Some names and details in this story have been changed to preserve anonymity and confidentiality.

Not all the photographs are of the actual scene.

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On August 14, 2016, at 8:40 a.m, surveillance cameras at the Nagasaki port terminal captured two young women animatedly discussing their upcoming trip.

Betty Anderson, 25, and her best friend, Dona Wise, 26, looked like ordinary tourists looking for adventure.

In their backpacks they carried professional photographic equipment and in their hands they held the tickets for that morning’s Black Diamond ferry.

Their destination was Hashima Island, better known as Gunanjima, an abandoned concrete labyrinth 9 miles off the coast of Japan that for years had attracted stalkers and history buffs.

According to the coast guard protocol, the ship left the dock at 9 o’clock in the morning.

None of the crew or passengers imagined then that for the two American women that trip would be fatal.

When at 4:30 in the afternoon, the Ferry captain began the mandatory roll call before returning to the mainland, two surnames on the list went unanswered.

Betty and Dona disappeared without a trace among the ruins of the dead city, leaving no trace except for the last images next to the famous stairway to hell.

What seemed like an accident in a dangerous area would later become one of the most terrible secrets that the phantom island had hidden in its flooded cellars for three long years.

On August 14, 2016, the temperature at the Nagasaki port terminal reached 35ºC.

The air was thick and humid, permeated with the smell of salt and diesel fuel.

Among the crowd of tourists crowding the ticket booths, two young American women, Betty Anderson and Dona Wise, seemed better prepared than the rest for the tough journey.

Betty, 25, and her friend, a year older, wore light but covered clothing and carried bulky tactical backpacks on their backs.

It was not a spontaneous excursion.

According to records later found on Dona’s cloud storage, the girls had been planning this trip for over 6 months.

At 9:15 a.m, the Black Diamond ferry set sail from the pier bound for Hashima Island, known worldwide as Gunjima.

There were 143 passengers and six crew members on board.

The deck surveillance cameras recorded the friends checking their equipment.

His arsenal included two professional Sony Alpha cameras, a set of interchangeable lenses, powerful flashlights, and six additional batteries.

They weren’t looking for souvenir photos.

Their target was the so-called Block 65, a grim nine-story building that was once a miners’ residence and was now in the center of the emergency zone, access to which was strictly prohibited.

They arrived on the island at 10:40.

The concrete massif of Gunjima rose above the sea surrounded by a high protective wall.

The group of tourists was led along a specially prepared route, a path enclosed with metal railings that ran away from dangerous buildings.

The guide, a 60-year-old man with a megaphone, was telling the story of coal mining, but Betty and Dona lagged behind the crowd.

The reconstruction of the events based on the fragmentary testimonies of other tourists indicates that the decisive moment occurred at 11:20.

The group stopped by the ruins of an old school to take photos.

As the guide pointed at the half-ruined facade, the girls stealthily slipped under the rusty chain that blocked the way to the legendary stairway to hell.

A long and steep climb that led into the depths of the residential neighborhoods.

None of the cameras on the tourist trail recorded his return.

They got lost in the concrete maze.

The situation became critical at 4:30 in the afternoon when the ferry was preparing for the return trip.

The ship’s captain performed the mandatory roll call.

Two names, Anderson and Wise, went unanswered.

The procedure was repeated twice.

At 4:45 a.m, the captain contacted the Nagasaki coast guard to report the disappearance of two foreign nationals in closed territory.

The first police units arrived on the island at 6:00 PM.

By then, the sun had already set and the long shadows of the half-collapsed skyscrapers had turned the island into a dark trap.

The operation was led by Lieutenant Tanaka.

He had 30 agents at his disposal, equipped with powerful spotlights.

They divided the accessible area into sectors, but the complexity of Gunkanjima’s architecture made a quick search impossible .

The island was crisscrossed by a network of basements, tunnels, and passageways, most of which were in a state of emergency.

Around 8 p.m, a police helicopter equipped with a thermal imaging camera joined the search.

The pilot reported numerous thermal anomalies, but they all turned out to be concrete heated during the day, which was slowly releasing the heat.

It was technically impossible to distinguish the thermal trail of a person among the hot ruins.

The ground search team reached the old SOVA cinema building, located in the southern part.

There, among the roof debris and trash, one of the officers found a plastic lens cap that fit the cameras the girls had.

It was the only physical evidence found that night.

During the next two weeks , the operation only grew.

Dog handlers with dogs trained to search for live people joined the search.

The dogs confidently followed the trail from where the perimeter was breached near the school and led the group through the inner courtyard of block 30.

But near the entrance to the Cineesa cellars, the tracks abruptly stopped, as if the girls had vanished into thin air.

Coast Guard divers inspected the aquatic area along the protective wall, verifying the theory that the tourists may have fallen into the sea from a height.

The stormy weather that prevailed in the region on August 15 and 16 made the work difficult.

The underwater currents around Gun Kananjima are extremely strong, and the bodies could have been swept miles out to sea in a matter of hours.

However, no fragments of clothing or equipment were found in the water.

The official search phase was concluded on August 28, 2016 .

The final report of the investigation considered the hypothesis of an accident.

Experts suggested that Betty and Dona, in their attempt to obtain spectacular images, entered one of the ruined buildings where a collapse occurred or fell into one of the numerous flooded pits whose depth reached 1000 feet.

Access to these wells was physically impossible for rescue teams due to seawater flooding and debris.

The families of the missing girls received terse official letters expressing condolences.

His belongings, which had been left at the Nagasaki hotel, were sent to the United States .

The case was declared as missing without a trace and the file with the investigation materials was sent to the prefecture’s archives .

The island was emptied again, leaving tourists and guides alone with the concrete skeletons.

However, one of the volunteers who participated in the search in recent days, in a private conversation with a journalist from a local newspaper, mentioned a strange detail that was not included in the official protocol.

While inspecting the perimeter near block 65, he noticed that the heavy metal doors of one of the technical wings, which in the old plans were shown as being at a continuous pace, were welded from the inside.

Recent traces of rust
on the joints indicated that this had not occurred 50 years ago when the mine was closed, but much later.

At the time, nobody paid attention to him, attributing it to the maintenance work on the facility, but the volunteer was sure.

In those days there was no repair crew working on the island and behind those doors there was a silence that seemed louder than the sound of the waves.

On October 12, 2019, Typhoon slammed into the coast of Japan with a destructive force that meteorologists had not recorded in the past 60 years.

The wind speed reached 240 km per hour and the waves crashing against the concrete armor of Gunjima Island breached the protective walls, flooding the lower levels of the dead city.

When the storm subsided, the Nagasaki prefectural administration faced the need to conduct an urgent inspection.

The island, which was already slowly dying under the weight of time and salt, could become a death trap for future tourist groups.

The decision was made to send a special commission to assess the structural integrity of the main routes.

On October 16, at 8:30 in the morning, a boat with a group of engineers and builders docked at the semi-derelict pier.

The group was led by Takeshiamada, an experienced construction engineer who had dedicated more than 20 years to the study of Gunkanima architecture.

They had detailed plans of the underground passages drawn up in the 1950s, powerful flashlights and gas torches in case it was necessary to clear the rubble.

Their main target was Block 30, Japan’s oldest reinforced concrete building, built in 1916.

After the typhoon, there was a risk that the building’s foundations had been undermined, threatening the collapse of the entire seven- story complex.

The inspection began on the upper floors and progressed downwards.

At 11:15, the group descended to level zero.

There was absolute darkness, broken only by the beams of headlamps.

The air was heavy, saturated with humidity and the smell of decay that the storm had brought.

The engineers inspected the support columns by tapping on the concrete and recording new cracks.

According to Takeshi’s report , they advanced through the corridor that was marked on old maps as a mining equipment storage area.

This part of the basement was considered a dead end and had not been visited by inspections for at least 10 years.

At 12:40, one of the workers, upon shining a light on the far end of the corridor, noticed a strange discrepancy.

Among the rusty pipes and peeling walls stood out a huge metal door that gave access to the old technical room of the pumping station.

The door itself was old and covered with a layer of rust, but the hardware looked strange.

The hinges were not simply screwed on, but welded with thick, irregular seams, on which the characteristic layer of rust found throughout the island had not yet accumulated.

Takeshi approached the object.

What he saw forced him to stop the group.

The door was locked from the outside.

It wasn’t a normal hanging padlock like you’d expect in an abandoned warehouse.

It was a huge ship’s bolt welded directly to the door leaf and frame .

The metal of the bolt looked much newer than the surroundings, and the welds were relatively recent, no more than three or four years old.

It couldn’t have been the work of the miners from half a century ago.

It was the work of someone who wanted what was inside to never come out .

Assuming the premises were being used by smugglers as a hideout, the engineer ordered the door to be opened.

At 1:10, the worker lit the blowtorch.

The blue flame pierced the metal, scattering sparks into the darkness of the basement.

The process lasted almost 20 minutes.

The smell of molten iron mingled with the stale air of the basement.

When the last loop was cut , two men lifted the heavy door with levers.

The metal clanged with a loud, prolonged screech, the echo of which resonated through the empty corridors.

The door opened just a few centimeters, stuck in the crooked frame, and at that very moment a sound burst from the darkness of the crack, causing the experienced builders to back away.

It was not the sound of the wind nor the squeal of metal.

It was a high-pitched, animalistic shriek, full of pure, concentrated horror.

The sound was so loud and unnatural that Takeshi later compared it to the cry of a cornered, wounded animal.

The light from five powerful flashlights simultaneously illuminated the opening.

The rays brought a small, low-ceilinged room out of the darkness.

The floor was covered with a layer of trash, hundreds of empty plastic containers, dirty rags, bottles with a yellowish liquid.

In the farthest corner, huddled in a pile of rotten things, was a creature that only remotely resembled a human being.

She was a woman, she was exhausted beyond measure.

His skin, pale as paper, covered his sharp cheekbones and ribs, and his limbs looked like dry branches.

Her hair was tangled in a single dirty tangle that fell over her shoulders.

It was Dona Wise, a woman who had been presumed dead for 3 years, but instead of saving her, the appearance of people caused her to have an uncontrollable fit of hysteria.

He covered his eyes with his hands, trying to hide from the light, and began to bang his back against the wall.

English words came out of his throat, which the workers did not immediately understand because of his broken shout.

Takeshi, who knew a little English, tried to calm her down by taking a step forward.

It was a mistake.

Dona shouted even louder, pointing her bony finger at the half-open door.

According to witnesses, his scream was a plea for death, but not the death they imagined.

” No, don’t let me out!” she screamed, scratching the concrete floor with her nails.

Close the door.

Close the door immediately.

He said the air is poisoned.

They will kill us all.

Don’t let me out.

I will die.

He was breathing in short gasps, panting as if each breath caused him physical pain.

In his eyes, dilated with horror, one could read the absolute conviction that beyond the threshold of that chamber there was only death.

She didn’t recognize people; she only saw in them heralds of the apocalypse.

The workers were paralyzed with shock, but what was most terrifying was that the beam of light from the flashlight, which scanned every corner of the narrow chamber, only revealed the presence of one person amidst the piles of garbage and the stench.

In that concrete crypt where time had stopped 3 years ago, Betty Anderson was not there, there was only an empty corner and the crazed gaze of a woman who was convinced that the outside world had long since burned up.

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On October 16, 2019, at 2:15 p.

m.

, a medical service helicopter landed on the roof of the Nagasaki Prefectural Central Hospital.

Dona Wise’s evacuation was carried out in strict secrecy and biological isolation, but not because of the threat of the virus, but at the patient’s own request.

The woman became hysterical when they tried to take her out of the airtight chamber into the open air.

In order to transport her, the paramedics had to administer a heavy dose of sedatives.

The initial examination in the intensive care unit surprised even the most experienced doctors.

The medical record prepared that day recorded a weight of 38 kg.

It was a case of extreme malnutrition.

The woman’s muscles had atrophied so much that she could not stand on her own, or even hold a glass of water.

Her skin was almost transparent, covered in ulcers from having been constantly in a humid environment and without alcohol exposure for 3 years.

Blood tests revealed a critical deficiency in vitamin D and calcium, which had made her bones as fragile as glass.

But the physical injuries were nothing compared to what had happened to his mind.

When the effect of the sedatives wore off, Dona woke up in a sterile room with a large window through which the sun was setting .

His reaction was immediate and terrible.

He ripped out the IV drips, hid in the darkest corner under the bed, and began to scream desperately, covering his face with his hands.

He demanded that staff immediately cover the windows with black film and put on chemical protective suits.

The psychiatrists, who were urgently called to the ward, diagnosed the patient with a severe paranoid disorder induced by prolonged isolation and psychological pressure.

Nagasaki police investigators who attempted to conduct the first interrogation on October 18 encountered an insurmountable wall of madness.

Dona Wise was absolutely convinced that the world she knew had ceased to exist in August 2016.

From her confused and disjointed accounts recorded on a tape recorder, detectives began to reconstruct what had happened in the basement.

Dona claimed that shortly after her arrival on the island, the third world war had begun.

He spoke of nuclear mushrooms on the horizon and a global epidemic that instantly killed all living beings.

According to her, the surface air had become a deadly poison that corroded the lungs and skin in a matter of minutes.

In this distorted reality, his jailer was not an executioner, but a savior.

She referred to him exclusively as the guardian.

According to her, this man found them when the Apocalypse began and managed to hide in the only safe place, an airtight underground chamber.

Dona recounted how the guardian risked his own life by going to the surface poisoned in a protective suit to find clean food for her.

He brought her canned fish, rice, and water in sealed bottles, claiming they were humanity’s last reserves.

The investigators understood with horror the criminal’s methodology.

He didn’t just lock the woman up between four walls.

Methodically, day after day, he broke her psyche, creating for her an alternate reality in which he was a god and the only source of life.

He fed her with fear, describing in detail how people outside were dying in terrible agonies, how their skin was peeling off their bones, and how cities were turning to ashes.

Dona believed every word he said because it was the only information she received during 1000 days of darkness.

On October 19, the detective tried to gently bring her back to reality.

He showed her the day’s newspaper and photos of a vibrant, modern Nagasaki .

Dona rejected the photos, saying they were fake and that they were proof of the guardian’s altar.

He begged them not to open the doors to the room, convincing the doctors that they were already infected, but didn’t know it yet.

However, the most important question remained the fate of Betty Anderson.

The police knew they had only found one woman in the cell.

When the investigator, lowering his voice, asked, “Dona, where is Betty now? Was she with you in the room?” The patient suddenly fell silent.

She stopped trembling and her gaze became glassy, lost in nothingness.

She began to rock back and forth, hugging herself by the shoulders as if trying to warm herself up.

Tears rolled silently down her sunken cheeks.

“She didn’t listen,” Dona whispered in a voice devoid of emotion.

“She was disobedient.

The warden warned us.

He told us not to go near the exit, but Betty wanted to look.

Dona looked up at the detective, and in her eyes was reflected a primal horror that couldn’t be faked.

She went outside the first day.

She kept breaking into whispers.

She opened the door, and the poison took her.

I heard it through the metal.

I heard her scream.

She screamed for a long time, and then she just melted away.

The warden said there was only a puddle left in the cement.

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