Survivor's Log # 23
[Redacted] days after WHIPPOORWILL
"My team had been tasked with compiling the artifacts from the Dubai excavation. We arduously cataloged the relics for three straight nights at the [REDACTED] safe-house. The quality of the house was...sub-par at best, and after Sarah complained [REDACTED] told us in polite words to go fuck ourselves. We took shifts sleeping, two of us bagging and tagging the shards of strange, luminous clay while the other caught some restless sleep on the hard army surplus cot.
The fact we were even still calling it clay- though it glowed softly in the shadowed corners of our workstation, outlining the dark glyphs that danced in our minds- shows how far we had slipped into denial. About what had happened. About what happened to Geoff. After our fearless leader had spiraled into his psychotic break, everyone became rigidly locked into a sort of state of...shock?
No one slept peacefully. My own dreams were of thousand mirrored walls of broken glass and smiling teeth reflected a million times over in every size and angle imaginable. There was no sound, only a faint pressure around my ears. I cannot call these nightmares for I did not fear; it was as if all emotion had been cut out of me with the gentle hands of a disturbed boy mutilating frogs. The pressure grew, and with it a sort of pattern to the pressure. They mumbled in hushed tones that tore at my brain like teeth chewing cobwebs. Like a whispering force assaulting me, until my eardrums felt like they were going to explode, and I awoke with a headache.
No one talked about their dreams. I wish we had."