'm Brian Waite… I'm in the APPCO apprentice program.
      [Dredurn, C] Hm. I don't have time for this. Get—
      [Waite, B] It's about Rick Barnum.
      [Dredurn, C {strict}] …Sit down.
      [Waite, B -{footsteps}] Thank you, sir… uh, Admiral. There's something that's been bothering me…
      [Dredurn, C] What have you heard about Rick Barnum? What does it concern you?
      [Waite, B] Well, to be honest, sir, I was looking through the records in the library, and I found—
      [Dredurn, C {anger}] What? You were looking through private documents on the computers? Those are encrypted for a reason, you're not supposed to be nosing aro—
      [Waite, B] T-They weren't encrypted… sir.
      [Dredurn, C] What?
      [Waite, B] The files, they weren't encrypted.
      [Dredurn, C] I heard you. Did you read the entire report? Do you know what all happened?
      [Waite, B] Fifty-two people were murdered, they were used to make human coats, then deposited from the station in the airlock, then…
      [Dredurn, C] Goddamn, they really weren't encrypted, were they? I could've sworn they were locked up in the highest security folder. You're naïve, kid, naïve. You should've thought harder when looking at those. You think I'd leave top-secret shit like that just floating around? You think I want the rest of the UNSC to find out about that incident? They'll have my fucking head. They'll have all our fucking heads.
      [Waite, B] I-I'm sorry, Admiral, I didn't mean any harm, I was just curious because these janitors on the flight over told me about Rick—
      [Dredurn, C {anger}] You think I fucking care! You know what this means, don't you? You know why you got to see those 'unencrypted' files? He chose you. Rick Barnum chose you.
      [Waite, B {nervous}] I'm afraid I don't understand.
      [Dredurn, C] He chose you, don't you see! You think those files were available just because? No, they were there to sew the seed of fear. That's how he works. That's how he plays… I knew Barnum well… too well. His skill in mechanics was unmatched, and I had noticed this; I took him as my understudy… goddamn, what a mistake that was. I taught him everything to know about this station, taught him everything… how do you think he learned to use those fucking access codes to the airlock? Good God… we didn't even bother to investigate the missing people, we just sent little innocent, super-mechanic Ricky to check up on them. "They're just sick," he'd say, "probably from the poor conditions of this place." Except this station was just fine until he came along, this station was just fine. He brought something with him… something that changed everybody, and everything. Rick Barnum has been in my head since he came into this station, but now he's turned to you. If I were you, I'd try to shut him out of my mind as best as I could, otherwise he'll… he'll get to ya.
      [Waite, B] I don't know what to say, sir.
      [Dredurn, C] You won't.
      [Waite, B] I think I've heard enough—I'll be on my way. Thank you, Admiral.
      [Dredurn, C] Don't come back.
      [Waite, B] I won't…?
      [sound - muffled footsteps/opening door/movement of journal]
      What a fucking nutball.


[journal entry #20]
[05.28.56 / 1906 hours]
[classification - orng.]

      I really don't know what to say. All of that, it's bullshit. I'm beginning to feel sorry for all the people serving under him, the man is a lunatic. He's gone insane ever since all of those students were murdered, he thinks it's his fault. He's 'coming for me'? What the fuck does he mean by that, Rick Barnum is dead. Words can't explain how amusing I'm finding this. [sound - laughter]
      I'm sorry all of you had to go through that, but at least it made some of these recordings interesting, eh?
      Well, I'm going to bed, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow, but hey—at least I'm in a good mood now. Goodnight.


[journal entry #21]
[05.29.56 / 0300 hours]
[classification - red.]

      The snake lies… I am the shadow within a shadow, the reflection within a reflection. Grace you with worms. Walk among infinity with knives. [voice alteration - hiss] Ssssnnnaaakkkeeeee…


[Entries 22-26 missing]

[journal entry #27]
[06.04.56 / 1200 hours]
[classification - orng.]

      It's Tuesday today… I've been working off my ass for the last week—this isn't just frustrating anymore, it's painful. I'm starting to ache all over and migraines come all too often. Is my brain finally shutting down? Heh, hope not, I still got another eleven months to go.
      I managed to bring my journal along with me again; the instructors don't seem to care if I work on the machines and give a narration to my audio book at the same time. It keeps me busy and them out of my hair; it's win-win. Not for you guys, of course, the last three or four entries have been mainly me grunting and throwing tools around. Nothing interesting.
      There's some rumors goin' around lately, though… rumors that I've picked up at lunch break in the cafeteria. It seems more people have disappeared and not just that doctor (who, by the way, never ended up showing up). People I actually knew, too, ones that I had met on the job. I can only guess they're hanging in the form of crude fashion in a closet somewhere… [sound - weak laughter]
      Actually, come to think of it, I haven't seen Andrea around, either. I think I should check up on her dorm before the day ends (or night, can't fucking tell on this wreck).
      I'll update this shortly, gotta get back to work… lunch is almost over.


[journal entry #28]
[06.04.56 / 1640 hours]
[classification - red.]

      This thing on? Good. I need you here right now, the lights went off again and I'm by myself in the pitch black. I shouldn't have skipped out on dinner to come check, this was just… idiotic.
      [sound - footsteps/breathing]
      The moon is the only source of light right now, it's currently shining through every window I pass, but that's not enough to help me see or curb my fear that something's going to grab me. How the hell am I supposed to know if someone's watching me from the dark? How the—fuck, I'm putting ideas in my head… I'm watering the seed. [sound - hyperventilation] Andrea?
      [sound - loud creak]
      What was that? Hello?
      'Kay, I'm here, I think. I can just see the door number: A203. Please let her be in here.
      [sound - gentle knocking] Andrea? Are you in there? It's me, Brian, just wanted to check up on you, haven't seen ya late—
      [sound - automatic door opening]
      Goddamnit, I can't see anything. I'm moving into the room… feeling along the floor… there's… nothing. Nothing on the bed, under the sheets; wait, what's th—oh, just clothing. A uniform? Hmm. I don't think she's in here. Maybe she got day sick and dragged herself out of bed to go to dinner? Yeah, that's exactly what happened. I'm an idiot. I'll be going now; knowing Andrea, she wouldn't like me poking through her room without permission…
      [sound - loud creak/static]
      What was th—SHIT. SHIT.
      [sound - quick footsteps, running]
      Don't touch me! Get away! [sound - terrified scream/quick footsteps] No! Get the FUCK away. LEAVE ME ALONE!
      Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmyGOD... Gotta get back, NOW.
      [sound - hyperventilation/quick footsteps/movement of journal]


[journal entry #29]
[06.04.56 / 1720 hours]
[classification - red.]

      Shit… oh my God. Shit. Impossible.
      I-I'm at the cafeteria… just made it to dinner… trying to act as calm as possible. I can't believe what I just saw. I can't believe it. You wouldn't believe it either. You won't.
      Right when I was heading back—fuck, I'm-I'm literally shaking… right when I was finished talking to the journal, I heard this loud sound behind me, and I got this horrible sense of being threatened. Goosebumps prickled my flesh and I just… I don't know, damnit. All I remember is turning around and seeing that thing, that fucking demon, staring at me, from the room opposite of Andrea's. It's pure-white eyes drilled into my skull, my MIND…
      I just ran. I fucking booked it. You heard it all. It was this close to touching me. I saw its entire hand and the forearm, all illuminated by the moonlight… it was rotten flesh—rotten flesh that's been sewn together.
      I can't talk right now. The Admiral was right. That insane bastard was right. I'll update this soon… I'll update whenever I can patch together the remains of my reasoning.
      Lord, help me.


End of Part 1