Portents of Fear is a horror fiction podcast
which is intended for mature audiences. Discretion
is advised. Welcome, fearlings, to another weird
and horrifying tale made just for you. I'm your
host, Mashulu, and I'll be your guide into the
macabre and mysterious. In tonight's story, we
learn the fate of a troubled young scientist
in Wormhole. Before we get started, take a moment
to like, subscribe, and ring that notification
bell so you don't miss a single terrifying story.
Dr. Yolanda Chavez entered the final calculations
into the wormhole gun. Her lungs drew in a deep
breath. This was it. She squeezed the trigger.
A swirling light of strange sounds emanated from
the barrel, ripping a passageway through space
-time a few feet away. She smiled. Finally, success.
There, in her tiny lab, was a small, stable wormhole.
The other side had opened in a Kansas field,
just as she had planned. Ten years of isolation,
ridicule, and being called insane by her peers
were worth it for this moment. The wormhole was
five meters in diameter. Its interior was only
16 meters long. This meant near -instant travel
over thousands of miles had been achieved. The
walls of the tunnel resembled a densely packed
nervous system of strange, thick, purple threads.
A cool breeze carrying the pungent aroma of the
American Midwest wafted into the lab. Yolanda
stepped into the tunnel, penetrating an invisible
energy membrane. The interior disoriented her
mind. Every atom went out of phase with time.
The thunderous vibration in the wormhole caused
her organs to quake. She felt ill. Yolanda closed
her eyes to focus. The wormhole's effect muted
as she grew accustomed to her new environment.
She slowly went forward. Long strands of multidimensional
energy began stretching out from the walls, creating
a spider web behind her. White -hot streaks of
light ran down the thick purple threads, causing
them to glow a pale violet. Small sparks of thought
jumped from one strand to another. This webbing
became the new home for an interdimensional being.
It commenced thinking in three dimensions instead
of five. Creating a wormhole wasn't easy, but
Yolanda was brilliant. She was also a mess. Growing
up smarter than everyone, she was always isolated
by those who envied her intelligence. Expected
to do great things, the pressure to achieve drove
a teenage Yolanda to drink heavily. She lashed
out even at those trying to help her. Then, inspiration
came. She published a paper theorizing that a
wormhole could be created on Earth. The scientific
community mocked her, saying the paper read more
like science fiction than actual science. They
didn't get it. The math was too advanced. It
read like nonsense to them. Yolanda tried every
university in the U .S. None would greenlight
the project. She went to the Pentagon, where
crazy ideas were greenlit all the time. But they
also said no. In a last -ditch effort, she went
to the U .K., but it was all for naught. Word
of her theories had spread through academia and
beyond. The project was too radical, too dangerous,
too expensive. Just a pipe dream. It also didn't
help that she was a slow -moving train wreck
no one wanted to work with. Deflated, she went
back to teaching and drank even more. Yolanda
reached the Kansas side of the wormhole. Stepping
out, she immediately transformed into a gelatinous
substance splattering onto the ground. She became
a puddle of thick human soup. Thoughts swam in
the goo. Was she dead? Yolanda tried to take
a large breath, which caused her new form to
bubble. Suddenly, a cow walked up, sniffing her.
Its hot breath caused her surface to ripple.
It was the oddest feeling. What are you? the
cow asked. Its bovine thoughts mingled with her
own, creating a strange language they both understood.
I'm human? Like the farmer? I think not, the
cow replied. I don't know what I am, then. I
just know I'm scared, Yolanda admitted. Try being
a cow. It walked away. For hours she lay there,
slowly reconstituting herself. Forty -three hours
later, she was whole again. The wormhole stayed
open, but the portal had shrunk two meters. The
thought of transforming into a puddle on the
other side again horrified her, but she didn't
have a choice. She would just grab a flight home,
but she was naked with no ID. All her clothes,
including her wallet, transformed to goo as well.
Without consciousness, it was impossible for
them to reform like she had. Peering into the
wormhole, Yolanda noticed the web of glowing
energy blocking the way home. The wormhole started
to collapse, and without a thought, Yolanda dove
in, trying to get home before it closed completely.
The webbing broke free, sticking to her skin.
The walls closed in. Every atom vibrated again.
She was completely disoriented. Only her hand
reached out into the lab. She was trapped in
the fifth dimension. Her hand liquefied, falling
off right as the wormhole closed on her. Yolanda
was now in the most abstract way, only thought.
Pure thought needs a pathway. The dense web the
wormhole cut through had become the highway of
her mind. Keeping her thoughts together proved
difficult. Yolanda's mind had broken into individual
thoughts. Some thoughts veered off on side threads.
Over time, her mind completely separated, and
Yolanda, as she had been in the third dimension,
was no more. Distance meant nothing. Time meant
nothing. Pure thought cascaded in all directions.
There was no way to know if she had traveled
for eons or mere seconds, but somehow... Her
mind came back together. It was not her doing.
She had no control. Through gut -wrenching pain,
she was reborn into the third dimension. She
found herself on the floor of her lab, naked
and rebuilt. But how? She wondered. The wormhole
was gone. She crawled to her bed and passed out.
Yolanda's mind hadn't been put together properly.
While dreaming, she walked in a valley of glassy
black rock under a crimson sky. Something was
with her, some sort of presence living in the
corner of her eye. Never fully in sight, the
shadow unseen. It chittered in her skull. She
woke screaming. Frost had been surprised to get
a phone call from Yolanda. It had been years,
many of them bitter, since they last spoke. When
her name came up on caller ID, he hesitated,
not sure if he wanted to reopen the door she
so firmly slammed. But there he was, sitting
at a table outside a downtown cafe. hoping this
wasn't a huge mistake. Hi, Frost. Thanks for
coming to meet me, Yolanda said meekly. She stood
a few feet away in a long trench coat, sunglasses,
and a floppy hat. Yolanda? Why are you dressed
like a discount spy? Frost asked. She sat across
from him. Her face was emotionless. We'll get
to that. How are you? I'm all right. I will say
that I was shocked to see your name pop up on
my phone after all this time. After you left
me, I thought I'd never see you again, Frost
said. I need your help. I know it's not cool
to ask after what I did, but I do. Can you help
me or should I leave? Depends if you're still
drinking or not, Frost replied coldly. I stopped
drinking seven days ago. I won't be drinking
again, okay, Yolanda promised. I've heard that
before, he replied. Frost, this isn't a joke.
You either hear me out or don't. Stop with the
judgmental BS, she snapped. You're right. I'm
sorry. But so we're clear, seven days dry does
not mean I trust you. Now tell me, what is so
bad that you would contact me of all people?
I opened a wormhole at my lab a week ago. Oh
God, not this again. Frost stood up. Yolanda
stood as well, then pulled up her sleeve to reveal
a patch of scaly blue skin. I'm telling the truth.
I opened a wormhole and went through. Please,
Frost, sit down. Please. He sat down, speechless.
She covered her arm again. A week ago, I was
finally ready to show the world it could be done.
I went from my lab here to a cow pasture in Kansas,
and in doing so, I was changed. I became a puddle
of goo. After I reformed, I tried to return home,
but the wormhole collapsed on me. I was transformed
again, this time into pure thought. It's the
best way I can describe it. Slowly, each piece
of my being left and I was gone. Somehow, I woke
up in my lab. I felt like something had joined
with me. Then yesterday, I noticed that patches
of my skin were changing. I think I'm changing
yet again. That sounds impossible. What do you
want me to do? You're the best biologist in the
field. I want you to take me to your lab and
run every test you can. What about the hospital?
No, I can't. I don't want to be a lab rat, so
to speak. I trust you. Please, can you just run
some tests? Yeah, of course. You said something
followed you, he asked. I guess more like hitched
a ride. It's living in the corner of my eye,
or at least I think it is. There is a presence.
It could be a hallucination. My wife Heather
is a neuroscientist. She may be able to help.
You got married. Congratulations. She smiled
to hide her disappointment. There was a twinge
of regret, guilt, and longing for Frost that
she hadn't counted on. It was selfish, but she
never wanted him to move on. Yeah, anyway, if
you'd be okay with it, I can have her meet us
at my lab. He was unsure about introducing them,
but Heather could help. Plus, it was better that
she knew he was assisting Yolanda. I'll take
all the help I can get. Looking around, Yolanda
noted that Frost's lab was well -funded. The
university had made sure the grant money was
put to good use. He had the staff and resources
to run multiple projects with students. She had
to admit, it was nice. He'd called ahead to make
sure they would be alone. The phone call with
his wife, Heather, was awkward, but she arrived
not long after they did. Heather seemed friendly
and ready to dive in, but Yolanda still fought
jealousy. She wanted to hate this woman. Her
mind needed something to think about besides
the ever -growing interdimensional being present
inside her head. Can you please take off your
clothes so we can see what's happening? Heather
asked. Yeah, sure. Yolanda took off her glasses,
wig, and clothing. Both Frost and Heather gasped.
Yolanda had patches of blue scales all over her
body. Her head was bald with deep blue ridges
running from the top of her forehead to the back
of her skull. Her left eye had turned completely
black. Stunned, Heather couldn't hide her concern.
I think we need to quarantine this lab, her lab,
and ourselves until we figure this out, Heather
said. Frost nodded in agreement. You're right.
This is much more serious than I had thought.
We're going to need more specialists and medical
doctors, Yolanda. We can't do this on our own.
Guys, no, we can. I don't want to be some kind
of lab rat, Yolanda protested. We have no way
of knowing what this is or if it's contagious.
It would be unethical for us not to call the
CDC, Frost said. The CDC can take us anywhere
they want, and their doctors would be in control,
not us, Yolanda argued. I understand your concerns,
but we have to take the public's health into
consideration, Heather said. She turned to Frost.
How long can you keep this lab empty? I don't
know. Students have projects, I have classes,
but those all take a backseat to quarantine.
I'll need to call the dean after we call the
CDC. I'm sorry, Yolanda. It's the right thing
to do all around, Frost responded. No, I'm not
going to be a prisoner of the CDC. She started
to put her clothes back on. We're only trying
to help. Protocols are in place for a reason.
You could be contagious, and we have no idea
what this is. It's in everyone's best interest,
yours included, Heather said gently. Yolanda
hastily put her clothes on and started for the
door. No, this was a mistake. I knew I couldn't
trust you, Frost. Stay away from me, Yolanda
snapped. Frost moved to block her from leaving.
You're being unreasonable. You have to stay,
Yolanda. Please, Frost said. He raised his hands
to stop her. She rushed forward and shoved him
out of the way. Frost tried to catch his balance
but hit the floor instead. Heather ran to help
Frost up. By the time he got to his feet, Yolanda
was gone. We can't let her go. We have to call
this in, Heather said. Frost nodded. Pulling
out his phone, he dialed 911. Making it back
to her lab, Yolanda grabbed supplies. This included
the wormhole gun. She worried that the police
would pick her up any second so she didn't hang
around. Should have known something like this
would happen. I'm not letting anyone pull us
apart, she thought. It was at that moment she
knew her own personality was losing ground to
the alien consciousness. She headed south out
of the city. The car flew down the highway. Late
afternoon traffic was light, luckily. Her palms
slicked the steering wheel. She would have given
anything for a drink in that moment. She caught
a glimpse of her inhuman face in the mirror.
It was taking over. It chittered incessantly,
creating a constant buzz in her ear. She opened
the windows and turned on the radio, all in an
attempt to drown it out. Nothing was working.
What the hell was I thinking? Frosty spineless
ass. You couldn't just help me? Had to bring
in your cow wife? I can't believe I was so stupid,
she thought. Slow down. You must not damage yourself.
You are the vessel for my arrival. The interdimensional
being hissed. The sudden sound of its voice in
her head caused Yolanda to swerve hard. The tires
screeched and swerved. Horns trumpeted as she
careened off the road, slamming into the ditch.
The airbag did its job, thankfully. Yolanda was
dazed. The world spun. Get out of this machine.
Escape. I must survive, the being commanded.
Without warning, the being's personality took
control. She swung the door open and forced her
body out. The engine hissed steam. The car was
totaled. She could feel broken bones in her legs
and warm rivers of blood down her face, but the
interdimensional being's personality switched
off her pain receptors. Stop fighting my commands.
You must leave now, it chittered. It had become
a battle of wills that Yolanda was losing. Still
dazed, she couldn't fight. Cars pulled over.
People were yelling for her to sit back down
as they approached. She grabbed her bag from
the back seat and ran into the woods. Frost listened
to the ring on the other end of the phone. All
she had to do was pick up and maybe he could
help her. He hit end on his cell. She's not picking
up. Damn it, Frost said. You didn't do anything
wrong. She's not thinking straight. God knows
what she has. Did you see the face the cop gave
when you used the word wormhole? I thought he
was going to arrest us both for a false statement,
Heather said. It had only been an hour, but it
felt like an eternity. Frost paced like a caged
tiger. When I met her, she was brilliant, fun,
had it all together, knew where she wanted to
go with her life. We started dating our final
year of college. I miss being that young and
stupid. It was just easier, Frost lamented. Yeah,
even with all the classwork, it was an easier
time, Heather chimed in. Though, the other side
of her brilliance was much darker. In college,
we only saw each other every couple of weeks.
Classes kept us busy. When we graduated, we decided
to move in together. That's when things went
sideways. I knew she liked to drink, but this
wasn't just social drinking. Out on top, the
violent mood swings and outbursts. It got scary,
but I couldn't walk away. It only got worse when
she got the wormhole idea and no one would give
her grant money for it. With each no, she became
more chaotic. She'd go out at odd hours, getting
blackout drunk and sleeping with other men. I
still didn't leave. I thought I could save her.
But you can't save people from themselves. One
day, she just grabbed her stuff and left. Jesus,
Frost. I'm so sorry. That sounds terrible, Heather
responded. At the time, it was devastating. Even
with all the problems, the drinking, the emotional
outbursts, the cheating, I loved her. I should
never have thought I could fix her, though. You
were young and in love. It's understandable.
I know that now. I thought I'd put it all behind
me, but here I am again, worrying about someone
who's made it clear that I'm not wanted, Frost
said. You're a kind man. There isn't anything
wrong with that. She shouldn't have opened a
wormhole, especially by herself. Who does that?
The danger to everyone on the planet. It's just
nuts. We have no idea what's causing her transformation
or if anyone else will be affected. She needs
to be quarantined, Heather stated. Frost stopped
pacing. He faced away from Heather, knowing she
wouldn't like what he was about to say. I can't
sit here and wait for them to find her. I have
to try to help. If I don't and she dies, I'll
hate myself forever. I'm sorry, Frost explained.
We're quarantined. The lab is closed. There are
cops at the doors. The medical team from the
CDC will be here any second. We can't leave.
No, we're not leaving. I am. I shouldn't have
involved you in this. I'll take the heat. I can
sneak out the secret door, Frost said. There's
a secret door? That's convenient, Heather said,
rolling her eyes. Yeah, in the early 2000s, the
dean put hidden escape doors in all the rooms
in case of a campus shooter. He finally turned
to look at Heather. Her arms were crossed, indicating
that a fight was about to happen. If you go,
I should go with you. I can help, Heather said.
No, one of us in trouble for bucking quarantine
is enough. I'll find her and take her to a facility.
We'll get this worked out. I don't like any of
this, but it's clear I can't stop you. I love
you. You'd better get going. I love you too.
It was the only place Yolanda could think to
go, her old college dorm. It had been closed
a few years. Getting inside wasn't hard. It appeared
that many had done it already. The walls were
covered with graffiti. Yolanda was herself again,
at least for now. The thing in the corner of
her eye wanted control. Large, scaly blue patches
covered her skin. Her left eye was bulbous and
black. Her spine grew outwards. She was mutating
into a new life form, one she knew wasn't meant
to live in this reality. Yolanda, Frost said,
standing at the door, all the blood had drained
from his face. He was stunned at her transformation.
She was looking out the window. Her laptop sat
on an old crate running the wormhole program.
The wormhole gun sat next to it. She didn't turn
to look at him. Stay back. It's telling me to
embrace you. I can't hold on much longer. I think
you and Heather were right. It wants to infect
you too. I'm going to be dead soon, Frost. Erased
by my own hubris to prove to the world I was
right. We can get you help. This can be fixed.
No, we can't. You know we can't. How did you
find me? You're smart. You're not going to stay
at your lab, but you would go to someplace you
felt safe. I remembered you felt safe here, so
I took a chance, Frost replied. You always knew
me better than I knew myself. I'm sorry for all
I've done and for all this, Frost. You've always
been there, and I've always punished you for
it, she said. You're an ass from time to time,
but I would have stayed by your side no matter
what. I know. That was part of the reason I left.
I hated myself so much that I hated you for loving
me. It's stupid. but my obsession with this project
blinded me to all my other problems. I'm glad
you have Heather. She seems nice, and you deserve
someone who's like that, Yolanda said as if she
was a million miles away. Finally, she turned.
Frost couldn't help but to recoil. Tears welled
up in his eyes. His mind began to melt in heartbreak.
He couldn't accept what was staring him in the
face. Jesus, Yolanda. We have to do something,
sobbed Frost. We are going to do something. If
I die before it can take over, it dies too. I've
put in the coordinates between here and 40 miles
up. It's a short enough distance that there will
be no real tunnel for me to get through, Yolanda
said. It took Frost a moment to process what
she was planning. No, you can't do that. I...
I... It's the only way to make sure. If this
thing wins, humanity is lost. You know I'm right,
Yolanda said. Frost wanted to plead. He wanted
to grab her and drag her out, but she was right.
This was the only way. What do I have to do?
Pick up the wormhole gun and fire it so that
the portal opens right below me. I'll fall through,
and this will be over. Frost picked the gun up,
and before he could second guess himself, he
pointed it at the floor below her and fired.
With a flash, she was gone. He fell to his knees,
crying. Yolanda flew through the atmosphere,
arms outstretched, waiting to hug the earth at
200 miles per hour. The city streets came into
focus. They snaked out in every direction. No
grid system or elegant design, just concrete
chaos. Car lights illuminated its veins, pumping
humanity in and out of downtown. She smiled,
thinking this was the best high she'd ever had.
Yolanda's life didn't pass before her eyes. Instead,
life's beauty blurred by at a hideous speed.
The interdimensional being inside howled with
rage. It was helpless. She hit the pavement.
Yolanda proved that safety should always come
first when entering a wormhole. You never know
how you'll come out the other side. Would you
trust a homemade wormhole? Be sure to tell us
in the comments. If you liked this Portents of
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your screen now. Goodnight, fearlings. Sleep
well. If you can.