[b]Thread last updated:[/b] [i]July 2nd, 2010 at 7:28 PM EST.[/i]
[I]This is a work of fiction I have written concerning Call of Duty: World at War's "Nazi Zombies" mode, which I'm sure a good number of you have either played, seen, or heard of. I was inspired to write this due to a large group of overzealous Nazi Zombies players who began to theorize over an underlying plot that existed in the maps released by Treyarch. I began writing this almost a year ago, and I'm hoping that I can finally convince myself to finish it. (The original storyline I had envisioned was rather long, and could easily encompass a full novel.) So, I hope you enjoy.[/I]
[img]http://i419.photobucket.com/albums/pp280/Ghost_G45/CallofDutyWorldAtWarNaziZombiesB-7.jpg[/img]
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[B]Introduction...[/B]
Raising the dead. Reanimating the deceased. These have been the fevered dreams of madmen and geniuses. Controlling those which can not be killed in an army to destroy their enemies. As the ranks of the confused and panicked enemy lessen, the ranks of the dead are bolstered. There would be no stopping them.
Their need for rest, unknown.
Their need for hunger, they have none.
Their need for flesh, a craving desire.
Their numbers... Near endless.
What entire armies and weapons could not do, an army of those who have passed on could do in days. In a blitzkrieg, a lightning war. The perfect weapon. A wunderwaffe. They would be man's crowning achievement of destroying each other. A monument to all the years of advancing in weapons to kill man's enemies. They would be the beauty of annihilation.
Many theorized after the second world war what the Germans had had in store. It had been proven for a long time that the Third Reich had commissioned experiments on nuclear warfare. But what else, exactly, had the Nazis been planning? Designing? Creating?
Conspiracy theories of propulsionary flight, weapons capable of razing cities and rooting up entire armies. The discovery of lost journals and reports are still today giving more of an idea of what the Third Reich could've created, had the war not turned sour for them.
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[B]December 13th, 1941...[/B]
A plane flies high above the clouds. Its cargo: an experiment on the way to "the Giant." To a specific scientist who plans to utilize them to help turn the tide of the war, in the name of the Fuhrer. The plane had departed only just two hours ago, from a deep swamp on an uncharted island off the coast of Japan.
The night is black as pitch. The winds are near gale-like, and the clouds have turned dark in threaten of a storm. Below, there are abandoned homes and structures. Old military outposts from Japan's spread into China, and burnt out hiding places where the fleeing Chinese had attempted to take refuge.
Lieutenant Yager and Captain Amherst lounge quietly in the cockpit of the cargo plane. Yager reads a small book that he had withdrew from his coat pocket and Amherst held the controls of the plane, allowing it to glide through the air.
Taking into consideration the highly serious and volatile cargo they were carrying, they were rather calm and nonchalant.
Corporal Haswell sits on one of the seats attached to the lower wall in the small metal room that separates the cockpit from the rest of the ship. He rests his back against the wall, sleep clinging to him at the edges of his mind. He closes his eyes for a moment, to gain a little concentration and focus.
Haswell thinks of home, and of the events that have taken place since he last saw his family. Were they still back in Germany? Had they evacuated? Were they still alive? These thoughts brought him no comfort.
Haswell could not but fear for what may have happened to his family. They were unwanted. Undesirables of society. He had joined the army to hopefully throw off the trail and convince the Reich that his family was truly German. A feeling of discomfort and loneliness comes over Haswell as he clutches the Star of David hidden underneath his layers of clothes. Sleep clang to him, and he succumbed to it willingly...
A clang of metal. Somewhere nearby, the twisting of steel seemed to screech through the depths of Haswell's mind as he jumped with a start, awakening from his slumber. He looked around, confused. The noise continued, louder now, as steel raked against some metallic surface like nails on a chalkboard.
The cockpit hatch opened, Captain Amherst standing in the opening with a worried look on his face. In his hand, he held a Walther pistol, his finger brushing the trigger. Haswell jumped to his feet, and spoke hurriedly to Amherst in German, "What is it?"
Amherst only rose his finger to his closed mouth, signaling him to be silent. Amherst made his way over to Haswell, and stood right in front of him. Amherst, a large man standing at 6' 3" and weighing 230 pounds, made Haswell pale in comparison, only standing at 5' 7", standing before the giant.
Haswell looked into Amherst's eyes. They were filled with some sort of burning hatred. Haswell saw the fire that only filled the eyes of those few in the ranks of the German military forces that truly hated people of Jewish kin. They were the ones that truly believed every word Hitler spoke, and hated the Jews as much as their Fuhrer did.
Haswell was shocked. How did Amherst know? He must know, there was no other explanation. Amherst pointed at the floor of the metal cabin. Haswell looked down, and the Star of David was there at his feet, looking up at him. The necklace must've fallen from his neck when he had fallen asleep holding it.
He looked back up at Amherst, who had moved the sidearm up to Haswell's head. Haswell braced for the end. He knew it was over, that Amherst was about to fire the round through his skull and cause his brain matter to spew out all over the wall of the cabin.
Amherst would land with Yager, and he would be decorated as a hero for eliminating the scheming Jude who had planned to sabotage the plane and cause the cargo to fail. All lies, but Amherst would tell it his way, and the others would believe him. Haswell would never see his family again, and would die hundreds of feet in the air, thousands of miles from home.
However, in this shocking turn of events, both Amherst and Haswell had forgotten about the screeching metal. Haswell still didn't know what it was, but suddenly the thick steel door that sectioned off the cargo hold from the rest of the plane was torn open. A pair of bloodied hands ripped through the metal, grasping with sickly palms and shredded fingers. Open sores that had no blood running from them scattered across the backsides of the hands.
More hands quickly joined the first pair as Amherst and Haswell looked on in terror. The hands grasped at open air, and continued to try to rip through the door with an inhuman fury. Bone-chilling moans and terrifying growls could be heard from the other side.
Amherst knew immediately what had happened: The "experiments" who had been in the next room along with the other cargo had been bound to the walls by welded metal and put into cages. They must've broken free of their binds and begun seeking to quell their hunger by searching for the nearest living beings, those, unfortunately, being the three-men flight crew.
Haswell was stuck in a shocked stupor, unable to move. He was rooted to the ground, only able to stare on at the evil that was clawing in to get at him. Amherst ran back through the slightly ajar hatch that led to the cockpit.
"They're free! They're trying to break in!" He shouted in German. Yager turned and looked at Amherst, a horrified expression on his face. "What will we do?!" Amherst queried, still yelling in panic.
Yager knew that he had to land the plane. The chances of making it to the ground were slim, but he still had to try. "We will land." He replied quietly, and turned back to the controls.
From the other room, shots could be heard discharging from a Kar98k, a more or less standard bolt-action rifle that had been issued to Haswell for special cargo operations for use in situations just like this. Haswell shouted a cry of terror, and Amherst looked back through the open door.
The monsters had broken through the metal door, and were shambling towards Haswell and the men in the cockpit. Haswell ran to the cockpit door, stopping only to glance at his Star of David before just barely avoiding one of the monster's flailing arms, and running into the cockpit. Amherst and Haswell sealed the thick metal door just before the first of the terrors could reach them.
Haswell looked over at Amherst, who, even in this dire situation, glared at him with that same fiery hatred. Haswell attempted to avoid making further eye contact with Amherst.
The monsters outside were banging and smashing on the door, trying to get in. Yager calmed himself, trying to focus on the plane's controls. "You may want to take a seat," he advised the two standing men. They quickly sat down where they could best manage a seat, and braced themselves.
The plane began to dip, heading almost straight down. Through the cockpit window the clouds were moving quickly, evaporating from their sight as they sped out of them. The lightning from the storm had become, and they could see distant flashes of the light as they sped, ever faster, downward.
Suddenly, a streak of hot lightning collided with the back end of the plane. The aircraft shook violently, throwing Haswell out of his seat and sending Amherst sprawling against one of the metal walls of the cockpit.
Their downward descent became a chaotic spiral as the men were thrown around inside the cabin as the plane circled to the ground, falling out of the sky. The clouds and fog dissipated only two hundred feet from the ground, and they all got one good glance at the earth before they smashed into it. Everything went black.
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[i]Update![/i]
[b]December 14, 1941...[/b]
Amherst woke with a start. He looked around, confused. He saw the concrete walls around him, and suddenly felt cold. He realized he was lying on a hard floor, the cool concrete prickling at his back with icy fingers.
His eyesight was still blurry, and he could just barely see a tall figure walking nearby him. His ears felt stuffed with cotton, and he could hardly hear what he assumed was two men speaking. As he came more to his sense, he realized that the two men were Haswell and Yager.
Amherst sat up and tried to take in more detail of his surroundings. In the corner of the room was a staircase. To his immediate left was a window boarded up with nails and rough planks of wood, as if they had been haphazardly sawed and nailed onto the frames of the now windowless opening. Outside, there was only fog.
He looked down at his wristwatch, but it was cracked and the fingers had stopped turning. He assumed that dawn must've been approaching, for a strange hue of light emitted from the fog, as it would on an early morning in Berlin, where the mists crowded the streets and made it hard to see, and blocked out the rising sun.
Yager looked over at Amherst, and realized he had regained his consciousness. Yager rushed over to the man, and helped him up. Amherst felt sore all over the place. Yager asked, "Are you all right?"
"Yes," Amherst replied, feeling his back, trying to locate the main source of his soreness and misery. Amherst looked over at Haswell, who was sitting on a crate, and immediately felt the same burning passion of hatred he had on the plane, "You! Juden!"
Amherst felt for his pistol, but it was not there. He instead rushed over to Haswell and kicked him off the crate and grabbed him by the collar of his tattered uniform. He was on the verge of smacking Haswell and sending him sprawling, but as he lifted his arm Yager grasped his hand with his iron grip, refusing to let go.
"No." It was only one word, but Yager said it with such serenity and authority that Amherst unintenionally relaxed his arm and let go of Haswell. Yager let go of his arm, and returned to his seat after helping Haswell up off the floor and helping him retrieve his seat.
"But don't you realize, he is a Jew! He is undesirable!" Amherst shouted, regaining his sense of confidence and hate.
"Yes, I know. But he is not a bad man. He saved your life." Yager replied. Amherst looked over at Haswell in shock, but Haswell only returned the look with a blank face, empty of expression.
"When the plane went down, the... Um..." Yager paused, unable to think of a word.
"Monsters," Amherst said blankly, his face turning pale at the thought of them clawing out of the metal door back on the plane.
"Right, the monsters. When the plane went down, the beasts began to shamble towards you. They were completely unaffected, given that the plane had just crashed. They don't suffer from shock like we do."
"Yes." Amherst replied.
"They began to shamble towards you, but Haswell regained his sense in time to fire a few rounds into the first few, and then dragged you to safety. Luckily for us, we found ourselves just outside of this abandoned structure. We assumed it was some sort of outpost, being maintained by the Chinese just before the Japanese ran them out, and then retreated back into central China."
"And where are the creatures now?" Amherst asked, looking around with apprehension. His mind began to imagine them, coming down the stairs and tearing at the windows. He thought he heard noises, their muffled moans above him and around him. Yager's voice snapped him back to reality.
"They retreated into the fog. You were unconscious for a day. While you were gone, they returned. We were out looking for lumber to board up the windows, as you see we have, when we discovered them trying to get into the outpost when we got back. They were trying to find us, but you were the only one inside. We managed to repel them, and a few escaped back into the fog."
"Strange," was all Amherst could manage to say, "How many were there?"
"About a dozen. Considering the five or so Haswell killed when he rescued you, and the six that we counted that were dead from the impact of the crash, there were -" Yager began, but Amherst cut him off.
"Than there were when we took off... That's not good." he said, his face losing more color. How could there be more? Amherst began to make a theory, when all of a sudden, a moan penetrated through the room, sending chills down the men's backs.
"They're back," Haswell said as his face flushed. He picked up his rifle and went up the stairs. "Let's go!" he shouted from above. Yager turned to Amherst.
"Wait here. There may be a few coming from the opposite side, and that means they'll try to break through the barricaded windows down here. You repel them, since you are still weak and may not be able to handle going up there with us." With that, Yager handed Amherst a rifle and headed upstairs, scooping up his MP40 that had been resting on another crate near the stairs.
Amherst stood up, still sore and aching. He looked at the opposite wall. Luckily, there were only two windows, both well boarded up. There was room for him to peer out, and so he limped, as his leg had a strange sensation of burning pain, to the nearest window and looked out.
Through the fog, he could see nothing. Just before the wall of fog enveloped everything, he could see the crashed plane, crates, metal, debris, and other wreckage flung everywhere. Signs of fire were evident on the ground, where scorched earth could be seen.
As soon as the danger was over, he would have to go out to the aircraft and look for the remaining cargo, whatever else there may be left. He had to recover something. It may be the only clue as to why the cadavers are seemingly multiplying.
Suddenly, a figure animated out of the mist. It shambled toward Amherst. From deep in its throat, a hollow and deviant moan echoed. Amherst shivered as the noise passed into his ears. He took aim, and fired. A significant amount of black liquid spurted from the neck, but the necrotic horror kept shambling onward as if nothing happened.
Amherst took aim again, and shot it in the head. The skull cracked, and the cadaver fell over, black liquid pouring from the hole where its eye had been. Amherst took a moment to rest, calming his nerves after seeing the monster.
They were truly a horrid sight, still wearing their clothes they had been wearing before they had perished on either a battlefield or on a sick bed, now covered in mud and dirt. Their eyes seemed to glow yellow, but their eyes simply gave the impression that they were. The eyes were truly just sunken and colored to a pale yellow, and were bloodshot. Similar effects on pupils had been seen in the late 1700's, during the Yellow Fever outbreak in the newly formed Americas, as well as in other countries where Yellow Fever ran rampant during the summer time of the year, when the mosquitoes carrying the disease were most active.
But the yellow eyes effect on the monsters were not caused by disease-infested flies, or of any other natural causes. Amherst knew this, having read many of the notes, reports, and journals on them.
The researchers had found out that the "Yellow Eyes Effect" was the cause of Ununpentium, element 115, which had been used in the later experiments. The element emitted a yellow gleam, that was reflected in the monster's pupils and was what gave the eyes a strange hue of yellow, causing their eyes to seemingly glow yellow.
Amherst began to contemplate more, but suddenly he turned to the window, which was on the opposite wall of the one he was standing at, to see one of the beasts ripping off the first of the boards. Amherst shrieked, and aimed his rifle. He fired, and hit the zombie on the arm as it tore at another one of the boards.
Amherst fired once more, and the corpse fell to the ground outside. He panted. He had been taken off guard, and he would not allow his thoughts to wander again.
It could cost him his life. Or maybe save him from this waking nightmare. Or become a part of it.
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[i][b]To be continued...[/b][/i]
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I'm open to all constructive criticism, as I'm really hoping to improve this and finally get it finished. Thanks for reading, and let me know if you have any questions. I'll update with the newest portion tomorrow. I appreciate all comments. :)
the night is black as pitch.
What?
[QUOTE=Mr. Scorpio;23044786]the night is black as pitch.
What?[/QUOTE]
I remember writing that and thinking "What the fuck?", but then later on I found out it's a legitimate way to describe darkness. But I think I'm going to change it anyway.
[QUOTE=GhostG45;23044832]I remember writing that and thinking "What the fuck?", but then later on I found out it's a legitimate way to describe darkness. But I think I'm going to change it anyway.[/QUOTE]
Why? It's just another way of saying "pitch black." Unique, at least, in that it trips up kiddies who don't actually know what pitch is. I'd keep it.
[QUOTE=Xenocidebot;23045037]Why? It's just another way of saying "pitch black." Unique, at least, in that it trips up kiddies who don't actually know what pitch is. I'd keep it.[/QUOTE]
You know, I didn't think of it that way. Thanks for that, I'll keep it.
[QUOTE=GhostG45;23045226]You know, I didn't think of it that way. Thanks for that, I'll keep it.[/QUOTE]
Keep it, it makes perfect sense. Don't know why he even pointed it out anyway.
Yeah, I'm keeping it. So going past that, what'd you think of the rest of it?
Also, I'll update tomorrow with a new piece.
pitch black is a reference to how dark "pitch" is, which is a viscous substance produced by plants or formed from petroleum. perfectly acceptable to say 'black as pitch', though gramatically unsound at first glance due to the colloquialism.
ANYWAYS, it's a good story, but I think you tried to hard to stretch it out with large words, phrases and so on.
[quote]"What will we do?!" Amherst queried, still yelling in panic.[/quote]
^that came off awkward in particular... saying 'queried' when they're in a frenzied yell just doesn't seem fitting situationally, just filling. I'm sure if you read it over and thought about what [i]needs[/i] to be there, what looks nice, and what is probably filler, you'll spot one or two things that could be snipped to strengthen the mood instead of divert the reader's thought from what's going on.
meh, just my two cents. Welcome to the forum, by the way, glad to see some fresh talent.
Yeah i fucking love Nazi Zombies, I bought cod5 just simply for the Nazi Zombie part.
[QUOTE=daijitsu;23047720]
^that came off awkward in particular... saying 'queried' when they're in a frenzied yell just doesn't seem fitting situationally, just filling. I'm sure if you read it over and thought about what [i]needs[/i] to be there, what looks nice, and what is probably filler, you'll spot one or two things that could be snipped to strengthen the mood instead of divert the reader's thought from what's going on.
meh, just my two cents. Welcome to the forum, by the way, glad to see some fresh talent.[/QUOTE]
I'll give it a quick read-through before adding the next part. I can see where you're coming from, thanks for the input.
Going to go ahead and throw out an update. I'll read over the original in a little bit and make some corrections if I find them, but until then enjoy this update.
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[b]December 14, 1941...[/b]
Amherst woke with a start. He looked around, confused. He saw the concrete walls around him, and suddenly felt cold. He realized he was lying on a hard floor, the cool concrete prickling at his back with icy fingers.
His eyesight was still blurry, and he could just barely see a tall figure walking nearby him. His ears felt stuffed with cotton, and he could hardly hear what he assumed was two men speaking. As he came more to his sense, he realized that the two men were Haswell and Yager.
Amherst sat up and tried to take in more detail of his surroundings. In the corner of the room was a staircase. To his immediate left was a window boarded up with nails and rough planks of wood, as if they had been haphazardly sawed and nailed onto the frames of the now windowless opening. Outside, there was only fog.
He looked down at his wristwatch, but it was cracked and the fingers had stopped turning. He assumed that dawn must've been approaching, for a strange hue of light emitted from the fog, as it would on an early morning in Berlin, where the mists crowded the streets and made it hard to see, and blocked out the rising sun.
Yager looked over at Amherst, and realized he had regained his consciousness. Yager rushed over to the man, and helped him up. Amherst felt sore all over the place. Yager asked, "Are you all right?"
"Yes," Amherst replied, feeling his back, trying to locate the main source of his soreness and misery. Amherst looked over at Haswell, who was sitting on a crate, and immediately felt the same burning passion of hatred he had on the plane, "You! Juden!"
Amherst felt for his pistol, but it was not there. He instead rushed over to Haswell and kicked him off the crate and grabbed him by the collar of his tattered uniform. He was on the verge of smacking Haswell and sending him sprawling, but as he lifted his arm Yager grasped his hand with his iron grip, refusing to let go.
"No." It was only one word, but Yager said it with such serenity and authority that Amherst unintenionally relaxed his arm and let go of Haswell. Yager let go of his arm, and returned to his seat after helping Haswell up off the floor and helping him retrieve his seat.
"But don't you realize, he is a Jew! He is undesirable!" Amherst shouted, regaining his sense of confidence and hate.
"Yes, I know. But he is not a bad man. He saved your life." Yager replied. Amherst looked over at Haswell in shock, but Haswell only returned the look with a blank face, empty of expression.
"When the plane went down, the... Um..." Yager paused, unable to think of a word.
"Monsters," Amherst said blankly, his face turning pale at the thought of them clawing out of the metal door back on the plane.
"Right, the monsters. When the plane went down, the beasts began to shamble towards you. They were completely unaffected, given that the plane had just crashed. They don't suffer from shock like we do."
"Yes." Amherst replied.
"They began to shamble towards you, but Haswell regained his sense in time to fire a few rounds into the first few, and then dragged you to safety. Luckily for us, we found ourselves just outside of this abandoned structure. We assumed it was some sort of outpost, being maintained by the Chinese just before the Japanese ran them out, and then retreated back into central China."
"And where are the creatures now?" Amherst asked, looking around with apprehension. His mind began to imagine them, coming down the stairs and tearing at the windows. He thought he heard noises, their muffled moans above him and around him. Yager's voice snapped him back to reality.
"They retreated into the fog. You were unconscious for a day. While you were gone, they returned. We were out looking for lumber to board up the windows, as you see we have, when we discovered them trying to get into the outpost when we got back. They were trying to find us, but you were the only one inside. We managed to repel them, and a few escaped back into the fog."
"Strange," was all Amherst could manage to say, "How many were there?"
"About a dozen. Considering the five or so Haswell killed when he rescued you, and the six that we counted that were dead from the impact of the crash, there were -" Yager began, but Amherst cut him off.
"Than there were when we took off... That's not good." he said, his face losing more color. How could there be more? Amherst began to make a theory, when all of a sudden, a moan penetrated through the room, sending chills down the men's backs.
"They're back," Haswell said as his face flushed. He picked up his rifle and went up the stairs. "Let's go!" he shouted from above. Yager turned to Amherst.
"Wait here. There may be a few coming from the opposite side, and that means they'll try to break through the barricaded windows down here. You repel them, since you are still weak and may not be able to handle going up there with us." With that, Yager handed Amherst a rifle and headed upstairs, scooping up his MP40 that had been resting on another crate near the stairs.
Amherst stood up, still sore and aching. He looked at the opposite wall. Luckily, there were only two windows, both well boarded up. There was room for him to peer out, and so he limped, as his leg had a strange sensation of burning pain, to the nearest window and looked out.
Through the fog, he could see nothing. Just before the wall of fog enveloped everything, he could see the crashed plane, crates, metal, debris, and other wreckage flung everywhere. Signs of fire were evident on the ground, where scorched earth could be seen.
As soon as the danger was over, he would have to go out to the aircraft and look for the remaining cargo, whatever else there may be left. He had to recover something. It may be the only clue as to why the cadavers are seemingly multiplying.
Suddenly, a figure animated out of the mist. It shambled toward Amherst. From deep in its throat, a hollow and deviant moan echoed. Amherst shivered as the noise passed into his ears. He took aim, and fired. A significant amount of black liquid spurted from the neck, but the necrotic horror kept shambling onward as if nothing happened.
Amherst took aim again, and shot it in the head. The skull cracked, and the cadaver fell over, black liquid pouring from the hole where its eye had been. Amherst took a moment to rest, calming his nerves after seeing the monster.
They were truly a horrid sight, still wearing their clothes they had been wearing before they had perished on either a battlefield or on a sick bed, now covered in mud and dirt. Their eyes seemed to glow yellow, but their eyes simply gave the impression that they were. The eyes were truly just sunken and colored to a pale yellow, and were bloodshot. Similar effects on pupils had been seen in the late 1700's, during the Yellow Fever outbreak in the newly formed Americas, as well as in other countries where Yellow Fever ran rampant during the summer time of the year, when the mosquitoes carrying the disease were most active.
But the yellow eyes effect on the monsters were not caused by disease-infested flies, or of any other natural causes. Amherst knew this, having read many of the notes, reports, and journals on them.
The researchers had found out that the "Yellow Eyes Effect" was the cause of Ununpentium, element 115, which had been used in the later experiments. The element emitted a yellow gleam, that was reflected in the monster's pupils and was what gave the eyes a strange hue of yellow, causing their eyes to seemingly glow yellow.
Amherst began to contemplate more, but suddenly he turned to the window, which was on the opposite wall of the one he was standing at, to see one of the beasts ripping off the first of the boards. Amherst shrieked, and aimed his rifle. He fired, and hit the zombie on the arm as it tore at another one of the boards.
Amherst fired once more, and the corpse fell to the ground outside. He panted. He had been taken off guard, and he would not allow his thoughts to wander again.
It could cost him his life. Or maybe save him from this waking nightmare. Or become a part of it.
"Their need for hunger, they have none" - You're saying they need/don't have hunger? You probably didn't mean that - apart from that, this is grammatically incorrect. I think you're trying too hard to sound pretty and poetic here.
While "black as pitch" DOES work, it does sound pretty awkward and might trip up readers. It's not "original" or any of that because it's simply a cheap twist on a horrible cliche.
"Lieutenant Yager and Captain Amherst lounge quietly" - is 'quietly' really necessary? I think 'lounge' implies it.
Too many line breaks, particularly at the beginning. Every sentence stands on its own. Isolating a sentence is used to place emphasis on it and draw attention to it, but you're doing this for every single sentence so it doesn't really work.
You don't even mention the "experiments" until they come barging through a door - they're pretty significant to the story and I think foreshadowing this would be nice. Throughout your story, you tend to be a bit late with explaining things. You give little background information on the situation, and then at some point in the story you say "oh, by the way, some huge detail to the plot, and it caused some turning point in the story."
"Sleep clang to him" - the word you're looking for is 'clung'.
How does a necklace just "fall off"?
"Bone-chilling moans and terrifying growls could be heard from the other side." - phrases like this really bother me because you focus more on sounding poetic than saying what you really mean. They "could" be heard? Sure, they COULD, but don't you want to tell us that the main characters actually are hearing them?
I honestly found the first entry quite boring to read through because you focus so much on detail, but none of it is effective, original, or even important to the story. Very little is actually happening because you're too focused on being wordy. Try and cut out some of your descriptions of things, and use metaphor and simile to add to the imagery. Try to come up with your own metaphor instead of going with whatever sounds most practical to you.
Your tone and emphasis seem completely wrong throughout the first entry. You begin sounding very dramatic, using shorter and more sudden sentences while attempting to describe a dark setting. The thing is, the whole description the entry starts with is completely pointless to the story. Your story takes place on a plane, and judging by the story, I don't think the main characters are spending their day staring out the windows.
Your tense changes. You start out in present tense and then switch to past tense, though the story is clearly progressing forward.
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