I Monitor a Tunnel That Reopens Every Night After Being Sealed

This podcast takes you on a journey through the SCP Foundation Archives, where strange anomalies, secret experiments, and unsettling mysteries collide.

“Let's just say it's not for the faint of heart. Be sure to search for the SCP Experience wherever you get your podcasts.”

Dr. Naysley. Close it up, boys! I see Mason, the formant, shout, twirling his hand in the air. "We got places to go, people to see!" This elicits a groan from the work crew.

They've heard this from him every evening for six straight years, those who have stuck around at least. I've been here for all six years, ever since the tunnel was discovered. Ever since everyone realized it needed to be sealed, constantly needed to be sealed. "Hey Mason!" "I yell at the guy. I watch his shoulder slump. He tries to pretend he doesn't hear me, and starts talking to one of the workers as the crew prepares to reseal the tunnel."

" Mason!" "I yell again." "I got a question for you!" A couple of the crew look around the formant and over it me as I sit in my little guard house. It was built on the side of the old road leading into the tunnel.

I smile and wave. One of the workers rolls his eyes, the other, just shakes his head. "Mason!" "A yell at third time." "Old your damn horses crane!"

"Mason finally responds." "I'm working here!" "He's not working, he's chatting. It's about all he does these days, other than his rousing little places to go, speech." "Sealing the tunnel is an automatic thing, and doesn't really require a formant." "Hell, I could tell the crew what to do at this point, since I've watched it happen every night."

"Except for the occasional vacation that is, which I could really use right now, one was the last time I took a vacation, one was the last time I took a single night off, you know, clue. It all runs together, you know what I mean?" "Togging to yourself, crane!"

"Mason asks, as he saunteres up to my guard house, leaning his shoulder against the open door. Always, I'm reply."

"Mason makes the time pass by that much quicker!" "Mason looks over his shoulder, as his crew sets up the massive steel plate that seals the tunnel. It'll just be back on the road in a couple of hours, but oh well. Not much anyone can do about that. When Mason looks back at me, he has a glint in his eye." "Hey, so I've been meaning to talk to you about something." "He says, looking his lips."

“"Oh, I've been meaning to talk to you, too. That's why I called you over here!"”

"He licks his lips again, then frowns. Mason doesn't like being reminded that, technically. I'm in charge, since I run the monitoring protocol for the tunnel." "Right, you called me!" "He says with an attitude." "Shude, what you got from me, crane?" "Well, you know, you set up that huge plate every evening, vaulting it back into place, sealing the edges with that foam the company gave you?"

"That's crane, I know all that. Kind of got some guys doing it right now." "Yeah, I know, I know. It's just, I was thinking. What if you didn't? I'm sorry. What if you didn't bother doing any of this?" "Just left the plate on the ground where it'll end up anyway." "In my professional opinion, sealing the tunnel seems like a huge waste of time and resources. Especially since I make sure nothing comes out of there." "I shrug. Well, it doesn't get very far at least."

"Mason nods, like he's thinking it over. Then he lifts his fists in the air." "Here's your answer, and you can quote me." "He says as both of his middle fingers slowly rise from his fists, giving me the old, too gun salute." "Cute!" "I say, and try to act like I'm amused."

"But I'm serious." "You're trying to get me fired, that it crane. You want all these hard work and fellas to lose their jobs, too?" "What? Now, of course not."

“"Well, if we stop sealing the tunnel every evening, then that's what will happen."”

"We'll all go on unemployment. Probably lose our houses, our cars. Maybe even our families. Considering the toll of financial hardships can take on marriages, you married crane?" "I can't say that I am."

"Kids? No, sir. Never had the opportunity for a family."

"You can't understand." "He rubs his face and glances back at the work being done. Two men are standing on either side of the massive plate, motioning and yelling at the crane operator, setting the piece in place. The Mason looks back at me." "You mentioned this to the company yet."

"Oh, no. Definitely not. I wanted to run it by you first. Get your take on the idea. My take is leave it alone, crane. You do your job and let me do my job." "But I'm sure you and your crew can find something else. A more meaningful job." "More meaningful? What the hell are you on about? Do you know how well

holidays off, not a bad gig. Two bad you don't work seven days. Leicester is not a pleasant man.

“And his crew leaves trash everywhere. I'll talk to him about that. And yeah, you are right.”

He's not a pleasant man. But it allows me one day off each week to spend with my family." "He emphasizes the word "family." And I get the hint." "Okay. Sorry. I'll drop it." "I say. Good. He replies. He lifts his lips again." "So, that thing I wanted to talk to you about?" "Yeah. Look out!" "A man's shouts and workers scrambled to get out of the way as one of the cables lifting the

plate into place snaps, sending the whole thing spinning, then falling as the sudden shift in balance upsets the crane's footing. "Get out of there. Get out of there!"

Mason shouts, waving his hands over his head as he runs for the tunnel.

"I log the incident in my work journal. Then watch as the crew all jump back and press their hands over their ears. I know exactly what'll happen. And I cover my ears, too. Even though I'm used to the plate falling each and every night. At least this time I get a heads up. Usually, I'm surprised to death by the noise the damn thing makes. When the plate slams to the ground, I feel the impact in my teeth. And even with my ears covered, it's a horrendous painful sound.

After the reverberations have settled, and Mason finishes shouting at his guys, he walks back to my guardhouse, shrugging the whole way. "Man, that is one awful noise!" "He says. "Yes it is. I reply. And it's my asking for the tunnel not to be sealed." "He frowns and raises an eyebrow." "I saw." "Because I have to live with that plate falling every

single night, and never with a warning like that." "I stick a pinky finger in my ear and

give it a twist and wiggle. Then pull it out." "Probably going to be deaf soon." "Yeah well, what you're going to do. She'd happen's crane. But doesn't have to happen. I mean, what if you and your guys showed up like usual and just didn't seal the tunnel? Not the job. I know, I know, but it could be. Crane, I don't have time for this. Got my daughter's ballet

“recital later. The plate gets set in place like always. That's what I get paid for. That's what”

I make sure happens. I know, I know, but listen. What I wanted to talk to you about is, you sure you won't even consider it. I ask. "Jesus, Crane, will you shut up and listen?" "I hold up my hands and lean back on my stool." "Sorry. What do you want to talk about?" Mason steps into the guardhouse, which really only has room for one person. I have to pull my legs back against the stool to give him room. He glances out the windows, seeing that everyone is occupied,

then leans in closer to me. So, there are going to be these guys coming by tonight. Guys, what guys? You ever heard of the paranormal? I shake my head. I didn't figure you would have, but there's some big deal on YouTube. My son watches their videos all the time. I guess he made some comment that his pop runs the crew that closes the legendary Hampshire tunnel every evening. Hampshire tunnel. What's that? I ask. He blinks at me for a few seconds,

extremely confused. Then, without taking his eyes off me, he points out the window. That crane, that's the Hampshire tunnel. It is? I didn't know it out of name. He takes a deep breath, then puffing out his cheeks, let's adults slowly. You are a piece of work, Crane. Thanks. Not a compliment. Oh. Anyway, these guys found out I run this crew and reached out to me, asking if they could have access to the tunnel.

How do you mean? I mean, they come here and film the tunnel before it reopens. As it reopens,

“then they go inside. Do their YouTube video thing, and that's that. That's what.”

That. They come film, then leave. Nothing to worry about. No bothered anyone. He leans in further, and I can smell tuna salad on his breath. You sit here, do nothing. Let them do whatever it is they do, and I'll cut you in. Come here. Give you a piece. A piece? Christ, Crane, how dense can a guy get? I'll give you some of the cash they're giving me. A percentage. Oh. I look out the window, which isn't easy with Mason in my face.

Nah, I'm good. Thank you though. His eyes narrow. You're good? What the hell does that mean? Are you saying no? Yep. That's exactly what I'm saying. No. I have strict orders. Nothing in, nothing out. That's my job. You get paid to seal off the tunnel, and I get paid to make sure the tunnel isn't disturbed when it reopens. We're talking at good, chuck at change here, Crane. Like a couple of Benjamin's in your pocket. All for doing

absolutely nothing. But doing nothing isn't my job. You sure about that? All you do is sit in this

I just smile at him. What happens after the tunnel reopens is not his business. He's not

authorized or privy to that information. Now thank you. But I appreciate you considering me to be part of your scheme. It's not a scheme. Jesus, Crane. What the hell is wrong with you? I'm sorry. I got a daughter heading to college. I got the one in ballet. Another is set on being a horse girl. Whatever that is. And my son is growing so fast that he's eating me out of house and home.

“I need the cash, Crane. I thought the company paid you well. For a moment, I think he's going to”

punch me. Then he leans back, mixes lips for the umpteenth time and steps out of the guardhouse. He points a finger at me. His eyes all angry. They'll be here after sundown. I told them not to be late.

You're going to let them do their thing. Sorry, Mason. But I can't do that. Company policy. Plus,

it's not safe. That's safe. Nothing comes out of that tunnel. You want a scheme, huh? Is that what you're looking for? The whole job is a scheme. The company takes millions from the government to seal a tunnel every single day that refuses to stay sealed. How is this even possible? How is the company not fired? All valid questions. I say, knowing he refuses to ask the real question, which is, why does the tunnel keep needing to be sealed? I suspect he really doesn't want

to know. I wouldn't if I were in his shoes. But I don't have that luxury. I, unfortunately, no. You're really going to be a dick about this aren't you, Crane. I don't know about being a dick,

but yeah, I'm going to do my job. Nothing in. Nothing out. As whole. He mutters and walks off.

His crew is almost done. One group is applying the farm around the plate's edges. While another group, ratchets huge bolts through the plate and directly into the holes drilled into the mountain side. I may have watched this happen thousands of times, but it is still remarkable. It's a huge opening to seal. Thirty feet high and twice is wide. The plate alone must way close to two tons, if not more. Mason busys himself with barking a few final orders to his crew. Then he helps them clean up

and climbs into his pickup. The crane is rolled up onto a flat bed trailer attached to a tractor trailer truck. As everyone piles into other various vehicles, the little convoy pulls out. Mason glaring at me the entire time. Then they're gone, leaving me to myself and my book. Tonight I'm reading a book about the fall of the Ottoman Empire. It's a fascinating subject, but a little dry for my taste. I may switch things up and read some Agatha Christie for tomorrow.

I have some of those around here somewhere. I shove my stool against the back wall of the guard house, lean back and open my book. After a few moments, I kick my feet up onto the small shelf built into the front wall of the guard house, right below the main window that looks out over the tunnel. Minutes pass by, an hour, then too. The sun has fully set, and the automatic lights inside the guard house and outside have clicked on. They aren't very strong, which gives the whole area

an eerie spooky vibe. Not that the place needs any help with that. The eerie spooky vibe is

“sort of implied by the whole reopening thing. Although, as I think of it, it's a little more exciting”

then. Hey! A jump and drop my book, startled by the man who suddenly standing just outside the guard house door. He's young, maybe late 20s at the most, skinny with short cropped hair, and the hint of a mustache on his upper lip. He smiles at me. You crane? He asks. Yup. Sorry to tell you, but this is a restricted area. You'll need to leave, please. Leave? No, I'm Jack. Jack, low bell. He must see the confusion on my face.

From the bearer normals, a guy named Mason said he talked to you. Oh, yes, he did, and I declined his offer. I can't grant you access to the tunnel. He looks surprised by this. Why not? It's my job. Nothing in, nothing out. Nothing out. What comes out? Has anything ever come out? Nope, because I'm good at my job. Did Mason mention how much we are paying him? He said he was going to share some with you, and that it wouldn't be a problem.

Sounds like we have a problem. Oh, no problem. I just can't let you in the tunnel.

“He licks his lips just like Mason. His licking lips a thing. Is this something everyone does now?”

Glancing back down the road, he sighs and reaches behind him, pulling a thick envelope out of his jeans pocket. I get it. You want more than a percentage. He opens the envelope and thums out quite a bit of cash that handed to me. Will 1000 do it? I wave the cash off. No, thank you, though.

find anything funny. Do you know who I am? How many followers we have?

Your jack-low bell of the paranormal's. You introduced yourself. And for how many followers you have, I'm not exactly sure what a follower is. So I can't answer that last question. I don't get out much. He laughs again. And this time, he does find something funny.

“I suspect. It's me. But I'm used to it. Don't you watch videos on your phone?”

Sorry. I don't have a phone. Just my work journal that I log everything in. I grab the journal and hold it up. Then I open it and show him the next blank page. I'll write this interaction down as soon as you leave. That's the thing, Crane.

I'm not leaving until I get my footage. They have to fellow walks up with an interesting

contraption in his hand and joins him outside the guard house. They're a problem? He asks. Crane here says he won't let us in the tunnel. Jack says, "Bull shit. We already paid that Mason guy." They have defella glars at me. You trying to shake us down. Is that it? What? Oh no. I just can't let you in the tunnel. Nothing in. Nothing out. And who's going to stop us? They have defella asks. You? Please. You look like a strong

fart would kick your ass. That's not very nice to say. I'm reply. I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave. Please. Not happening, man. Jack says he looks at his hefty friend.

Alec? The hefty fellow shakes his head and holds up his contraption.

Nope. Not happening. We came to get the Hampshire tunnel on video and that's what we're going to do. Huh. Well, it sounds like I can't talk you guys out of it, then. I am sorry to hear that. I don't care about your sorry. Jack Cox has had toward the tunnel. We're going to set up and get a few outside shots. Grab my opening commentary. What time does the

“tunnel reopen? What time? That's what I ask, man. What's wrong with you? Are you slow? Slow?”

Oh, most definitely not. I chuckle. Can't be slow in this job. What does that mean? Alec asks. Who cares? Jack says. I'll ask again. What time does the tunnel open? When it feels like it. Could be an hour. Could be right before dawn. It's not usually that late. But it has happened. How about you open it early? Jack asks me. He waves the cash at me again. I'll double this. Sorry. But no. Triple? Quadruple? Jack. Hey. Don't bother. We'll just shoot

our stuff and wait for the tunnel open. Then we'll walk on in. This bastard isn't going to stop us. He's weak AF. AF? The two guys laugh and shake their heads. Man, that Mason guy wasn't kidding. You're a weird one, Crane. Jack says. Come on. Let's get the prelim done. Then we can chill until the tunnel opens. Not like says. What's in your hand? I ask him. That contraption. This? He shakes his head. It's my phone man. This is the life. This is the

mic and this helps me hold it steady. Phone can do all that. Dude. Where are you even from? Have you been living under a rock? Oh, no. Definitely not a rock. Just living here in this guard house. The two young men laugh at me and turn away. I'm sorry gentlemen, but you can't set up your prelim whatever that is. I am going to have to ask you to leave. I said to their backs. The two young men ignore me, but I'm used to it. Let's frame it here and I'll stand here. Jack says. Hi there.

Um, like I said, I need you to leave. Whatever dude. Alex doesn't look at me. He's very focused on his phone camera thing with the light and mic and steady handle. Before I can protest again,

“there's a loud dump. Then a horrible tearing of metal. Okay, well, do you late now, I guess?”

I say and hop off my stool. Crouching down, I pop open a hatch in the guard house's floor and extract my tools. Six grenades, a flame thrower, two pistols, and an automatic rifle that I rarely get to use. The grenades and flame thrower usually do the job. You're going to want to step away. A come out of the guard house all locked and loaded. Holy shit. Jack says, "See me with my tools." What the hell is inside that tunnel? Good question. I stay close to the

guard house. Again, you're going to want to step away. Maybe get behind the guard house until this is over. And moose the best shots? You way. Alex shots. I shrug. To each their own, I guess. The tearing of metal continues, so to the loud bumps. The two young men do not move. Hey, Jack. Don't livestream. Can't get a single bar out here. Alex says. "Crap, okay. We'll record footage and go old school with a regular video. I think the fans

I couldn't warn them again, but I know they won't listen. The noise is stopped,

“and silence fills the air. I brace myself, ducking low. My flame thrower out there ready.”

Then, there are several loud bangs that make me wince. The bolts and the plate go flying. Each about 12 inches long and over an inch thick. I hear trees get hit, and their trunk's pop. One of the bolts digs a two-foot deep furrow in the road. Then silence again is the plate teaters. Starts to list. Then falls completely open. Slime is so hard onto the road that both young men are knocked off their feet. Although from the look of the guy with the camera phone,

he may have already been down. A shutter from that awful noise and stand-up. "Holy shit! Did you see that? Alex, tell me you got that!" Jack shouts jumping to his feet. "Oh, man. I can't

wait to see that on playback!" "Juck!" Alex says. "You got it, right?" "Um, Jack!" Jack turns and

looks at his friend, who I am watching closely. "Alex, you good, man?" He asks, "I don't think so!" "Alex pulls his hand from his belly and holds it up, showing his buddy a palm coated in blood."

“"I think I have!" "Alex coughs, and bloody mist sprays everywhere." "I think a bolt!"”

"He coughs again, and this time it's more of a stream of blood than mist." "I've got a bolt in my belly!" "Shit!" Jack races to his pal and squats down. His hands hovering over the young man, unsure of what to do. "He looks over at me!" "Call 911!" "I can't!" "No fun!" "I say, walking toward the now open tunnel." "They can't come here anyway. It's a restricted area. Screw that! Call a goddamn ambulance!" "Wish I could!" "I lie."

"But I got to get to work." "That's not a lie. Walking across the plate, I approach the open tunnel."

"Hello! I know you're in there!" "A yell." "It will be great if we could skip this part and just have a nice relaxing evening!" "At the sound of my voice, 10,000 beetles come streaming out of the darkness. I unload on them with the flame of the hour. Their black carcass is pop and burst from the heat, sending yellow bug guts flying in all directions. The smell is like rancid eggs and dog poo mixed with

“Carolina barbecue. "Oh God! I think he's dying!" Jack's screeches from behind me. "Do you”

something man? I am!" I reply, although probably not loud enough for him to hear over the flaming roar. The beetles tried to avoid the stream of fire, but I've been doing this for a very, very, very long time. I sweep the area with flame until I have incinerated every last one. Then I drop the flame thrower and pull a grenade from my belt. "Okay, that was fun and all, but I like to stop fighting now, okay?" I shout, pulling the pin from the grenade.

"Can we do that please? Stop fighting?" A black tentacle shoots out of the tunnel, and I turn quickly to the side, letting it fly past me. Without missing a beet, I pull the pistol and shoot the tentacle. A horrid squeal echoes out from the tunnel, and the tentacle is quickly withdrawn. A smiley Jack, who is holding his body and crying. "I guess it's a fight it wants!" I tossed the grenade into the tunnel.

There's a clatter, a grown, and then a very big explosion. Black blood and bits of tonical flesh explode out of the tunnel, showering the whole area. I knew to get out of the way, Jack and his dying body end up coated in the i-core. I pull two more grenades, pull the pins, and throw them inside the tunnel. The grown becomes a whale, and this time there's no nasty debris when the grenades go out. "Good to see your pain attention!" I shout at the tunnel.

"You just keep on moving back, okay?" There's a pain roar in response. "Well, you could've avoided all of this if you'd listened to me and decided not to fight!" Suddenly, another tentacle shoots out, aim straight for my head. I drop, pull the pistol again, and fire straight up, nailing the tentacle with at least six shots before it withdraws. The sad, pitiful moan that comes from inside, almost makes me feel sorry for the thing.

Almost. I get back up and walk closer to the tunnel. Careful not to slip on the bug guts and gore that code everything. "I have a feeling you're going to be a pest tonight!" I say, taking the rifle off my back, and putting it to my shoulder. I roll my head on my neck, cracking a few vertebrae. So bring what you're going to bring! A dozen rotten corpses come running out of the tunnel. Their gnarled hands and broken fingernails

outstretched, reaching straight for me. I fire 13 shots, all 12 of the reanimated nasties fall. Then I hear one more fall inside the tunnel. I had a feeling there was another. The roar comes again, and I shake my head. I tell you every time that we can avoid this. I pull another grenade, tossing it casually into the tunnel. I turn my back as it goes off. Yucky stuff splatters against my neck and the back of my head. Oh darn it, it's all in my hair now. "Mr. Crane!"

"Well, probably not. He took a 12 inch bolt to the belly. I'm surprised he lasted as long as he did."

“"Why? Why would you say that? You asshole? My best friend is dead!"”

"Yep, sorry about that. I didn't warn you." I hear a grinding noise and open fire on the tunnel. The grinding stops instantly, replaced by wet slouching, so loud that I can even hear it over the automatic gun fire. "There you go, run away!" I yell. "Then there's a click, and the rifle stops firing.

I eject the magazine and slap in a fresh one. Standing there, I listen hard. I can hear it,

retreating. The wet squelching gets quieter and quieter until it's completely gone. Once that's over, I sling my rifle, then turn and face Jack. He's sobbing. His face buried in his dead friend's bloody chest. "Yeah, that's a bummer." I walk up and stand over the two young men. One alive, one very much dead. Jack looks up at me, tears screaming down his face. "Do you

“something, man? You have to help, please!" I tried. He didn't listen. "I pull a pistol and take”

aid." "Sorry." I fired two shots. One into Jack's head, and one into Alex, just in case.

I did warn them that this was a restricted area. After taking a few minutes to drag the body's a few feet into the tunnel, I walked back to the guard house and stole my tools in the floor hatch. Then I step outside and go around to the back of the guard house to where the spigot and hose are. I unwind the hose and turn the spigot on, then return to the road. "I'll be such a mess." I mumbled as I washed the road, the plate, and a good amount of the guard

house down. The company got me one of those high-powered nozzles a couple of years ago, and it

“really makes this work a lot easier. An hour of cleaning, and I am done. Then I remember that I”

have one last chore. It took a deep breath, lower my head, and hose down the back of my neck, and all my matted hair. "Cold!" I shout with a laugh. Shaking off the excess water, I wind the hose back up, turn off the spigot, and head back inside the guard house, where my stool and book are waiting. Settled and comfy once again, I kicked my feet up and start reading. Then I thought it's me. That Jack guy had a lot of money in that envelope. I probably should

get it for Mason. He doesn't deserve it, but what would I do with it? I get up off my stool, set my book down, and huff it out of the guard house and over to the tunnel. But before I can reach Jack's body, two tentacles snake out and grab the corpses, pulling them into the deep darkness. "Okay, yeah, that's fair!" I say and wave at the tunnel. "But no more shenanigans tonight, you hear?" There's a low moon in response. "Good." Back to the guard house,

back to the stool, and back to my book. Man, too bad that Mason's kid won't see any new episodes of that showy likes. No more paranormals now. But hey, I'll tell Mason all about tonight, and he can tell his son the story. I'm sure he'll love all the blood and gore. Kids like that sort of stuff, right?