The biological weapons file contained documents that made Marcus's previous discoveries seem almost mundane by comparison. Dr. Voss hadn't just been conducting psychiatric experiments—she had been developing weaponized pathogens for multiple government agencies.
The file detailed something called "Project Blackwood"—a program to create biological agents that could modify human behavior through insect vectors. Marcus found technical specifications for genetically modified mosquitoes, designed to carry experimental compounds that would alter brain chemistry in targeted populations.
But these documents were just the beginning. The files referenced laboratory facilities, surgical suites, and experimental equipment that he hadn't yet located. If he was going to expose the full scope of what had happened at Blackwood, he needed to find the physical evidence of the crimes—the actual laboratories where these biological weapons had been developed.
Marcus consulted the building schematics he'd found in the administrative offices, but they showed only the main floors and the standard basement level. According to Dale's information, Dr. Voss had maintained private facilities in sub-basement levels that didn't appear on any official plans. The biological weapons research would have required specialized containment facilities, hidden from any casual inspection.
The inflammation on his arm had spread further, now extending from his wrist to his shoulder, but strangely, Marcus found that it was bothering him less than before. The burning sensation that had been so distracting earlier seemed to have faded into a dull background awareness. He attributed this to the ibuprofen he'd taken, though he couldn't remember the medication being quite so effective in the past.
As he explored the basement level more systematically, Marcus began to notice architectural inconsistencies that suggested hidden spaces. Corridors that should have continued straight ahead ended in walls that seemed too recent to be original construction. Storage rooms that appeared too small for the amount of space they should occupy. And most telling, sections of the building where the original blueprints showed structural elements that weren't visible in the current layout.
The biological weapons documentation had mentioned "Level 3 biosafety protocols" and "contained atmospheric systems"—terminology that suggested sophisticated underground facilities designed to handle dangerous pathogens safely.
It was near the building's central core that Marcus found what he was looking for. Behind a heavy metal door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" was a service corridor that led to an elevator shaft he hadn't seen before. The elevator car was larger than the ones serving the main building, with brass fixtures that spoke of significant expense and heavy-duty construction designed to transport equipment rather than just people.
The elevator required a special key, one that Dale had included in his collection with specific warnings about what Marcus might find below. As he inserted the key and pressed the call button, Marcus felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. Whatever Dr. Voss had been doing in the sub-basement levels, it had been important enough to hide from official oversight and expensive enough to require special construction.
The elevator car arrived with a mechanical grinding that suggested decades of disuse. The interior was lined with stainless steel, and the control panel included buttons for levels marked only as "SB-1," "SB-2," and "SB-3." Marcus pressed the button for SB-1, and the elevator began its descent with a motion that seemed to take much longer than it should have.
When the doors finally opened, Marcus found himself in a corridor that looked nothing like the rest of the asylum. The walls were lined with white tile, and the floor was polished concrete designed for easy cleaning. But the clinical appearance was undermined by the institutional green paint that had been applied over everything, giving the space a sick, underwater quality that was somehow more oppressive than the decay of the upper floors.
The air in the sub-basement was different too—thicker, more humid, and carrying scents that Marcus couldn't identify. There was the expected mustiness of an underground space, but also something chemical and medicinal that reminded him of a hospital laboratory. And underneath it all, a sweetish smell that made his stomach turn.
Marcus began exploring the sub-basement systematically, using his flashlight to illuminate corridors that stretched further than he'd expected. The first rooms he encountered were clearly medical facilities—examination rooms with equipment that looked more sophisticated than anything he'd seen in the main building, a pharmacy with locked cabinets that still contained bottles of unknown substances, and what appeared to be a small surgical suite.
But it was the deeper rooms that revealed the true nature of Dr. Voss's work. Marcus found chambers that had obviously been designed for sensory deprivation—small, windowless rooms with padded walls and floors that could be completely sealed off from external stimuli. The padding was stained with substances he didn't want to identify, and the walls were covered with scratch marks that suggested desperate attempts to escape.
In one of these chambers, Marcus found evidence of the experiments described in the patient files. Restraint devices were built into the walls, with leather straps and metal cuffs designed to immobilize subjects completely. Electrodes were mounted in the ceiling and walls, connected to equipment that could deliver electrical stimulation to specific parts of the body. And most disturbing of all, there were drains in the floor that suggested the chambers had been designed to be hosed down after use.
Marcus photographed everything but found himself working more mechanically than usual. The clinical horror of what he was seeing should have affected him more strongly, but he felt strangely detached from his emotional responses. It was as if the building's atmosphere was numbing his reactions, making it easier to document the evidence without being overwhelmed by its implications.
As he moved deeper into the sub-basement, Marcus began to see movement in his peripheral vision. At first, he dismissed it as shadows cast by his flashlight beam, but the movement became more distinct and obviously human. Figures seemed to be walking through the corridors just beyond the edge of his vision, always disappearing when he turned to look directly.
The figures were indistinct but clearly human in shape and movement. They appeared to be wearing the kind of institutional clothing that patients would have worn—loose-fitting shirts and pants in neutral colors. Some walked slowly, as if heavily sedated, while others moved with the jerky, unnatural gait of people whose motor functions had been damaged. Marcus told himself that he was experiencing visual hallucinations brought on by stress and the building's oppressive atmosphere, but the figures seemed too real, too consistent in their behavior.
It was on the second sub-basement level that Marcus found Dr. Voss's private laboratory. The room was larger than anything he'd seen in the upper levels, with multiple examination tables and enough equipment to perform complex medical procedures. But it was the sophistication of the equipment that truly impressed him—this wasn't the primitive medical technology he'd expected from the 1980s, but cutting-edge research apparatus that looked decades ahead of its time.
The laboratory contained equipment for brain surgery that was far more advanced than anything that should have existed in the 1980s. Microscopic surgical tools, computer-controlled devices for precise electrode placement, and monitoring equipment that could track brain activity in real-time. There were also machines that Marcus couldn't identify—devices with multiple screens, complex control panels, and connections to what appeared to be biological storage systems.
But it was the sensory deprivation equipment that truly disturbed him. The laboratory contained chambers that made the rooms he'd seen earlier look primitive by comparison. These were sophisticated isolation tanks, filled with solutions that could completely cut off all external stimuli while monitoring the subject's vital signs and brain activity. The tanks were connected to computer systems that could record and analyze the subject's responses to various stimuli, creating detailed maps of their psychological and neurological reactions.
Marcus found detailed schematics for the sensory deprivation experiments, showing how subjects would be placed in the tanks for extended periods while electrodes monitored their brain activity. The goal, according to the documentation, was to break down the subject's sense of self and external reality, making them more susceptible to psychological manipulation and memory implantation.
The chemical experimentation equipment was equally sophisticated. Dr. Voss had maintained a complete pharmaceutical laboratory, with equipment for synthesizing complex organic compounds and testing their effects on living tissue. Hundreds of bottles lined the shelves, containing substances that ranged from standard medical compounds to experimental drugs that had never been approved for human use.
Marcus found detailed records of the chemical experiments, showing how various compounds had been tested on patients to determine their effects on memory, personality, and behavior. The goal had been to develop drugs that could selectively erase memories, implant false experiences, or alter fundamental personality characteristics. The records showed that many of these experiments had been successful, at least from Dr. Voss's perspective.
As Marcus worked through the laboratory, he became increasingly aware that the figures he saw were becoming more distinct. What had started as shadows in his peripheral vision were now clearly recognizable as human forms. He could make out faces, expressions, and even specific details of clothing and physical appearance. The figures seemed to be patients from different eras of the asylum's operation, representing decades of victims who had been subjected to Dr. Voss's experiments.
The strangest thing was that Marcus no longer felt particularly disturbed by these apparitions. The inflammation on his arm had continued to spread, but the pain had faded to a barely noticeable background sensation. He felt increasingly detached from his physical discomfort and emotional responses, as if the building's atmosphere was somehow muting his normal human reactions.
One figure in particular caught his attention. A woman in her thirties, wearing a patient gown and moving with the careful, deliberate steps of someone who had been heavily medicated. She appeared to be Asian, with features that reminded Marcus of his aunt Lin. The woman seemed to be trying to communicate with him, pointing toward specific areas of the laboratory and moving her lips as if speaking, though Marcus couldn't hear any words.
Following the woman's gestures, Marcus found a storage area that contained what appeared to be biological samples. Hundreds of containers lined the shelves, each one labeled with a patient name and date. The containers held tissue samples, blood specimens, and what appeared to be portions of brain tissue preserved in chemical solutions. Marcus realized that Dr. Voss had been collecting biological material from her experimental subjects, building a library of human specimens for her research.
The biological storage area contained samples dating back to the 1960s, suggesting that Dr. Voss's experiments had been going on for much longer than the official records indicated. Marcus found samples labeled with names he recognized from the patient files—Sarah Mills, Tommy Rodriguez, Eleanor Blackwood, and dozens of others. Each container represented a life that had been destroyed in the name of scientific research.
But it was the samples labeled with more recent dates that truly disturbed Marcus. Some of the containers were dated as recently as the 1990s, years after the asylum had supposedly been closed. Either Dr. Voss had continued her experiments in secret, or someone else had carried on her work after her disappearance.
As Marcus documented the biological samples, he became aware of changes in his own perception. Colors seemed more vivid, sounds were clearer, and he found himself noticing details that he hadn't seen before. The laboratory equipment seemed to be humming with a kind of electrical energy, and the air itself appeared to shimmer with an almost visible presence.
The figures he was seeing were no longer just peripheral shadows—they were standing directly in front of him, watching him work with expressions of curiosity and what might have been gratitude. Marcus found himself nodding to them, acknowledging their presence as if they were living colleagues rather than hallucinations. The interaction felt completely natural, as if the boundary between the living and the dead had become permeable within the asylum's walls.
One of the figures—a young man who appeared to be in his twenties—approached Marcus directly and seemed to be trying to show him something. The young man pointed toward a section of the laboratory that Marcus hadn't yet explored, gesturing urgently as if there was something important he needed to see.
Following the young man's directions, Marcus found a computer terminal that was still functional despite the building's lack of power. The terminal was connected to what appeared to be a backup power system, and the screen showed a menu of files and programs that documented Dr. Voss's research in detail. The computer contained thousands of files, including video recordings of experimental procedures, detailed analysis of their results, and correspondence with government agencies and research institutions.
Marcus began downloading the files to his USB, but found the process strangely effortless. His hands moved over the keyboard with unusual precision, and he seemed to understand the computer system intuitively despite never having seen it before. The inflammation on his arm had spread to his shoulder and was beginning to affect his chest, but he felt no discomfort at all—only a strange sense of enhanced capability and awareness.
The video files were particularly disturbing. They showed patients being subjected to the procedures described in the written records, but seeing the actual experiments made their brutality undeniable. Marcus watched footage of brain surgery being performed on conscious patients, sensory deprivation experiments that lasted for weeks, and chemical treatments that reduced human beings to vegetative states.
But what disturbed him most was that he found himself watching the footage with clinical detachment rather than emotional horror. The procedures were undeniably brutal, but Marcus felt as if he was observing them from a scientific perspective rather than a human one. It was as if the building's atmosphere was changing his fundamental responses to violence and suffering.
As he worked through the computer files, Marcus became aware that the figures around him were becoming more active. They were no longer just watching him work—they were participating in his research, pointing out important files, guiding his attention to significant details, and even seeming to operate some of the equipment. The collaboration felt completely natural, as if he was part of a research team that transcended the boundaries between life and death.
The young man who had shown him the computer terminal appeared to be Tommy Rodriguez, the teenager whose file Marcus had read earlier. Tommy seemed to be trying to show him something specific, pointing toward a section of the laboratory that contained what appeared to be more recent equipment. The technology in this area was even more advanced than what Marcus had seen elsewhere, suggesting that Dr. Voss's research had continued to evolve long after the asylum's official closure.
In this section of the laboratory, Marcus found equipment that seemed designed for genetic manipulation and biological warfare research. Complex machines were connected to incubation systems, chemical synthesis apparatus, and what appeared to be biological production facilities. The setup suggested that Dr. Voss had been developing biological agents that could be weaponized for military or intelligence purposes.
The most disturbing discovery was a series of containers that appeared to contain living biological material. The containers were connected to life support systems and maintained at carefully controlled temperatures and atmospheric conditions. Marcus realized that Dr. Voss had been cultivating biological agents, possibly using them to conduct experiments on patients or to develop weapons for government use.
As Marcus documented this equipment, he became aware that his perception of time had become distorted. He felt as if he had been in the laboratory for only minutes, but his watch showed that hours had passed. The inflammation on his arm had spread to cover most of his upper body, but he felt no pain or discomfort—only a strange sense of enhanced awareness and capability.
The figures around him were becoming more solid and interactive. Marcus found himself having conversations with them, discussing the research they had been subjected to and the implications of Dr. Voss's work. The conversations felt completely natural, as if he was interviewing living witnesses rather than experiencing hallucinations.
Marcus saved the final batch of files to his USB drive and looked around the laboratory one last time. There was still more to explore—the third sub-basement level awaited, and the answers he sought lay deeper still.