Book Outlast: The Murkoff Account Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This story is a literary retelling of the comic book Outlast: The Murkoff Account by Red Barrels. The Murkoff Account tells the story of what occurs between the end of Outlast Whistleblower and the beginning of Outlast II. If you don't know about Outlast, which was a very popular (and thoroughly terrifying) M rated horror game that came out in 2013 I suggest reading up on the story-line for the original game here and the subsequent sequel (Whistleblower) here.

Summary: The trans national Murkoff corporation tirelessly pushes the frontier of scientific research and development. Partnering with the greatest minds of tomorrow, Murkoff expands the reach of every branch of scientific inquiry, including gene therapy, behavioral psychology, information technology, and medicine.

In the event of mistake or oversight the Murkoff Insurance Mitigation Department comes in to minimize economic fallout. Mitigation officers are damage control. They are not here to save lives or help people, they are here to make sure it doesn't cost the company any more than it has to.

Outlast: The Murkoff Account
Chapter 3

[POV: Pauline Glick]​

"Murkoff HR forwarded us the email." I say, as I pause to replace my injured arm on the side of my chair. "That talk about OSHA... it had potential litigation written all over it."
"Yes," Gary says, "we were very concerned about that."
"So were we. I know a veiled threat when I see one."
"Good thing you sent it to us." I smile, "Veiled threats are my whole M.O."
"So," Gary motions to his empty class and within seconds Jeff is gone, glass in hand, presumably to fill it with something stronger. Whatever it is he's going to need it for what I have to tell him. "Naturally you investigated?"
"Paul and I started looking through Mount Massive's internet logs. They had a bunch of them and we looked through every one. But whoever posted the complaint had covered their tracks. We didn't find a thing."
Gary frowns at this, HR always hates it when complaints go unresolved. A personal issue was, after all, an HR issue. And nothing was more delicate than keeping the grunts in line, "Nothing, Ms. Glick?" he asks.
"Nothing."
Jeff chooses this moment to reappear with Gary's drink, which he gingerly places next to him, "Thank you Roger." Gary says. My eyes flit to Jeff who, once again, takes his seat between us, silent as ever. So it's Roger is it? I think. Interesting. And what other secrets do you have Roger? I trace a fingernail along my chin with my good arm, pondering this before Gary brings me back to the topic at hand, "What did you do then Ms. Glick?"
"I got curious about what Murkoff was so intent on hiding." I say, still looking at Roger. His eyes flit to me at the mention of 'hiding'. We exchange a look but he, expressionless and saying nothing, turns away. Damn I was never very good at this. For me, mind games were always a problem that didn't want to be solved. That was Marion's area of expertise. But could he crack Roger? I wonder... "I left Marion with the logs" I continue "and I took a trip underground."

Deep underground.

...

Three hours later and Paul and I have uncovered little from the logs to shed light on the situation. There's a memo by a security guard in the prison ward which makes a passing reference to a fight between two prisoners on the basketball court but little else to suggest anything wrong; let alone any serious security failures. Whoever sent the complaint to HR it's obvious they covered their tracks well. Very well. And it's driving me up the wall. Paul's incessant humming as he slowly meanders through the logs, as if lost in a forest, doesn't help matters either. It only heightens my agitation. I barely resist the urge to tell Paul to shut up as he hums another stanza of the Andy Griffith Show theme song. I think it's something he does for his kid and it's most likely an old habit by now. But I don't care, I need to think. There must be some way to trace that email. Think!

I begin pacing around the room, past the rows of desktops and filing cabinets and back again, to calm my nerves. It's not working. Twenty minutes later I still have no idea who sent the complaint but I do have a few clues. For one thing it couldn't have been any of the lower level staff, the grunts. The leak was too smooth, too well done to be performed with no paper trail let alone an ID, to be performed by a mere security guard. Only someone with extensive networking knowledge, with day to day interactions around the hospital could pull it off. Someone with clearance. Who could have that kind of clearance? I ponder this for a time before the crushing reality hits me like a freight train. A huge number of people could. The doctors, the orderlies, the maids, the administrators, the administrative assistants, the stockholders, the techs... Yes, especially the techs. I smile, why didn't I think of them earlier? A tech was a perfect fit for this kind of inside job. They had the clearance, the access, and they certainly had the skills. Any tech who could work for Murkoff could easily figure out how to bump an email through a few dozen onion routers, concealing their identity and escaping any repercussions in the process.

But two questions still nag at me. Even if the complaints had weight who would send such an email? And why? I chuckle at this, now that's a good question... who would risk it all? What could they have seen, no, experienced, that drove them to break protocol and email HR? The email wasn't written by a desperate man, let alone someone scared, no the tone wasn't right. It was cold, calculating, and above all, threatening. If you go after me I won't hesistate to strike back. Yes, while benign on the surface theirs was an email written by someone with information, information which if revealed to the outside would give Murkoff a much greater headache than a spat of litigation.

Suddenly I recall a conversation I had with one of the administrators a few days back, shortly after HR notified us of the complaint. He mentioned something... I frown trying to recall what he said. Oh yes, now I remember. He had said something about experiments conducted deep below ground, in extreme secrecy, what was it again?

Now Ms. Glick, I can't tell you what they're doing down there. That would be breaking the rules! Do you want me out of a job? But if you knew... oh Ms. Glick if you only knew... down there is more litigation than you'd see in a lifetime in the world. One hundred feet below is hell, a lawyer's paradise. Murkoff's greatest treasure and their dirtiest secret. Maybe someday you'll live to see it. I just hope you're not on the other side of the glass when you do... Haha...

That's what it was. Experiments that endangered anyone who came into contact with them, doctors and patients alike. More litigation than you'd see in a lifetime could that be what the email was referring to? I sigh and glance at Paul, he's still going through the security logs, finding nothing. It's a waste of time if there ever was one however necessary. Perhaps he'll uncover something by chance, but I doubt it.

Now seems like as good a time as any to explore other avenues. And at last I know where to start.

"I'm going to have a look around." I say. Unsurprisingly, Paul doesn't respond. He's too wrapped up in the logs. No matter, he couldn't follow me even if he wanted to. He doesn't have the clearance.

I walk down the long, drab hall of the administration block in search of the lobby. That's where the elevator is and, as I remember, the only direction it goes is down. I'm certain it's the right way to go. How many other elevators only go down anyway? I turn a corner and glimpse a sign at the end of the hall. It's labeled ELEVATOR in bold black letters with an arrow pointing to the left. I follow and in short order I find myself showing my ID to a guard. He's heavily armed, covered to the toe in Kevlar and a machine gun in his hand, and standing a few feet from the elevator. I don't need any more confirmation than this to know I'm going in the right direction.

The guard raises his free arm and points a laser in my eyes. Probably checking for hepatitis I figure. The yellow discoloring around the iris would give anyone away, especially with the aide of that laser. He holds it there for a few seconds but sees nothing unusual. Having passed this little test the guard steps back and motions to a scanner near the elevator door.
"Scan your ID through there ma'am." he says, "It's for the logs."

I scan my ID. There's a ping! sound and the elevator door slides open. I walk in and press the down arrow, the only button on the panel. To my slight surprise, nothing happens.

"You'll need a key for that lady." one of the guards says. He gives me a toothy grin and pulls out a large, irregularly shaped key from his vest pocket. I look below the panel and notice the keyhole. Ah, of course. "Going down?" he asks, as if that were a question.

I nod. He turns the key in the lock and the door squeals to a close. "It's a long way down y'know." the guard says, glancing at my breasts, "One hundred and twenty two feet..."

Creep. I resist the urge to kick him in the balls as he ogles me. His partner might get very upset if I did. I don't doubt that I can take them but even the smallest incident created a mountain of paperwork at Murkoff. And nothing made the executives more upset than paperwork. So I put up with the man for the duration of the ride and focus my energies on the task at hand.

What could Murkoff be hiding?

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