Day 418

The snow piled up in lumps, covering the floor of the old factory.
It had seeped in through the broken windows and partially collapsed roof.
These are what drew people to visit.

There's something about an abandoned shell of a once busy place that seems irresistible.
It could be the echoes of its former uses, it could be human's natural curiosity.
Still, some places are better left untouched and uninterrupted.

The morning shift in this particular factory began at 6:15AM sharp, marked by a bell.
It rang throughout the town built around it like an ants nest, signalling their start.
On clear mornings the bell still rings though urban explorers have never found it.

They have searched every inch of the factory, heard the bell toll and said it comes from everywhere.
Some seem to think that the bell is in the town somewhere or it is a series of bells.
When the snow came thick last winter the bell stopped and hasn't rung since.

It hasn't melted inside the factory either, not even in the harsh summer heat.
Few people have gone there since the disappearances of five urban explorers.
They're claiming the place has changed, that its full of workers and business is booming.

Thing is nobody can remember what the factory produced.
I went in there last month to find out, to see if there were any clues like employee handbooks.
After three hours in there I can say that its never been fuller.

Snow doesn't bother the dead, they can't feel anything - they don't even need breaks.
Ever since winter they've been working, one told me so (Tom, his name was).
His right arm and upper leg had been crushed by something he called "The Wrack Mender".

He never explained what it was, just garbled out words in between handing large metal brackets
to another employee who was missing most of his lower jaw to "a stray Vice Bolter".
I tried to ask where the missing people were but Tom said that everyone there was a worker.

Staying as much out of the way as possible I went further in, looking for modern clothing as it
would stick out sorely against the grubby blue uniforms of the workers.
I had photos of the missing people's faces and showed them to wandering workers.

Eventually towards the end of my three hour trek into the dead's factory, one worker pointed down.
She pointed down into a pit where they looked to be cleaning large metal cylinders.
Poor woman couldn't speak as most of her head was missing to some other machine based disaster.

After a few more minutes of wandering I found him, one of the missing people.
He was suspended on bungee cables of some sort and missing his entire lower half.
Dressed in the same uniforms as everyone else he fit right in but for the colour of his skin and blood.

The dead are greyish blue and whatever blood is on them is dried a rusty red shade.
Mike (the formerly missing person) was a bit paler than his photo but still normal and was dangling
over a steadily growing puddle of fresh red blood, moving sluggishly as he worked.

He was clearly going to bleed to death and I tried - I really tried to get him out of there.
They wouldn't let me, said he'd signed the contract and had to work there just like them.
In fact, they told me he would soon be like them.

They seemed happy that he was dying, glad to have fresh company perhaps.
I was escorted to the factory's back door by the one I knew as Tom.
He waved briefly, said that to come back if I ever needed work - plenty of jobs going apparently.