1 MINUTE AGO: Expedition X Crew SHUT DOWN After Terrifying Discovery in the Jungle…

The Expedition X crew was forced to shut down their investigation deep inside an uncharted sector of the jungle. And what they found out there is something the world was never supposed to see. A discovery so disturbing that production immediately halted. Crew members were evacuated and Josh Gates himself stepped in to confront what really happened.
Tonight, we break down the full story.
the audio, the thermal footage, the creature encounter, and the unexplainable event that nearly ended the entire Expedition X series. Before we continue, make sure you subscribe because once you hear what they uncovered, you’ll understand why the jungle wanted them gone. The journey began long before the cameras started rolling. Josh Gates had been hearing whispers for years, cryptic tribal warnings, satellite anomalies, and a series of disappearances the locals refused to discuss. All of them centered around one isolated sector of jungle known only by a name that didn’t appear on any map. Lazona Prohibida, the forbidden zone. Expedition X had filmed in extreme places before. Volcano rims, abandoned mines, haunted islands. But this [music] request from the network felt different. It wasn’t a mission they volunteered for. It was a mission the locals begged them not to take. Every guide turned them down instantly. Some refused to even speak the name of the region. Others warned that people who entered those trees often walked out a different person, if they walked out at all. Finally, one elderly guide agreed, but only after making them swear to rules that sounded more like survival rights than instruction. No splitting up, no loud talking, no bright lights.
After sundown, no whistling and absolutely never turn around if they heard their own names whispered from behind. Even Josh, who thrived on the unknown, felt a pressure in his chest as they stepped beneath the dense canopy.
The jungle swallowed every trace of the outside world. Sunlight dimmed to a dull green glow. Humidity thickened, [music] and the temperature rose until every breath felt like steam. Within the first hour, things went wrong. Their GPS units flickered. Compasses spun in slow circles and the boom mic recorded a faint frequency no one could identify.
The guide stopped in his tracks, head tilted as if listening to something only he could hear. He whispered, “It knows.” Jess and Phil exchanged glances, uneasy, unsure. But this was expedition X, and they weren’t turning back. Not yet. Far ahead, something moved. Not an animal, not wind, something deliberate. And with that single motion, their investigation crossed a threshold they could never return from. The deeper the crew pushed into Lazona Prohibida, the more it felt like the jungle itself was shifting around them, tightening, listening, waiting. Jess noticed it first. She stopped midstep, raising her hand for silence. Her eyes narrowed at the treeine. “Do you hear that?” she whispered. Phil didn’t. Josh didn’t, but the guide did. His entire face drained of color. It wasn’t the usual jungle chorus. No birds, no insects, not even the distant rustle of monkeys. It was the absence of sound that made every hair on their bodies stand on end. A silence so [music] complete it felt engineered, manufactured, intentional.
Jess raised her thermal camera toward the trees. At first, nothing. Then, a shape, a form, cold, motionless, tall, humanoid. It stood behind a curtain of vines just far enough away that its outline flickered like a glitch on a corrupted file. Jess zoomed in. The shape tilted its head. “Is that a person?” Phil whispered, but the guide shook his head slowly, trembling. “Not a person. Not anymore.” Before they could get closer, the air changed. A low vibration hummed through the ground, soft, but unmistakable, as if something enormous was moving beneath the soil.
Their equipment reacted instantly. EMF spikes across multiple devices. audio recorders capturing a deep rhythmic pulse like a heartbeat under rock. Then the jungle exhaled. A sudden gust of wind blasted through the trees, bending branches backward as leaves spiraled around them. Equipment cases slammed shut. Cables whipped across the dirt.
The thermal signature vanished in an instant, evaporating like steam. And then came the whistle. A soft, deliberate twonote sound from deep inside the foliage, mimicking the exact whistle Phil had used earlier to call Jess over to check the drone batteries.
The guide spun around, eyes wild. No whistling, he hissed. I told you it calls back. Josh called out, “Who’s there? Come out!” Silence. Then again, Phil’s whistle perfectly copied, but this time much closer. The crew froze.
Something in that jungle wasn’t just observing them. It was learning them.
repeating them, studying them like prey.
And the worst part was still ahead.
After the whistles, the crew knew they needed eyes in the sky. If something or [music] someone was stalking them, the drone was their only chance to see it.
Without getting closer, Phil powered it up, but even that didn’t go smoothly.
The drone’s calibration kept failing.
Warning sensors flickering between obstacle detected and GPS interference.
Still, after several resets, the machine finally lifted through the canopy. The moment it broke above the tree line, Phil’s expression shifted from relief to confusion. “Guys, something’s wrong with the horizon.” Josh stepped beside him.
Instead of the lush, uninterrupted jungle they expected. The drone camera showed something impossible. An enormous perfect circle carved directly into the forest floor. No trees, no brush, just an exposed ring of earth about 200 ft wide. Too smooth to be natural, too old to be recent. Jess zoomed in, her breath caught. In the center of the clearing was a network of symbols etched into the soil. Spirals, intersecting lines, geometric shapes that didn’t [music] match any indigenous markings they had studied. Some glowed faintly on thermal, radiating heat despite no visible fire or machinery. “How long has that been here?” she whispered. Phil nudged the drone lower. As he did, the audio feed began picking up a strange static like whispering [music] wrapped in distortion. Not voices, but patterns almost coded. The symbols grew clearer.
The team could see deep grooves like they had been carved with precision tool. But by who and why in a place so remote that even the maps avoided it.
Then movement. The drone caught a distortion at the edge of the circle.
Not a body, not an animal. a shimmer like heat mirage bending the light around a shape that wasn’t fully visible. It pulsed once, then darted behind the trees with unnatural speed.
“What was that?” Jess gasped. Phil tried to pull the drone back up, but the screen glitched, then warped, then ripened into a violent cascade of static as something slammed into the drone midair. The final frame captured a blurred silhouette, long, thin limbs, a reflective sheen across its surface, and then the feed died. The drone spiraled into the trees with a bone cracking crash, and the jungle went silent again, as [music] if waiting to see what the crew would do next. After the drone fell, Josh made the call no one wanted to hear. We’re retrieving it. Whatever hit that drone, we need to know what it was. The team pushed deeper into the jungle, following Phil’s tracker. The humidity thickened until every breath felt weighted. Jess kept scanning the trees with her thermal imager, but the screen kept glitching. Heat signatures flaring and vanishing like something was darting between the branches, too fast for the eye to catch. When they finally reached the crash site, the drone was crumpled in a bed of leaves. Its casing split open, its lens cracked inward, but the way it was damaged didn’t match a fall. The metal was indented outward, like something had gripped it mid-flight and crushed it before dropping it. Josh crouched, running his fingers over the warped shell. “This wasn’t an animal,” he whispered. Phil didn’t answer. He already knew. Then Jess called out softly. “Guys, you’re going to want to see this.” Just beyond the crash site, the jungle floor dropped into a shallow basin. Vines and moss had grown over the edges, but [music] the shape was unmistakable, a man-made depression, nearly symmetrical. As they stepped down into it, the air felt noticeably colder.
Unnaturally, impossibly colder. In the center was a stone platform, not a ruin, not debris, a constructed altar, its edges carved with careful precision. The stone was dark, almost metallic, and bore markings identical to the symbols they saw from the drone. Spirals, intersecting angles, and geometric shapes that didn’t match any indigenous databases. “What is this doing out here?” Jess asked, voice trembling. Josh touched the stone’s surface. It vibrated, subtle, but unmistakable, like a low frequency hum pulsing from deep within. Not mechanical, not natural, something else. Phil pointed to the ground. Large tracks, humanoid, but wrong, surrounded the altar. Not footprints exactly, more like where something had pressed into the soil with weight, but without toes, arches, or heel marks. Smooth, uniform, almost molded. Jess tapped her radio. We should report this to command. This isn’t just archaeology. This is her voice cut off as the radios erupted with the same distorted whispering the drone captured.
The signal swirled in their earpieces like mechanical breaths layered over distant speech. Josh slowly removed his earpiece. They don’t want us calling this in,” he said quietly. The jungle, dense and watchful, seemed to close in around them, pressing, listening, as if the ritual site had been disturbed for the first time in decades. and something near it had finally awakened. The team backed away from the altar, trying to regroup, but the atmosphere had changed.
The constant hum of insects, the everpresent background music of the jungle had stopped entirely. No birds, no buzzing, no rustling, just a heavy, suffocating stillness. Jess whispered, “This is wrong. The jungle never goes silent.” Josh lifted his camcorder, scanning the treeine. The foliage looked normal, but every instinct in his body screamed that they were being watched.
Phil stepped ahead, his machete raised slightly, not as a weapon, but to feel the vibrations in the air. He could sense it, too. Something was moving, but not through the brush above them. A faint clicking noise echoed [music] from the canopy, slow, rhythmic, deliberate, not an animal, not mechanical, something [music] in between. Jess aimed her thermal imager upward, but the screen immediately fractured into static before freezing on a single warped image. A tall, elongated silhouette crouched against a tree trunk. Its head tilted unnaturally to one side. Then the screen went black. Josh’s heartbeat hammered in his chest. “We’re not alone out here,” he said, barely audible. Suddenly, a crash erupted behind them. Branches snapped violently, as if something enormous had leapt from tree to tree.
Phil spun so fast his pack nearly tore off. Jess raised her flashlight just in time to catch a streak of movement.
Something long, dark, and disturbingly smooth disappearing behind the vines.
They bolted. Josh led the way up the slope, but halfway up he froze, raising a hand to stop the others. On the ground ahead of them lay a trail of disturbed soil, like something had been dragging itself or being dragged toward a narrow tunnel-like opening hidden beneath a lattice of roots. Phil crouched and brushed away the leaves. The opening led underground, extending deeper than the beam of his flashlight could penetrate.
Jess whispered, “Is that fresh?” It was.
The earth was still wet, still warm.
Before they could decide whether to investigate, the clicking [music] sound returned louder now, and coming from inside the tunnel, Phil jerked back instantly. “Nope, no way. That thing is down there.” But then, from deeper inside the underground passage, a sound drifted out. low, guttural, almost human, like someone calling for help.
Jess stepped forward. It sounded like, “No,” Josh said sharply. “That isn’t a person,” the voice came again closer.
This time, it whispered Josh’s name.
Josh stumbled backward the moment he heard his own name echo from inside the tunnel. The voice was low, wavering, [music] and carried a strange distortion, like it was being forced through layers of stone. Jess immediately swung her flashlight toward the opening, her breath trembling.
[music] Phil raised his machete instinctively, eyes locked on the darkness. Josh, healed. The voice came again, this time unmistakably familiar. Jess gasped. That sounded like the missing ranger. The one they said vanished last month. Josh didn’t answer. Every rational part of him knew it made no sense, but the emotional reaction hit hard. He had interviewed [music] that ranger’s family. He remembered the voice, the cadence, the tone. This wasn’t it? Not exactly. It was close but wrong in subtle ways like a recording played through damaged speakers. Phil crouched low, studying the tunnel. This is mimicry. Nothing human moves like that or sounds like that. His voice cracked with unease. Even he, the skeptic, was shaken. The jungle wind picked up suddenly, but the leaves around them barely moved. It was as if the air itself was being pulled toward the tunnel’s mouth. Jess held out her hand and felt a faint suction, a slow inhale coming from the subterranean passage.
“Something down there was breathing,” Jess whispered. “We need to back away now.” Josh nodded. But before they could retreat, a thin sliver of movement appeared in the tunnel, pale, bending, almost jointless. It looked like a hand, but the fingers were too long, too smooth. They moved independently, curling into the dirt like roots seeking water. Then the voice shifted, not pleading, commanding, “Come down. Come see.” Phil grabbed Josh by the collar and yanked him back just as the fingers pressed further out of the darkness, dragging lines in the soil like they were testing it. Jess aimed her thermal camera again. It flickered violently, then locked onto a shape, something tall, thin, standing upright, just beyond the flashlight’s reach, but the thermal signature was backwards. The coldest part was its center, while the outer edges glowed like heat was radiating away from the body instead of [music] through it. “What is that?” she whispered. A sharp crack rang out behind them. Something moving fast through the branches above. The creature in the tunnel jerked back instantly, [music] retreating with inhuman speed. The clicking sound returned, rippling through the trees in a pattern, almost like a warning. Phil whispered, “We’re being surrounded.” That wasn’t the only one. They turned to run and the jungle lit up with glowing eyes. Jess froze first, her flashlight trembling as she slowly scanned the trees. One by one, small reflective eyes winked into existence. Dozens of them hovering between the branches low to the ground, up high, scattered in every direction.
They didn’t blink like animals. They didn’t sway with the wind. They stayed perfectly still, as if each pair were painted onto the night itself. Phil [music] whispered. “Those aren’t animals. Animals move.” Josh swallowed hard. “Are they watching us or waiting for us?” The clicking sound intensified, spreading through the canopy like invisible chains, snapping [music] in sequence, each one closer than the last.
It wasn’t random. It had rhythm, intention. Jess held up her audio recorder, and the software struggled to process the layers of frequencies, producing only jittering, corrupted waveforms. Something’s communicating, she said, but not with us. With each other. Leaves rustled overhead. Phil looked up and his face drained of color.
Josh, they’re above us. Josh aimed his light upward and saw elongated silhouettes clinging to the branches like giant malformed insects. Their limbs were wrong. Too many joints, too much flexibility, and their skin, though pale, shimmerred like something wet beneath tree bark. One of the creatures shifted its head and [music] its eyes caught their lights again, reflective, empty, almost metallic. Jess whispered, “We need to move now.” They backed away slowly, trying not to disturb the forest floor. But with every step, the eyes followed, unblinking. The clicking stopped abruptly. Silence. Then a deep vibration rolled under their feet as if something massive had shifted underground. Birds shot from the trees in a panicked wave. The foliage to the left exploded in motion as an enormous shadow darted between trunks, faster than anything that size should move.
Jess screamed, “Go!” They ran, branches whipping across their faces, roots tripping their boots, the jungle closing in like it wanted to swallow them whole.
Phil tried to keep his bearings, but the terrain twisted unnaturally. Trails they had walked earlier suddenly gone or rearranged. Josh looked back once and instantly wished he hadn’t. One of the creatures was moving through the trees parallel to them, its limbs stretching unnaturally wide before snapping forward like a spider diving toward prey. Its skin wasn’t pale anymore. It was glowing faintly, blue like static electricity building in a storm. Phil shouted, “Lft the river. Go to the river.” Branches cracked behind them. Heavy footsteps too deliberate to be an animal. The eyes in the trees vanished all at once, as if something larger had stepped into their view, blotting out everything. Josh could feel it now. They weren’t being hunted by multiple creatures. They were being herded toward [music] something, something waiting ahead. The jungle opened into a clearing so suddenly that the expedition X crew nearly stumbled into the river before realizing something was wrong. The water wasn’t flowing. It lay perfectly still, smooth, black, and reflective like a sheet of polished obsidian. Even the moon’s reflection looked distorted, bending and twisting as if the river [music] itself were rejecting the light. Jess stepped back immediately. Rivers don’t do that.
Not naturally. Josh tapped the surface with the end of his machete. A jolt of cold vibrated up the metal into his arm, sharp enough to make him gasp. Phil grabbed him. Don’t touch it. Not again.
Then the clicking began. Not scattered, not random. A single deliberate pattern coming from deep inside the jungle. Each click echoed with equal spacing, almost like a coded pulse traveling through the trees. The hair on Jess’s arms lifted.
It’s signaling something. A shape stepped out of the foliage. Tall, too tall. Its outline flickered like heat haze, as though the creature’s body interfered with the air around it. When Jess raised her flashlight, the beam bent around the figure instead of landing on it, as if the creature existed in a place the light couldn’t reach. Josh whispered, “That’s not possible.” The creature tilted its [music] head, studying them with an intelligence that felt old, older than the jungle itself. The clicking stopped, the hum began. A low, bone deep vibration rolled across the clearing, strong enough to make Phil’s camera glitch in his hands. The screen filled with static and warp pixels. Jess shouted, “It’s affecting the electronics.” Vines behind them suddenly twisted together, sealing off the path they came from. The forest itself was moving, trapping them. Josh grabbed their arms. “Go the other way.” But the creature stepped forward, blocking the river. Its body pulsed with dim blue white strands that moved under its skin like flowing circuits. The hum grew louder, stronger. Jess buckled to one knee. Phil’s camera fell to the ground, still recording until the lens cracked on its own and shut off. Then silence.
The creature raised one long arm and pointed at the broken camera before vanishing in a sudden gust of wind that sent leaves spiraling. When Phil lunged for the camera, it was gone. “It took it,” he whispered. “It didn’t want proof.” A moment later, the vines behind them unwound, revealing a narrow escape path. They didn’t question it. They ran.
Back at camp, the producers saw their [music] faces white, shaking, unable to speak, and shut down the shoot at sunrise. Every recording device malfunctioned, every battery drained. 2 weeks later, Phil received a package with no return address. Inside was his missing camera. Every file was wiped clean except one. A 3-second clip of the motionless river with a tall luminous figure reflected in the water staring