[Intro Theme]
ANNOUNCER
Rusty Quill Presents: The Magnus Protocol.
Episode Fifty – Deep Trouble.
[Music]
[Click]
[Two sets of cautious footsteps in the zone, which sounds more active than normal]
WARDEN CALLUM
Nothing. Clear?
[WARDEN OLIVIA pushes a metal bucket with her foot to look beneath it]
WARDEN OLIVIA
Clear.
WARDEN CALLUM
(into radio) Quadrant Bravo, section fourteen, clear.
MELANIE
(from radio) Copy team three. Proceed to section thirteen.
WARDEN CALLUM
Copy.
[They keep moving slowly]
WARDEN OLIVIA
So you hoping to find it or miss it?
WARDEN CALLUM
What d’you mean?
WARDEN OLIVIA
Feels good to bag a horror, but this sounds rough. So would you rather get the credit or steer clear?
WARDEN CALLUM
Depends how it feels about getting shot.
WARDEN OLIVIA
You might be in luck then. Rumour is this one used to be human.
[They continue to sweep the area]
[The Archivist, unnoticed, manifests alongside them]
WARDEN CALLUM
Rumour is this one used to be a very particular human.
WARDEN OLIVIA
Ah you heard that too, eh? You believe it?
WARDEN CALLUM
I dunno. I hope not, but they’re using the A word, so it’s definitely not nothing.
WARDEN OLIVIA
Mm.
WARDEN CALLUM
Feel like we’d know if he was back, though. Like it would feel different.
WARDEN OLIVIA
Different? Different how?
WARDEN CALLUM
Like the world was ending again.
WARDEN OLIVIA
It doesn’t feel like that to you?
[The Archivist engulfs Warden Callum. Warden Olivia doesn’t notice.]
WARDEN OLIVIA
I mean, I’ve never seen the zone this bad. Not since right after Towerfall. Even then you could generally believe what you were seeing. Now… I dunno.
You recognize that door? The one with the peephole? ‘Cause I’ve patrolled this section for years and I don’t recognize it. I’m not even going near it because I know if I turn my head this way and back… Yup. It’s gone. Just another mirage. So yeah, it does kind of feel…
Callum?
[Nothing.]
(into radio) Callum, sitrep. Do you copy?
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio) I’m down… Deep down…
WARDEN OLIVIA
(into radio) Callum, thank Christ, are you –
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio, droning) …Down below the waves that crash above in roiling icy walls –
WARDEN OLIVIA
(realising) Shit! Callum!
WARDEN CALLUM
– that reach for ships to bend and curl and drag to the cold black depths –
WARDEN OLIVIA
(into recorder) Control, this is –
[There are three gunshots and then WARDEN OLIVIA dies. Bitten by fog with teeth.]
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio, droning) – but it is nothing to me, in my iron tomb that cruises sleek and deadly through the brine…
I am in my cell, my bunk, my bed that presses up so hard against the icy metal of the bulkhead that no more than an inch of rust-pocked steel stands between the crushing abyss and my tiny, shivering body.
And I do shiver as the pressure builds and the captain’s voice drones from the squat speakers in the shadowed corners of every compartment. It is distorted, cracking, but I know he is demanding loyalty over and over.
The sound vibrates the tinpot medal on my chest, and blood oozes from the holes the pins punched into my skin when they stuck it there, for my dutiful service.
My duty is on the bridge, the command deck, the wheelhouse. I am to sit at the radio and call for help, call for orders, call for anyone to hear us through countless fathoms of dark water and infinite miles of empty air.
The captain will stare at me with his empty sockets and when he tears the tannoy mouthpiece from his jaw with a wet tearing pop, he will swap to dictating messages through his bloody saliva. Messages that will not be received and cannot be replied to. Messages that make no sense and simply scream of Poseidon, of Neptune, of Mazu, of Leviathan, of Susanoo, of wet and sightless water gods I do not know but which tremble through my stomach when I am forced to repeat the names into empty radio waves.
Test of the crew scuttle and crawl across their stations, doing their duty in the thick red light. Sometimes one of them will approach the periscope. They will put their faces to the hungry eyepiece and then they will begin to scream. You cannot see their eyes behind the metal tube, but you can hear them being taken. Then the skull begins to crack and implode gradually crushing itself into a thin pink paste as it feeds itself into the periscope. Then the torso, shoulders, arms, going all the way down. The order is different each time, but it always ends the same, with the gorged periscope dragging itself contentedly up into the dark, sated for a while.
I do not know our mission, although sometimes the missiles whisper to me in my sleep. They want me to come to them, to open them, to take their payloads into my heart. They can help, they say. They can keep me safe. I want to believe them, but my flesh melts when I embrace them, and it sticks to their hulls when I pull myself away.
When we reach our destination the mission will begin, and we will do something terrible. Something unforgivable. Something that will scar our souls in ways that will leave us other than human. But unless someone answers my hopeless calls for new orders, the only thing that can stop us is a mine or a depth charge.
If that happens, a terrible, wounding vibration will shove through the submarine. The sound deafening inside and echoing through the water outside. Those closest will be killed instantly to the envy of all. The rest of us will flee in this sealed tube crying out for mother’s love and salvation as the pressure spikes and water tears and the doors buckle from the icy fist of the deep ocean. Doors that stay just sturdy enough to imprison those who fell behind, who lingered a second too long in morbid fascination of their doom. Not sturdy enough to muffle their cries for help that linger long after they have drowned and frozen and pounded their heads to pulp upon the wheel lock.
Where there is not water there is fire filling the rusted oven of warped and twisting metal. It feasts on the sparse oxygen, yanking the very air from your lungs to burn it in front of you.
Again if you’re lucky you catch fire and die in the brightness, with your own fat burning like candlewax. Otherwise the darkness of the seabed awaits…
This time I am in my cell, my bunk, my bed as the depth charge hits. I see the bulkhead metal twist and bend but not break, instead pressing in.
[As Warden Callum speaks, the perspective slowly shifts back to radio]
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio) Folding and squeezing, its rivets popping, my rivets popping, and no more air can reach me…
GEORGIE
Anything?
[Sam picks up a gun from the rubble]
SAM
Found a gun?
GEORGIE
Damn it! Where is he?
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio) And even as I breathe my last and fear floods my soul I know I cannot call for help. I spent all my pleas into a dead and silent radio.
SAM
Where now?
GEORGIE
I don’t know! I don’t recognize any of this!
WARDEN CALLUM
(from radio, weaker) It’s just life, after all. It’s all it can be. It feels like… this… for everyone…
[Silence.]
GEORGIE
Callum! Callum, no!
[More silence.]
SAM
What do we do?
GEORGIE
I don’t –
SAM
Georgie, I need you.
[She focuses up]
GEORGIE
We keep hunting. Callum knew the risks and –
[She slaps a gun barrel away from her as Sam handles it poorly]
GEORGIE
God, have you ever even held a gun before?
SAM
I did clay pigeon on a stag do once?
GEORGIE
Right, well, rule one. Keep it pointing away from your mates. Rule two, you need to hold it properly.
[She adjusts his grip]
GEORGIE
Tight to the shoulder, otherwise you’ll break your arm.
SAM
Better?
[She doesn’t answer]
SAM
Georgie?
GEORGIE
This isn’t right.
SAM
What do you – Georgie, look out!
GEORGIE
(spinning) What?!
SAM
Behind y– wait… No, wait, it’s gone. I was certain I saw…
GEORGIE
That’s what’s wrong. Everything is getting mixed up. Old passages with new dead ends, new doors in old ruins.
MELANIE
(distant) Georgie!
SAM
So is that really Melanie or…?
GEORGIE
(calling) Over here!
[Melanie and Basira approach]
GEORGIE
Basira! I told you to watch the perimeter!
BASIRA
I’m not one of your Wardens, you don’t get to give me orders. Besides, Melanie needed an escort.
GEORGIE
And what is Melanie doing out here?
MELANIE
We’ve been trying to get you on the radio, but Callum has been jamming every frequency.
GEORGIE
What’s happened?
MELANIE
It’s that girl you brought in, Alice? She’s gone.
SAM
What do you mean gone?
MELANIE
I mean she’s gone. She wasn’t a prisoner, so she just walked out while we were distracted.
GEORGIE
Christ.
MELANIE
It gets worse. I’ve been trying to correlate the positions people have been reporting…
GEORGIE
And?
MELANIE
They don’t make any sense and no one else seems to realise.
BASIRA
Nobody is where they think they are. Melanie is the only one who doesn’t seem to be affected. I think it might be because… you know…
MELANIE
You can say blind, Basira, it’s not a rude word. Look, the point is that nobody can trust their eyes in here. I think the Archivist is using them.
GEORGIE
Goddamn it. We’re not prepped for this amount of bullshit.
(into the radio) All wardens, mission aborted, fall back. I repeat, all wardens, we are falling back to base. Enemy is using visual manipulation so follow only known routes. And if you see a female civilian wearing a medical gown, call it in but do not approach.
[There is a chorus of “copy”s over the radio]
SAM
What about us?
BASIRA
We follow Melanie.
MELANIE
You’re welcome.
[They start to move slowly, following the tapping of Melanie’s cane]
SAM
So if the Archivist can control our eyes, does that mean he can see out of them?
BASIRA
I really hope not. I’m not doing that Elias shit again.
SAM
What?
GEORGIE
Ignore her. Things are confused enough as it is.
MELANIE
Shut your eyes if you’re worried about it, Sam. It’s not like they’re helping.
[They continue, the tapping of the cane leading the way]
[There is an ominous cracking sound from below them]
SAM
Um. You all felt that, right, because I have my eyes shut, so…
MELANIE
Georgie I think we need to –
[They cry out as the ground gives way beneath them and they fall]
[Click.]
[Click]
[Sam and Melanie lie amongst the rubble of the collapsed roof. They both groan.]
SAM
(pained) Melanie?
MELANIE
Alive.
[She moves, but winces]
MELANIE
Think my arm’s broken, though. Can you move?
[Sam tries. It takes time as he is partially buried and the rocks are unsteady]
SAM
Yeah. I think I’m alright.
[He hisses in pain]
SAM
Mostly. What happened?
MELANIE
We fell. London always had a warren underneath it, and after years without upkeep…
SAM
You can fall through.
MELANIE
Especially if the Zone is… agitated.
SAM
Where are the others?
MELANIE
Good question.
SAM
(shouting) Georgie!? Basira!?
MELANIE
Don’t! You don’t know what else is listening.
[Beat]
SAM
Sorry.
MELANIE
Now if you’re done trying to get the attention of every monster in the zone, I need your help.
[Sam goes over and examines Melanie]
SAM
(digging) Okay, it doesn’t look too bad, but it’s going to need a sling. Bear with me.
MELANIE
Thanks.
[Sam fashions a sling for Melanie as he talks]
SAM
Do you think you can still get us out of the Zone?
MELANIE
I don’t know. Above ground, maybe, but down here…
[An ominous breeze]
MELANIE
…Do you feel that?
SAM
Yeah…
MELANIE
Can you see anything?
SAM
I don’t –
[The Archivist manifests]
SAM
(hushed and afraid) It’s here.
[The Archivist roils forward]
ARCHIVIST
Sam…
SAM
Get away from me!
MELANIE
John? John, is that you?
ARCHIVIST
…
(tasting the word) John… No… Archivist…
MELANIE
(bravely) Archivist, answer me! Are you – Were you once a man named Jonathan Sims?
ARCHIVIST
(slightly distastefully) Sims… Sims.
…
No. I am not… Sims. But I have his story.
MELANIE
Huh. I guess I owe Georgie a drink.
[The Archivist looms]
SAM
So if you’re not Jonathan Sims, then who are you?
ARCHIVIST
(almost laughing) Who am I? I am the one who asks Sam… Who are you?
[Sam starts resisting]
MELANIE
Sam!
ARCHIVIST
(compelling) Speak.
SAM
(resisting) When I was five years old… my mother took me to a zoo… I don’t remember the name of it, and afterwards she wouldn’t tell me. It smelt wrong –
[Footsteps charge in from a nearby tunnel]
ALICE
Get away from him!
[She tackles the Archivist hard]
[Sam is released and he falls, panting]
SAM
Alice! No!
[Sounds of struggle]
BASIRA
(distant) This way! I hear something!
MELANIE
(calling) Here! We’re over here!
GEORGIE
(distant) Melanie!
[Sounds of struggle end – the Archivist has caught Alice]
ARCHIVIST
(to Alice) Alice…
ALICE
(overpowered) Maybe… Who’s asking?
ARCHIVIST
(examining her) Your story. It is told and tired.
ALICE
Sorry to disappoint…
SAM
(helpless) Alice…
ALICE
Sam. I love –
[The Archivist breaks Alice with disdain, dropping her corpse to the ground.]
SAM
No!
GEORGIE
(closer) This way, come on!
[The Archivist wheels about, considers, then begins to fade]
ARCHIVIST
Lucky Sam… Lucky, lucky, lucky…
[The ominous wind blows and with it, the Archivist disappears]
BASIRA
(closer) I found them!
SAM
Alice…
[Click.]
[Click]
[We’re back at headquarters, in the medical ward]
[Melanie cries out as Georgie fixes her arm]
GEORGIE
And… There we go.
MELANIE
I hate this medical shit.
GEORGIE
Most people would kill to have access to all this “medical shit.” You’re lucky it was only dislocated. It could have been a lot worse.
SAM
(hollow) It was.
[Pause]
BASIRA
I’m sorry. If we’d found you earlier…
SAM
It wouldn’t have made a difference. If Alice hadn’t – Then I’d be the one in the morgue right now.
…I know she wasn’t my Alice. But she was still Alice. And I – There was nothing – She didn’t deserve that.
BASIRA
No one ever does.
[Silence.]
GEORGIE
Listen, I know we’re hurting. I know we just want to call it a day and lick our wounds. But we still need to figure out what we’re going to do about the Archivist.
BASIRA
Georgie –
SAM
No. She’s right.
GEORGIE
…
You’re sure it wasn’t him, Melanie?
MELANIE
Positive. It actively denied it, and besides, that voice… it’s not him.
GEORGIE
Right, well, I’ll take that as a win for now, but we still don’t have a way to track it or kill it and with all these new powers in the zone… we’re going to struggle.
MELANIE
Yeah.
BASIRA
That’s not our only problem.
GEORGIE
More bad news?
BASIRA
I noticed something as we were coming out. I didn’t trust my eyes, so I had a couple of wardens confirm it later.
MELANIE
What?
BASIRA
You know that slight warping effect at the edge of the zone?
GEORGIE
The shimmer, yeah, what about it?
BASIRA
It’s moved.
GEORGIE
What do you mean it’s moved –
BASIRA
It’s at least a meter beyond the fencing already.
[They digest this]
SAM
It’s the Archivist. It has to be.
BASIRA
Yeah. I think the zone has been growing since it arrived and now…
GEORGIE
Oh, fuck.
[Click.]
[Music]
ANNOUNCER
The Magnus Protocol is a podcast distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution Non-Commercial Sharealike 4.0 International License. The series is created by Jonathan Sims and Alexander J Newall, and directed by Alexander J Newall.
This episode was written by Jonathan Sims and edited with additional materials by Alexander J Newall, with vocal edits by Lowri Ann Davies, soundscaping by Tessa Vroom, and mastering by Catherine Rinella with music by Sam Jones.
It featured Shahan Hamza as Samama Khalid, Sasha Sienna as Georgie Barker, Lydia Nicholas as Melanie King, Billie Hindle as Alice Dyer, with additional voices from Beth Eyre.
The Magnus Protocol is produced by April Sumner, with executive producers Alexander J Newall, Dani McDonough, Linn Ci, and Samantha F.G. Hamilton, and Associate Producers Jordan L. Hawk, Taylor Michaels, Nicole Perlman, Cetius d’Raven, and Megan Nice.
To subscribe, view associated materials, or join our Patreon, visit rustyquill.com. Rate and review us online, tweet us @therustyquill, visit us on facebook or email us at mail@rustyquill.com.
Thanks for listening.