Page 98 of Lost Paradise

With each step we take forward, there’s a sense of unease settling over me, as if the very walls of this building hold whispered secrets and hidden dangers. But then there’s thatneed-to-knowdrive in me to uncover the truth of the mysteries of this island.

“I think this place once held all the answers of whatever the fuck is going on the island,” Eve declares, echoing my thoughts.

“Stay here,” I instruct both of them. “I’ll go in first,” I firmly say, my voice echoing around us.

I cautiously approach the door, its rusted chain clinging weakly. With a firm wrench, the chain snaps and falls, and I pull the creaking door open. Standing at the entrance, a wave of musty air greets me, tinged with the faint scent of chemicals and decay.

With careful steps, I venture further into the room, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. But as I look around, a sense of awe washes over me. The lab is remarkably well-preserved, frozen in time like a relic from another era. Everything is in place—exhaust cabinets, test tubes, flasks—all the attributes of a fully functional laboratory.

I gape at the rows of reagents, the gleaming glassware, and the neatly organized shelves of equipment. It was as if the scientists who once worked here had simply stepped out for a moment, leaving behind a perfect snapshot of their research.

Byron is going to be amazed.

"Guys, you've got to see this," I call out, unable to contain my excitement any longer.

They join me, eagerly stepping into the lab with cautious curiosity. Together, we explore the room, marveling at the relics of a bygone era.

“Holy fucking shit,” Eve blurts out as her eyes dart around. “This isn’t just abandoned, it’s freaking ancient.”

“Maybe decades old,” I say in agreement, yet it remains eerily untouched by time, unlike outside.

Byron picks up a bottle from a nearby shelf, his brow furrowing in confusion as he examines the old, faded label. “This is Russian,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, and he picks up another bottle.

The discovery sends a shiver down my spine, a sense of unease creeping over me.

“What were they doing here? And what became of them?” I ask.

This place holds so many answers yet remains an even bigger mystery, drawing us further into the heart of the unknown.

A shiver runs down my spine, a sense of unease creeping over me. What secrets lay hidden within the walls of this forgotten laboratory? And what had become of the scientists who had once used this place? With each passing moment, the mystery deepens, drawing us further into the heart of the unknown.

I pick up an old yellow newspaper and gently brush off the dirt. It’s Russian as well, but my breath catches in my throat as I scan the date printed on the front page.

“1989,” I say, holding it up to them. “This is Soviet era.”

“Which means they abandoned it when the Cold War ended,” Eve explains.

“The USSR fell in 1991,” I say, remembering one of the few history classes I paid attention to in high school. “That’s a three-year difference,” I murmur, “Why would they have a paper that’s three years old?”

My question hangs in the air, unanswered and unsettling, as we exchange uneasy glances.

"It’s just a theory, but work with me on this,” Byron remarks, his tone thoughtful. “1989 was the year the Berlin Wall fell. It was one of the series of events that started the unraveling of communism in Eastern Europe."

“So they got pulled from the project when problems started?” I voice my opinion.

“If this research lab had indeed been abandoned in 1989, it meant that its occupants had been pulled from their work—likely in connection to the collapse of the Soviet Union.”

The pieces of the puzzle fall into place with chilling clarity.

"But why leave everything behind?" Eve wonders aloud, and my mind races with possibilities. "And why keep it hidden for so long?"

Byron’s expression reflects the gravity of her question and this situation. "It was probably KGB-related," he suggests. "Or even more secretive than that. The Americans had the Manhattan Project wrapped up in secrets during the second world war. Who knows what the Russians were up to behind the Iron Curtain and what they were planning here."

The thought sends another shiver down my spine as we stand in this abandoned laboratory, surrounded by the remnant of a forgotten era. I can’t help but feel a sense of unease, a realization that we are treading on ground shrouded in mystery and danger.

I open a couple of drawers, but there’s nothing of interest here other than some tools I know we can find useful. I follow the others through the door into another area that seems like the kitchen with tables and chairs. Eve flops into one, regardless of how dirty it is.

“Damn, it feels like I haven’t sat on a chair for months.” She says, and I relax on a chair beside her.

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