《Expedition: Backrooms》 Chapter 0: The Fall Scoutmaster Diggory¡¯s spacious lungs inhaled the cool mountain air, as he ascended the root-infested dirt trail. The inharmonious sound of a dozen tiny voices nattering filled the air behind him, masking the gentle wind blowing down from the cliffs above. All around the jagged terrain, tall trees tower, scraping the cloudless blue sky with their numerous needles and pines. Squirrels skitter up the grooved bark and chew upon the hard shells of pinecones, hanging from the rough branches like Christmas lights. Amongst the wooden tendrils of the stoic giants, brown, black, and all colours of birds sing their soothing songs. It was Diggory¡¯s third expedition with Scout Troop Forty-Two, the young scouts of Jasper. They had ascended Mount Edith Cavell before and camped amongst the moist grass of the southern plateau. Today would be no different. Diggory felt at home amongst the scattered boulders, untouched and untamed wildlife, and the refreshing air of the mountains. He had felt this way ever since his first expedition when he was just a scout himself; gaining his wilderness badges and spending his time outside of school in the forests of his hometown. He was an explorer at heart, it was his dream. And now, as the Scoutmaster, he was living it out. The twelve children following behind him were just as excited, it wasn¡¯t every day they got to go on an expedition. They were all dressed up in their troop appropriate clothes: brown shorts with hiking boots, a button down short-sleeved shirt with their badge sash slung across, and a dark green ball cap with the troop¡¯s logo sewn into it. Mike and Harry, Jeremy and Marco, Greg and all the other big tykes. Each had a smile plastered upon their innocent faces, yet another aspect of the Scoutmaster job that Diggory enjoyed. He got to share his love of the wilderness with others, some who would become just as passionate as him. ¡°Sir, look!¡± one of the excited children shouted, his finger outstretched above him. Diggory¡¯s eyes traced a line from the boy¡¯s finger up to a branch where an owl sits, brown and white streaks of feathers across its breast. Its beady yellow eyes stare directly into Diggory¡¯s. Strange. ¡°Good eye,¡± Diggory chirped, ¡°that¡¯s a Boreal Owl, a nocturnal bird at home in the mountains of North America! It¡¯s not often people see them since they are shy and mostly active at night.¡± The young scout looked pleased with himself for spotting such a rare sight, despite the strangeness of the occurrence. Diggory¡¯s grandfather used to always say that owls were a sign of bad fortune, even death, but superstition wasn¡¯t Diggory¡¯s thing. Nature, and the creatures living within it, are all beautiful. Time passed as they ascended the craggy trails of the enormous mountain, and the unhindered yellow sun peaked at the sky¡¯s summit; an indication of snack time. The scouts and their hardy leader stepped off the lesser-travelled trail towards some fallen trees covered in moss and polypores, perfect for makeshift benches and chairs. They sat down on the natural seats and set their bags down in front of them, each pulling out a small plastic bag full of trail mix. The snack fit for a bunch of young adventurers. They tucked into their mixtures of nuts and dried fruits, while Diggory sifted through his large grey hiking pack. It was nearly the same size as him, the scouts often wondered how he lugged it around with such ease. First aid? Check. Flare gun? Check. Ample nonperishable food? Check. Hydration pack? Check. Emergency supplies? Check. Camping gear? Check. Everything is here. Though he was thorough in his preparations before an expedition, he felt it necessary to double and triple check his readiness whenever possible. As usual, he had everything he needed and more. So did all of the scouts, with their bloated backpacks filled with all the fixins of a wilderness expert. Everything was going according to plan; the weather was fantastic for hiking, everyone was in good spirits, and they were all abundantly prepared. ¡°Line up, Scouts!¡± Diggory barked, his voice prideful and powerful. The young explorers zipped up their various bags and arranged a remarkably straight line in front of their wise leader. Diggory took a quick head count, always being careful to double and triple check the number of scouts. Others might say he was being obsessively careful, but being cautious was something he believed necessary. After all, scouts had gone missing before; on this particular mountain too. He swore to whatever God possible that it would never happen under his watchful eyes. The troop returned to their expedition, ascending the worn down dirt and roots of the natural path to the plateau. Their trail was blessed with the light of the sun hanging high in the sky, peaking through the green pines of the mighty trees. This day is going to be perfect, Diggory thought. And it was. The expedition proceeded without a hitch. They ascended the mountain at a reasonable pace, no one got lost or hurt, no bad weather, nothing. Diggory truly was a textbook perfect Scoutmaster and wilderness explorer.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. When they reached the mountain¡¯s plateau, the scouts all beamed with excitement. It was a sight to behold, even Diggory was taken aback by the elegance and beauty. The plateau was relatively flat and was covered in healthy grass and other bright green plants. Bushes popped out of the land in a few places, surely hiding some unseen wildlife from the prying eyes of humanity. Rocks littered the small streams that coursed through the lower parts of the relatively flat land. Mountain peaks shot up beyond the plateau, covered in wind whipped rocks, snow, and ice. The other side of the plateau led down into a massive glacial valley, carving its way through the massive rocky structures. Truly, it was one of the most alluring spectacles of Earth¡¯s beauty. By the time Diggory had taken it all in, he noticed that the scouts had gathered around something farther off into the plateau. They usually did this whenever they found some animal they had never seen before. Diggory wandered over slowly, studying the distant snowy peaks. They excitedly mumbled as they stared down at a dried up log, stuck half way into the ground. It wasn¡¯t an overly exhilarating sight, but Diggory assumed they had found some strange bug that was hidden from his view. ¡°What did you find, scouts?¡± Diggory questioned, attentively regarding the arm-sized log. None of them answered, they all just stared intensely at the lackluster object. Suddenly stumbling back, his heavy boots squelching in the moist grass. Did that just happen? The scouts giggled loudly and Diggory looked over them again. Sure enough, it happened again. The log impaled into the earthen ground jittered and spasmed, as if someone was shaking it from beneath with incredible force. Not once, not ever in his decades of exploration and wilderness adventures, had Diggory seen such a thing happen. It made no physical sense, but the scouts weren¡¯t aware of that. They found it entertaining, like a frog that expertly sings and dances. Greg, the most troublesome of all in Scout Troop Forty-Two, reached out his spindly fingers to touch it, but Diggory exclaimed loudly before he could. ¡°Everyone back away, go set up the campsite¡± he commanded, pulling some of the scouts in front of him away from the obscenity. They wandered off, mumbling their displeasure to one another. Diggory watched until they were far enough away, then he knelt down close to the log. It violently jittered again as he regarded it, surely breaking the boundaries of known physics. He studied the ground surrounding the log, closely examining the grass and dirt. There were no signs of anything fishy going on; in fact, the ground didn¡¯t even appear to have an imprint of the log within it. It was as if the Earth wasn¡¯t aware that the log existed in that very spot. Diggory stepped back and sat on a dark grey boulder just a bit away, but close enough that the log was still within sight. It would occasionally jitter and jerk as Diggory pulled out his Master Scout Handbook from the small pocket on his massive bag. Despite having read it many times front to back, he wondered if he had missed something important. He flipped to the index and scanned over each section and page number within the book. Trees and Plants? No. Wildlife Safety? No. Emergencies and First Aid? Nah. Protocols and Procedures? Maybe¡­ Diggory aggressively flipped through until he reached the Protocols and Procedures section of his handy guidebook. Each page held detailed information with guidelines for handling specific situations regarding unexpected weather, misbehaviour, dangerous individuals, and many more risks of the Scoutmaster job. Yet, not one page had any details referencing the lawbreaking log sticking out of the green plateau before him. As an explorer of the wilds, Diggory considered himself well suited to improvise for unexpected situations, but even he wasn¡¯t sure how to handle such an obscure anomaly. Having assessed the situation as best as he could, Diggory decided to investigate the log directly. It was just a log after all, what harm could it possibly cause? He could handle it. He walked over and knelt beside the log again, watching it intently. The scouts whispered to one another and pointed at Diggory, whose hand was slowly reaching out to the log. He waited for it to jitter aggressively once more and then he grabbed it, feeling the rough dried bark against his equally rough hands. Nothing happened. Diggory pulled the log out of the ground, revealing the other half of the tree limb from within. Strangely, when he had fully removed the log, there wasn¡¯t a hole where it was impaled. Just as he had originally observed, it was as if the log had never been stuck in the soggy soil in the first place. The ground where the hole should have been was untouched moist grass. Diggory patted around the area with his calloused hands, feeling for any signs of breach. Nothing. No hole or crevice at all, but something wasn¡¯t normal. It didn¡¯t feel hollow or empty, it felt like something was missing. Without a moment''s notice, Diggory¡¯s body fell through the ground. He didn¡¯t sink in, he didn¡¯t get sucked in, he just fell straight through as if the land didn¡¯t exist. One moment he was kneeling in an illustrious mountain plateau and the next¡­ An office¡­? Chapter 1: The Office The air is damp and musty, unpleasant to the nose. Scoutmaster Diggory stands to his feet, brushing himself off. No longer does he stand high in the sky upon a vast mountain plateau. Somehow, despite any kind of hole or breach in the ground, he fell right through the dirt and grass into some kind of building. It wasn¡¯t like falling into a hidden cave, it was as if he had phased through solid ground. Yet, where he now stood made no physical sense, it wasn¡¯t even possible. Diggory looks around, absorbing his surroundings. Dank, aged walls covered in cheap, oddly patterned yellow wallpaper. Brown carpet covered in stains, hardly thick enough to cushion his recent impact; it¡¯s disgustingly damp in some places too. Endless white ceiling tiles made out of cheap plaster. Insufficient fluorescent lights in plastic casings hang from above in unpatterned chaos, buzzing something furious. The sound emitting from them is worse than the bugs on a hot summer night during a camping trip. As he studies his obscure surroundings, he notices that the hallway he stands in seems strangely purposeless. It ends behind him; a dead end. Diggory doesn¡¯t consider himself an architect, but the design doesn¡¯t make much sense. Then again, none of this was adding up in his mind. Had he stumbled into a secret facility hidden in the mountain? Did he fall through some sort of portal, like the ones in the sci-fi movies he watched as a kid? Snatching the foldable walking stick from the side of his bag, he prods at the ceiling directly above him, knocking plaster dust onto his face. No hole, no sign of entry, nothing. The ceiling tile is in ¡°perfect¡± shape and above it is just wires and pipes, hidden from the supposed workers of the office space. Above the ceiling space appears to be thick concrete, producing a dense thud with each tap of his walking stick. His walking stick doesn¡¯t phase through anything either, so how did he? The more Diggory tries to reason with himself, the more confused he gets. Who would hide a secret facility like this inside a mountain plateau? Why would they waste supposed secret technology on rundown office space? Where is everyone? He realizes no one is around and no one has come to see what all the racket was. Returning his walking stick, Diggory breathes in some of the unsavory air to yell out, but he stops himself. He considers pulling out his Walkie-Talkie, but that would be just as loud. The words his first Scoutmaster told him on his first expedition ring out through his head. ¡°If you are in an unfamiliar location or you are lost, always assess your surroundings before making your location known. You never know who or what is out there,¡± his gruff voice blares within, almost as if he was right in front of Diggory. He holds that advice true, especially in situations like this; though, he hasn¡¯t ever been in a secret mountain facility or whatever this is. Ahead of Diggory, the wide hallway he stands in takes a sharp left turn. Whatever is on the other side is completely obscured from his vision. He walks close to the left hand wall of his current hallway, unintentionally rubbing against the uncomfortably rough wallpaper, and peaks around the side just enough that he can get a clear view. Sure enough, the monotonous office space he currently inhabits continues on, branching off into a few different rooms and hallways. The same distasteful wallpaper and unattractive carpet continues as well. All along the ceiling, the sporadic placement of the cheap lights repeats, each screaming their droning song. Aside from the intolerable lights, nothing else makes any sound. Keys on keyboards don¡¯t clack, coworkers don¡¯t idly chat, and coffee machines don¡¯t beep. Everything is silent and lifeless. When Diggory approaches the closest opening on the right in the new hallway, he looks in to see a large open room. The design choice of this room is the same as all the other ones, clearly a pattern that will maintain throughout this new location. One thing is different, however; in the right corner of the new room, closest to Diggory, sits a rugged brown wooden desk. It looks ancient, older than his great grandmother who passed away when she was 98, ten years ago. Attached to the underside of the desk are a couple drawers, the ones for pens and paper clips and all the office supplies one could ever need. Maybe there is information in them that could tell me where I am. Quickly walking over to the desk, leaving behind nearly imperceptible dirt footprints upon the moldy carpet, Diggory stands before the fossil. The two brown drawers have cheap wooden knobs, clearly products of their age. He pulls open the flimsy top drawer, revealing nothing but paintless cheap wood and a little bit of ceiling plaster dust. At a first glance it doesn¡¯t seem like much to Diggory, but he realizes the dust had to get there somehow. Someone had opened the drawer at some point. But who? And when? Tearing open the lower drawer reveals mostly the same information, just a bit of ceiling powder. Nothing to tell him where he is, unfortunately. He closes the drawer and ponders for a moment, unsure of how to handle this situation. Anxiety creeps up his back like an unwelcome spider in his sleeping bag; a feeling he hasn¡¯t felt since his first camping trip with the scouts. As he stands with the uncomfortable feeling spreading through his body, he decides to settle down for a moment. Wherever he is, the exit is unclear and so are the potential dangers. Preparedness is going to be a necessity. Diggory takes off his pack and starts pulling everything out and arranging it neatly on the desk. He organizes everything categorically and evenly spaced out, as if it were an intricate puzzle. Then he grabs the small notepad from his cargo shorts pocket, along with the waterproof pen, and writes down everything he has and the amount of it: First Aid Kid: 2 x Bandages, 100ML x Antibacterial Spray, 20 x Medium Bandaids, 1 x Tweezers, 1 x Medical Scissors, 10 x Painkillers, 2 x Nausea Pills, 1 x Tourniquet Food: 1KG Trail Mix (Four Separate Bags), 5 x Granola Bars, 500G Dried Fruits, 4 x Bread Slices Drink: 4L Water (Hydration Pack), 1L Electrolyte Drink (Bottle) Emergency Supplies: 1 x Flare Gun, 2 x Flare Gun Rounds, 1 x Air Horn, 1 x Bear Spray, 1 x Walkie-Talkie, 1 x High-Powered Flashlight, 6 x Extra Batteries (For both the Walkie-Talkie and Flashlight), 1 x Water Tester, 2 x Purification Tablets Other Supplies: 1 x Foldable Walking Stick, 1 x Light Sleeping Bag, 1 x Foldable Tent, 1 x Hiking Bag, 1 x Duct Tape Roll, 1 x Small Hatchet, 1 x Scout Handbook Everything he has is in front of him on the desk, aside from the clothes on his back and his watch. He looks down at the fancy watch, it was a gift from his father for becoming a Scoutmaster. Something isn¡¯t quite right, however. The thin silver second hand on the watch is moving inconsistently. Each tick is longer or shorter than the last. Sometimes it would move in line with time, sometimes it would lag behind, and sometimes it wouldn¡¯t even wait a full second. He realizes the minute hand is jumping around too; in fact, each hand of his watch seems to have forgotten how time works. It isn¡¯t a cheap watch and it certainly wouldn¡¯t have been damaged when he phased into the strange building, nor when he slammed into the thin carpet. What could possibly be messing with it? He isn¡¯t sure, but he isn¡¯t too certain about anything anymore. For the next few minutes, if it was just a few minutes, Diggory packs up his stuff neatly into his large hiking pack; again, like a puzzle. He follows the golden rule of silence his Scoutmaster had originally taught him, carefully lifting and fitting everything into his bag as quietly as he can. By the time everything was back where it belonged, his watch had recorded that an entire hour had passed. But a second later, it jumps back ten minutes. Though he can¡¯t put it into tangible terms, Diggory knows that something is wrong. Based on the size of the room he stands in, it isn¡¯t physically possible for it to exist underneath the mountain¡¯s plateau. There isn¡¯t enough room, especially since there wasn¡¯t a change in elevation moving from one room to the next. Repositioning his fully packed pack onto his back, Diggory realizes there is something he lacks. He has little to no awareness of his surroundings. It isn¡¯t like he can get a high vantage point to see everything, but an idea pops into his mind. Like he had done where he first landed, he pushed the ceiling tiles up to reveal a small space filled with pipes and wires. If he can get his head up into that space, maybe he can see how large the building is or if the pipes all converge in a specific location. Lucky for him, there is a desk in front of him that will give him just enough extra height to get his head up to the ceiling. Diggory climbs onto the ancient desk. It shudders against his weight, wobbling and creaking. He freezes for a short moment, half expecting the desk to collapse under his extra weight, but it holds up. The ceiling panel pushes up easily as he presses his left hand up into it, shifting it to the side. Within the small dark space, various poorly managed black cables ¨C likely for the buzzing lights ¨C and long white pipes covered in a heavy layer of dust run parallel to one another. He sticks his head up into the cramped ceiling space and peers around, the thick dust invades his wide nostrils. Though it is too dark for him to see much, he can tell that the pipes and wires continue on way further than he can see. Diggory fishes out his heavy duty flashlight and flicks it on, illuminating the musty ceiling space in white light. He was right. Though he can only see a few meters out, the pipes and wires seem to continue endlessly, never converging. As he shuts off his flashlight and returns it to his bag, Diggory¡¯s ears prick up at the quietest of ringing sounds. He lifts his head back into the ceiling space to see what it was and he notices that the white pipe right beside his head has vibrated slightly, knocking some of the dust off into the air. It was as if someone had struck the pipe from a distance or something was causing it to shake. He isn¡¯t sure what it could be, but he knows something else is there amongst the drab walls of the office space. Though uncertainty is majorly present, his discomfort is slightly alleviated with the new goal: finding the source of the sound. The desk shudders again as he steps down from it, back onto the unpleasantly hard carpet. While the situation was unfamiliar and absurd, Diggory couldn¡¯t help feeling a tad bit excited. Exploration is something he dearly loves. Finding new things and places, taking in the sights, feeling the adrenaline of the unknown; it is meant for him. Maybe the office space isn¡¯t very exciting to look at nor to smell, but it is new and that is enough to flick a switch in Diggory¡¯s mind. He continues on through the spacious room to the other side where the hallway immediately splits off into two directions. He takes the left path, continuing across the brown carpet surrounded by disgusting wallpaper. His nose never seems to adjust to the smell of mold and dust, and his ears can¡¯t tune out the buzzing lights either. Usually his body would adjust to the sounds and smells, but he can¡¯t seem to ignore them. He feels the buzzing continually intrude upon his mind, disrupting his inner monologue. Following the twists and turns of the hallways, Diggory makes sure to mark down the direction he travels on his notepad. The structure of the office interior doesn¡¯t make any sense, the hallways he travels through are sporadic and unnecessary, often converging with other hallways that have no purpose. Some lead to dead ends while others lead to strangely shaped rooms. Some are circular, some are triangular, some are too thin to fit into, some have smaller rooms within them. The only things that don¡¯t change are the elevation, the construction materials, the buzzing, and the smell. While excitement still bounces around Diggory¡¯s mind, the buzzing becomes increasingly annoying. More so by the minute. After wandering for what he perceived to be half an hour, though his watch was of no help in determining the time, Diggory came upon a long hallway. It¡¯s approximately two meters wide, without a single turn or opening all the way down. Only the stale yellow of the distasteful pattern of the wallpaper could be seen from where he stood. He looks down at his notepad, studying the scattered lines scrawled across the hand-sized sheet of paper. It hardly could be called a map of any kind, but at least he could find his way back; whatever help that would be. The long hallway didn¡¯t appear to lead anywhere; and therefore, didn¡¯t seem necessary to trek through. Diggory turns around in a huff, backtracking according to his scribbles. His feet carry him through the various hallways, following the guiding lines of his map. However, as he progresses, the lines of his map no longer match with the hallway¡¯s directions. Odd, he thinks. He had been careful to match the directions of the turns and he roughly estimated the length of each hallway and room fairly well. Yet, as he backtracks, the map loses more and more of its accuracy. Soon enough, his scribbled lines are contradicting the direction he is travelling. Some lefts only go right, some rights only go left, and some hallways no longer exist. He traces back over his previous map with the new directions, finding that nothing is anywhere close to the same as it was earlier. Anxiety slithers up his back again, just like before. How long have I been in here? What is going on? How did the rooms change? The hallways? His mind spirals, swimming with anxiety and confusion. The excitement of exploration was fading away, leaving behind worry and dread. Losing his cool, Diggory sifts through his backpack and pulls out the Walkie-Talkie. He twists the small black dial on top, emitting a click and then low static. It was pleasant to hear something other than the droning buzz of the insufficient lights, though it was barely noticeable due to how loud it had become. Diggory twists the tuning dial until it matches with the wavelength of the scout communication line. ¡°Hello, can anybody read me?¡± he says into the device, squeezing down the black trigger on the side. The lights above him flicker ever so slightly.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. No response. He squeezes the trigger down again, ¡°Hello, this is Scoutmaster Diggory Hervich. I was leading an expedition for the Jasper Youth Scouts up Mount Edith Cavell, but I seem to have fallen into a facility of some kind under the southern plateau. My troops have been left alone up there, can anyone read me?¡± Nothing but static. The lights flicker again, uncharacteristic of the past behaviour of the buzzing bulbs. Diggory turns the tuning knob to the emergency wavelength and repeats the same message, but only the crackle of the Walkie-Talkie greets him. He has no contact with the outside world. He is on his own. Aggressively turning off the device and stuffing it back into his pack, Diggory backtracks his backtracking. He follows the new path he sketched on his notepad, but again, the hallways don¡¯t match up with his map. The droning buzz seems to taunt him as he walks, wracking his mind with even more anxiety. He pauses for a moment. A feeling boils deep down in Diggory¡¯s gut, something visceral and wretched. Frustration, fear, hopelessness, they start to come to the surface. Keeping his emotions under wraps is becoming difficult. Nevertheless he continues on his path, trying to find something that he might consider familiar or, at the very least, different. It didn¡¯t take long for him to return to the long hallway, despite his path changing significantly. Something was different this time, however; far at the other end, past all of the crooked angrily buzzing lights and dark stains on the thin brown carpet, is another room. There is no way that was there before. The carpet barely masks the thumps of his boots as Diggory jogs towards the room, at least a quarter of a kilometer away. Anticipation floods his mind, hope finds footing within his grey matter again. Could this be a way out? he asks himself. Strangely, each light that he passes seems to flicker more than the last. He pays no mind to it though. As Diggory gets closer to the hallway¡¯s threshold, he notices that the room is quite similar to the one the desk was in, but a dull red glow comes from the left side. The room itself is darker as well, the lights appear to be fading. He quickly reaches the opening and peers into the room. Just as it appeared from a distance, it is almost the exact same as the desk room. Dingy brown carpet, grotesque yellow walls, and white plaster ceiling tiles. The only difference is the lack of a desk in the corner and the large glowing red symbols, bright and vibrant like a neon sign in Las Vegas. Though, the light they give off is dull in comparison. Diggory studies them for a brief moment and then jots them down in his notepad. He feels like an archaeologist who discovered an ancient tomb of an old civilization, writing down unfamiliar symbols. The symbols were foreign; unrecognizable, yet tangible: ??? Without any additional context he can¡¯t distinguish them, but they seem important. Diggory approaches the large symbols on the wall and places his hand on the large downward triangle. It has no distinct feeling, his hand only rubs against the uncomfortably rough wallpaper behind it. Yet, the spot seems ever so slightly cooler than the rest of the wall, like a draft is flowing from within the symbols¡¯ structure. He steps back, dissatisfied with his lacklustre observations, when a strange sound emanates from beneath him. A sound similar to the scrunching of paper when he would crumple up his homework and toss it in the garbage. Diggory searches the ground underneath him for a short moment, revealing a small piece of paper similar to the kind in his notepad. It¡¯s covered in messy writing scrawled across the page, barely staying within the printed blue parallel lines. He quickly snatches it up to read the childlike words written all over the small piece of paper: I am lost. My name is Chardy. I am a scout. I am part of troop 35. I do not know where I am. I cannot find the exit. There is something here. If you find this please tell scoutmaster Vern. Tell him where I am. Beneath the imperfect writing, a few symbols are drawn, almost exactly the same as the symbols on the wall next to Diggory: ??? Though the symbols bear some similarity to symbols often used in the modern world, Diggory feels that it would be dangerous to assume their meanings. With no guarantee of what they signify, caution is still a necessity. He mentally notes that the middle symbol is different, however. After a moment of consideration, Diggory¡¯s mind catches on what Chardy wrote in his short message. There is something here. What could he have meant by that? Diggory questions. Perhaps Chardy had located something within the office interior, but the phrasing he chose was rather sinister. Whether that is a consequence of being young or not is unknown. He stuffs the piece of paper into his pocket and moves on, walking towards the threshold on the other side of the room. Yet, as he is about to cross through, the lights behind him flicker more noticeably. He turns and looks down the hallway beyond the room. It¡¯s shorter now, only spanning approximately one hundred meters, based on his rough estimate. The opening on the other side is gone too, or so he thinks. Right in the middle of the ¡°dead end¡± is a 6 centimeter gap between the walls, hardly distinguishable from the distance he stands at. Diggory squints his eyes, focusing on the far end of the hallway. The lights continue to flicker, becoming progressively more violent; the buzzing grows worse too. Is that¡­ The wall splinters and shatters. Drywall and wallpaper flies off in a million pieces. In the dust: a creature. It¡¯s big, spindly, ungodly; as if someone had turned a human into a grotesque slinky. Humanoid in form, yet physically impossible in construction. There is no way something could be like that. To make matters worse, it is strong. And fast. Not waiting to find out if it¡¯s friendly, Diggory bolts out of the room and through the left hallway into a massive room vastly different from the previous areas he had been in. No longer are there twisting, nonsensical hallways and strangely shaped rooms. They had been replaced by numerous L-shaped pillars, all covered in the same yellow wallpaper as the previous areas. To make matters worse, the pillars were in such an oddly spaced pattern that seeing deep into the room was nearly impossible. There is no exit in sight either. Regardless of his confusion, Diggory continues running; the pillars blurring past him. Whatever it is that is chasing him is not waiting around. The wall dividing the symbol room and the pillar room bursts into shards, as the creature bulldozes right through. It is gaining on him. Diggory scans the room as he runs, looking for a place to hide. Nothing, just endless amounts of pillars and carpet. No elevation change, no doorways, nothing to hide behind. The flickering lights don¡¯t help, inhibiting his visibility. Fear creeps through his body, fatiguing his muscles, yet powering them at the same time. A bear would be one thing, he would use his bear spray. But this creature behind him, would it even be affected? He peaks behind him very briefly, studying the massive creature quickly approaching. It doesn¡¯t have any distinguishable features beyond its legs and arms. Its head is a large black blob, lacking perceptible eyes. However, Diggory is aware that bear spray is not the only thing he has in his arsenal. Activating evasive maneuvers, Diggory begins swerving between the pillars. If he can shake off the line of sight, surely the creature won¡¯t be able to keep up, he thinks. The creature begins smashing through each pillar in front of it, unphased by the force required to destroy them. If anything, it¡¯s getting faster. He continues swerving through the pillars anyway, hoping that he can spot an exit or passage of some kind. Anything to get him away from it. As if some god is answering his prayers, Diggory spots a crawlspace on the far wall. It¡¯s about a half a meter tall; tall enough to slide into, but short enough that the creature wouldn¡¯t fit. He shifts his trajectory, aiming right for the crawl space. It¡¯s fifty meters away; not far, but maybe not close enough. The creature bashes through each pillar with ease, its thunderous louder footfalls shaking the ground Diggory treads upon. Alarm bells screech throughout his mind. He swings the pack off his back and runs with it infront of him, ready to toss it near the crawlspace. The movement slows him down ever so slightly, and the creature is right on his heels. He can feel it. It looms over him; he knows it¡¯s coming, but he isn¡¯t ready. He shoves the bag out of his arms like a shot put ball, landing a couple feet from the crawl space. Then he jumps. Like an elegant bird, he flies through the air and like a crashing plane, he slams into the cheap carpet and slides. The sandpaper-like floor burns his skin as he slides, but he makes it. His body slips through the gap into the crawlspace. BAM! Behind him, the creature slams the ground with all of its might, narrowly missing his gliding body. The thin carpet splits from the impact, revealing thick grey concrete with a huge crack through it. Diggory shudders at the thought of what would¡¯ve happened to him if he had been hit. The creature stands outside, reaching its tendril-like arms as deep as it can into the crawlspace. Fortunately, Diggory is just out of reach, backing a little bit further in. It flails its ¡°arms¡± around for a few moments, trying to find its victim, before it gives up and wanders off. Phew! Diggory¡¯s mind is racing a mile a minute from the adrenaline, everything around him seems slow. He reaches out of the crawlspace to grab his bag, shooting a quick glance at the monster as it saunters off. It doesn¡¯t glance back, it just follows the wall off to the right, unaware of the exposed man. Having retrieved his bag, Diggory digs within it to find his weapon of choice. The flare gun; a handle, trigger, and hammer attached to an orange cylinder. He slides one of the cartridges into the barrel, preparing to use the weapon against the creature if need be. Though a flare gun is nothing close to a conventional weapon, nor is it intended to be, if he can get the angle and distance right, he could ignite the beast in a hellish blaze. Assuming the worst, Diggory slides his only other flare into his pocket for a quick reload. Not wanting to return to the same room as the creature, he shimmies his way through the crawlspace to the other side that opens up into a long hallway. As usual: white ceiling tiles, buzzing lights, yellow wallpaper, and brown carpet. Surely he had covered numerous kilometers of distance, why would this much of such a horrible wallpaper design be made? The thought came and went, more pressing matters needed attention. Diggory speeds off down the hallway, backpack returned to its home, pressed against his back. This hallway isn¡¯t nearly as long as the previous one and he nears the end in mere moments. As he rounds the right corner, Diggory is met with another long hallway. Except this one is different. Far at the other end, the creature stands menacingly, as if it knew he was coming. The moment it lays its ¡°eyes¡± on him, it begins charging. Faster and faster. Diggory contemplates running for a mere moment, but the thought flees from his synapses as he raises the flare gun perpendicular to his body, pulling the hammer back. His hand shakes, as he stares down the gun¡¯s barrel at the charging monster. Just wait. Almost. Breathe in. Breathe out. His hand steadies. His finger squeezes the trigger and¡­ Pop! The flare shoots off, flying directly at the ever approaching creature. Yet as the flare nears and ignites in a brilliant red flash, it curves slightly, narrowly skirting past the creature. It crashes into the carpet by the left wall. Diggory isn¡¯t a vulgar man, but at that moment, he couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°Shit!¡± he exclaims, stumbling back around the corner. His legs carry his heavy body and bag far into the hallway before he realizes the crawlspace is gone. It disappeared into thin air, as if it was never there; a dead end. Diggory stops at the far wall and turns around, quickly assessing his options. Only one option out of many stupid ones seems optimal. He grabs the last flare from his pocket and loads it into the orange cylinder. Like before, he holds his arm perpendicular to his body, aiming the flare gun down the hallway with the hammer pulled down. It only takes a brief moment for the creature to slam through the corner, bursting into the much shorter hallway. Anger exerts from every part of it, as it shatters the drywall and wood. Performing the same ritual as before, Diggory breathes in and out, and he squeezes the trigger. Pop! Once again, the flare flies through the air. It ignites and the trajectory shifts, but the creature is already in the flight path. The flare collides with its right ¡°leg,¡± knocking it off balance. It slams into the ground, landing on top of the bright red flare. The fire plumes, engulfing the monster in a hellish blaze. It thrashes against the heat, trying to escape. It screams. Not like a human or animal, but something far worse. Diggory clamps his ears in pain, collapsing to his knees. The sound is horrendous, ripping at his very soul. Even the lights in the hallway shatter. After at least a full minute, the creature finally succumbs to the blaze. It stops thrashing, but the fire doesn¡¯t cease. The orange tendrils spread to the walls and slowly begin engulfing the hallway in flames. It wouldn¡¯t be an issue if the crawlspace still existed, but it doesn¡¯t. Diggory is trapped in a dead end, fire slowly encroaching upon him. Realizing there is only one way out, he bolts towards the blazing corpse of the creature. The heat quickly increases as he nears the fire, becoming unbearable, but he pushes through. He keeps running through the tunnel of fire until he reaches the corner and turns it to reveal the next trial before him. When he had first fired a flare at the creature, it had missed and landed on the ground while still ignited. It seems to have been busy at work, igniting the hallway in a hot blaze of molten wallpaper and ceiling tiles. Not waiting for it to get worse, Diggory begins running through the tunnel of fire. The blaze has spread a lot more than the other one and the tiles start to fall from the ceiling, covered in orange tendrils of heat. They rain down around Diggory as he makes his quick escape, but one catches him on the back of his left calf. He winces and stumbles, but he doesn¡¯t stop. He¡¯ll burn if he does. Diggory pushes through the flames, escaping the worst of it, but another problem faces him. The end of the hallway he is approaching has no corners or openings. Only a cheap wooden door. On the door, a large glowing red symbol like before: ? Without hesitating, he stumbles towards the door and grasps the golden metal knob. It rattles weakly as he twists it. The door opens away from him, revealing darkness darker than he had ever seen. He hesitates for a moment, but the heat from the encroaching flames scrapes at his back. What other choice do I have? Diggory briefly looks back at the ever-growing blaze. The fire has engulfed a lot of the hallway, destroying all of the lights and most of the tasteless wallpaper. Though the fire crackles loudly, the office seems far quieter. No more buzzing. Holding his breath, Diggory submerges into the void within the door, leaving behind the monotonous endless office to the blaze. Chapter 1.1: The Interstice I It¡¯s strange. As soon as I stepped through that door, it felt like everything stopped. All the sounds, smells, sights, feelings, tastes¡­ they all stopped. It only lasted for a moment, but that moment felt like forever. I felt dead, like I no longer had a body. Yet, I could hear something in my mind. A voice. It called out to me¡­ angrily. A warning and then a threat. I¡¯m a trespasser, it said. An interloper. And then? A memory. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. The rumble of a train against metal tracks. The echo of the rushing wind in the massive underground tunnels, like an artificial cavern. It was the first time I rode on a subway. I was scared. There were dozens of strangers, all packed into this large metal tube deep underground. We were all trying to go somewhere, but where? The massive tunnels twisted and turned, a network beneath the outside world. I ¡°followed¡± them blindly. Why that memory? Chapter 2: The Maintenance Halls It¡¯s warm. Too warm. The air is thick with the mechanical smell of metal and rust; a different sensation compared to the dank stench of moldy carpets. Diggory opens his eyes, his sweaty face pressed against the smooth grey concrete floor. His hands press against the hard ground, pushing him up into a sitting position against the wall of the strange new location. Wherever he is now is different than where he was before. No more mind-wrenching buzzing lights or grotesque yellow wallpaper. He now sits in a tight hallway formed entirely from dark grey concrete all the way around; floor, walls, and ceiling. Various pipes of different sizes run along the corners of the ceiling, all painted a bland white colour and covered profusely in dust. They extend all the way down the hall curving around the corner, near the dull white light bulb hanging lazily from the cracked ceiling. His surroundings appear similar to that of a maintenance hallway system, but appearances are deceiving. Having come from a massive maze of drab offices and rooms to a cramped concrete hallway, Diggory can tell something more is going on. Though he doesn¡¯t understand what is occurring in the slightest, he knows he no longer resides beneath the mountain¡¯s plateau. Diggory begins to stand to his feet, but his injuries scream with his movements, begging for attention. His knees and calves are covered in nasty rug burns, the skin is shredded and bloody. The back of his left calf burns from the molten ceiling tile that fell on it. Realizing he needs to tend to his wounds, Diggory takes off his bag and rests his back against the uncomfortably solid wall. He fishes within his pack, pulling out the small first aid box and ripping it open. All of the medical equipment is neatly slotted within the small metal box, patiently waiting to be utilized. As per his training, Diggory starts by spraying the antibacterial fluid across his fresh wounds. It burns something fierce, as if he were covering them in salt. His teeth clench roughly, but he continues to coat the wounds. Following a few moments of agonizing treatment, he mummifies the injuries with the only bandages he has. He¡¯s quick and efficient, covering the wounds thoroughly with the white gauze rolls. The injuries are sticky, making the application of dressings far easier. By the time he is done, the wounds are no longer visible under all the bandaging. Pleased with his work, he pops a painkiller and packs everything back into his bag. Though the pain is still significant, Diggory staggers to his feet and quickly assesses his situation. He came through a wooden door into this new location, but the door has vanished from existence. Behind him: a concrete wall, a deadend. It is a lot warmer and a lot darker in the new location compared to the office space. Given the change in scenery, extra dangers are not known as well. Having been attacked by some strange creature in the office interior, it seems likely something exists within the cramped hallways he now stands in. He raps his knuckles on the pipes above his head, each pipe producing a hollow ring. Empty, all of them. Satisfied with his current possible observations, he makes his way forward. The hallway is tight, with barely six centimeters of extra space to walk in. Additionally, the ceiling is low and pipes line the corners, effectively decreasing the available space. This would be a nightmare for people with claustrophobia, he thinks. Even for him, it feels uncomfortably cramped. The heat doesn¡¯t help, as beads of sweat streak down his wrinkled forehead. Rounding the corner reveals another dark cramped hallway. The lights are sparse, barely illuminating the smooth walls and dusty hollow pipes. Diggory digs into his backpack, in search of the appropriate tool for his current location. His calloused hand clasps around a metallic cylinder and he pulls it into his line of sight: the flashlight. He flicks the large black switch with his thumb, creating a satisfying click. The hallway fills with white light. As nice as it is to be able to see, the increase in visibility only increases the confined sensation he feels. The motionless grey walls seem to encroach upon him with each step he takes. He ignores the sensation as best he can, convincing himself that it¡¯s all in his head. Following the hallway reveals a strange grid of various equilateral interconnected passages, each just as cramped as the last. The pipes flow through all of the thin hallways, looping and turning in nonsensical patterns. It¡¯s no wonder they are all empty. Following the pipes will prove to be ineffective ¨C just as mapping was in the office ¨C so he starts down the nearest path within the network of purposeless metal tubes and endless concrete. Every few meters, the hallway splits on both sides, connecting to the parallel hallways. Diggory keeps on, following the thin path deeper and deeper into the concrete jungle. The light of his flashlight reflects off the thick and thin pipes, illuminating the disgusting condition of everything. Within the beam of his flashlight, thousands of little particles of dust dance throughout the hall. Even strange places like this can¡¯t avoid the plague of dust build up. Ma would have a fit if she saw this place. The intertwined maze of pipes continues on for miles, never straying from its design. Beads of salty sweat cascade down Diggory¡¯s face, a constant reminder of the oven-like conditions. It¡¯s starting to get to him. He decides to stop for a moment, after walking for nearly an hour in the unending sameness of the concrete hallways. Slumping down onto the smooth hard ground with his bag beside him, he pulls out some food and tucks the hose of his hydration pack into his parched lips. The water coats his dry mouth and flows down into his body, hydrating the drought within. Once he¡¯s had his fill of aqua, Diggory tucks in to the nuts and dried fruits of his trail mix. Though he has ample amounts of the mixture, he is sparing with his intake, only consuming half of one of the bags. He returns the remaining half to the section of his bag where the other three plastic bags of trail mix reside and then he pulls out his notepad. Maintaining his readiness, Diggory makes the necessary adjustments to his equipment list: First Aid Kid: 2 x Bandages, 100ML 50ML x Antibacterial Spray, 20 x Medium Bandaids, 1 x Tweezers, 1 x Medical Scissors, 10 9 x Painkillers, 2 x Nausea Pills, 1 x Tourniquet Food: 1KG 875G Trail Mix (Four Separate Bags), 5 x Granola Bars, 500G Dried Fruits, 4 x Bread Slices Drink: 4L 3.5L Water (Hydration Pack), 1L Electrolyte Drink (Bottle) Emergency Supplies: 1 x Flare Gun, 2 x Flare Gun Rounds, 1 x Air Horn, 1 x Bear Spray, 1 x Walkie-Talkie, 1 x High-Powered Flashlight, 6 x Extra Batteries (For both the Walkie-Talkie and Flashlight), 1 x Water Tester, 2 x Purification Tablets Other Supplies: 1 x Foldable Walking Stick, 1 x Light Sleeping Bag, 1 x Foldable Tent, 1 x Hiking Bag, 1 x Duct Tape Roll, 1 x Small Hatchet, 1 x Scout Handbook Though Diggory¡¯s supplies are still plentiful, essential tools and materials are already used up. The aching wounds within his only bandages are a constant reminder of that. Fortunately, rationing is something he learned how to do through his decades of scouting experience. As long as he doesn¡¯t get beat up too badly, his supplies could support him for a long period of time. Decently nourished, Diggory staggers to his feet and continues down the cramped hallway, backpack strapped to his sweaty back. The hallways refuse to stagnate from their repetitive pattern of unnecessary intersections as he wanders deeper into the maze, no exits or new passages in sight. One thing is different, however; a sound. Not a buzzing light or an echoing pipe, but a trickle of liquid. The sound is far off in the distance, but Diggory can hear it ever so slightly. It¡¯s loud in comparison to the deafening silence of the endless concrete and darkness. Pulling the small hatchet out of his bag and returning the flashlight quietly, Diggory swerves through the connected hallways towards the trickling sound. His heart races as he approaches quiet as a mouse, wondering if he¡¯s about to run into another vile creature. Upon nearing the noise, he notices that it sounds like a continuous stream of liquid; like an unpressurized pipe that has a leak. Yet, the closer he gets, the weaker it seems to become. By the time he¡¯s just a corner away from the weak trickle, it stops. His head slowly peaks around the corner, revealing a strange sight in the middle of the passage. A person¡­? Standing between the two concrete walls and pipes of a thin hallway, a person stands directly in the middle, facing away from Diggory. Their arms shift a little bit in front of them and then they wipe their hands together. Everything suddenly clicks in Diggory¡¯s mind as he looks down to where the person stands. Beneath the individual, a lake-like puddle of liquid coats the middle of the hallway. It spreads all the way around their bare feet. An odd sight for sure, but then the person walks away stepping in the puddle carelessly. Unsure if he wants to approach the likely unstable individual, Diggory backs off from the corner, bonking his head on the low pipe. The person quickly turns around, their feet squelching in the puddle of supposed urine. ¡°Is someone there?¡± a gruff voice asks. Diggory quickly debates his next move, but his feet are already dragging him out into the hallway¡¯s intersection, right in view of the man. He hides his hatchet behind his back, unsure how it might be interpreted. ¡°Hello, are you¡­ human?¡± Diggory questions in return, watching the shrouded man carefully. He appears to be a few inches taller and more muscular than Diggory, crouching slightly to fit underneath the low-hanging pipes. The man walks into Diggory¡¯s visible area, revealing a tall, dark-skinned, middle-aged, sunken-faced, bloodshot-eyed, bald-headed man. Adorning his massive figure are grimey grey sport shorts and a Hawaiian shirt; blue with yellow umbrellas scattered across. The stench of urine and sweat from his pores assaults Diggory¡¯s nose, nearly making him gag. ¡°Oh, hey,¡± the large man responds casually, ¡°you got any food, friend?¡± A gentle, but strange smile appears across his cracked lips. His eyes saccade sporadically, barely stopping to focus on anything. Diggory regards him for a moment, bewildered by his indifference. Is he¡­ okay? Diggory swings his bag off his back, unintentionally revealing the hatchet to the man, but he doesn¡¯t seem to care or even acknowledge it. His eyes just lazily watch Diggory pull out a small, half empty bag of trail mix. ¡°Here you go,¡± Diggory says, reaching out his hand with the snack towards the man. He regards the bag for a moment before slowly grabbing it out of Diggory¡¯s hand. ¡°Thanks¡± he mumbles, shifting his wide eyes to make unnecessarily intense eye contact with Diggory. ¡°Shall we go, friend?¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°The exit,¡± he responds matter-of-factly. The large man stuffs his hand into the bag of trail mix. His hand gluttonously crams the nuts and dried fruits into his wide mouth, dropping a couple onto the concrete below him. He chews like a cow, gnashing the snacks between his surprisingly straight, white teeth. Having wandered for a while already, Diggory can¡¯t think of a better alternative than following this strange man. He seems relatively harmless, though rather strange and awkward. ¡°Alright¡± Diggory shrugs, returning the bag to his back. The man nods and turns around, walking straight through the puddle as if it wasn¡¯t there. Diggory follows a few steps behind, avoiding the grotesque pool of human waste. The pair swerves through the maze of thin hallways and low-hanging pipes, heading even deeper into the interconnected passages. Diggory follows the man exactly as he travels, but he seems to be an unreliable guide. Occasionally he¡¯ll circle back on himself or walk in a loop a couple times, before continuing on through the maze. As they progress, the large man suddenly takes a brief interest in his new companion. ¡°You never told me your name, friend¡± he chirps, drifting around another corner. ¡°Diggory.¡± ¡°I am Anwir, friend¡± he responds strangely enthusiastically, though he never turns around to look at Diggory, nor does he cease walking. Still unsure of Anwir, Diggory decides to dig into the man a little bit.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°So Anwir, how did you end up here?¡± he interrogates. Anwir doesn¡¯t respond for at least half a minute, still actively leading Diggory through twists and turns. Whether he is trying to remember or is thinking up a story to tell, Diggory does not know. Anwir clears his throat, ¡°I fell in. I think.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°An office, friend.¡± ¡°When?¡± ¡°Weeks, maybe months ago, friend.¡± Months? How is he still alive? Diggory stops asking questions for a moment and studies Anwir a little bit closer. He has no visible injuries, nor does his body appear frail. Though he seems a bit awkward and overtired, Anwir is in decent physical health. In regards to his mental health, that¡¯s another issue. Clearly he has had access to sustenance, but what? ¡°You seem in decent health, did you have supplies with you?¡± Diggory questions, getting progressively more weary of his strange guide. ¡°Look, friend¡± Anwir announces, ignoring the question. His hand is pointed directly down the left hallway of the intersection. Diggory peers around the corner to spot a row of glowing red symbols, like the ones in the office. They are plastered across the wall of the thin hallway, strangely devoid of pipes. He quickly pulls out his notebook and scribbles them down: ???? Most of the symbols are familiar from the past level and the note he found, but the circle within a circle is new. Wondering if his guide has any information, he looks at Anwir. ¡°Do you know what they mean?¡± ¡°No,¡± he replies before Diggory finishes his question, ¡°let us keep moving, friend. We are almost there.¡± Anwir stumbles past the symbols, not even offering them a second glance. Diggory, on the other hand, stops and regards them for a moment. A few symbols have repeated now, in the few instances that he has seen them. The rectangle with a downward arrow most prominently. It was on the door that led him into the maze of concrete halls and dust-caked pipes. Though he doesn¡¯t want to draw any assumptions, Diggory feels confident that the rectangle with an arrow means a doorway to a new area. Before he can finish his thoughts, Anwir calls out to him. ¡°Come, friend¡± he demands, his expression a lot less friendly than earlier. Wanting to avoid an altercation of any kind, Diggory tucks his notepad back into his pocket and retrieves his hatchet from the ground, before returning to Anwir¡¯s tail. They return to their twisting and turning path through the dimly lit bunker-like hallways, their footsteps quietly thumping against the thick slabs they walk upon. Though the lights that weakly hang off the low ceiling do not buzz like the lights of the office, the eerie silence is no better. It was discomforting to the ears of Diggory, which were used to the whistling breeze of the mountain wind and the chirps of birds atop massive trees. He feels out of his element in such a cramped environment, but clearly he is doing better than Anwir is. Whether Anwir was always dicey or the uncomfortably warm maze had made him this way, is not known to Diggory. What he does know is that Anwir¡¯s behaviour has been enough to make him cautious. His grip tightens on the rubber handle of his hatchet. Still trailing close behind Anwir, Diggory tries to squeeze more out of the enigmatic man. ¡°Have you seen anyone else?¡± he asks. ¡°Not exactly, friend,¡± Anwir replies, fishing through the left pocket of his shorts. He pulls out a small piece of paper, just like the note Chardy left in the office area, and holds it behind him. Diggory snatches it and unfolds the small sheet, revealing more poorly written words: I am Chardy. I am part of scout troop 35. I cannot get out. I went through a door with a picture on it. There are crawling people in here. Mom Dad if you are looking for me I am here. I will be home soon. Like the previous note, a few symbols are scribbled beneath: ???? Again, a symbol Diggory had not seen before. Perhaps Chardy had inscribed it wrong? The question mark stands out amongst the other symbols, he thinks. Chardy was likely a child so it wasn¡¯t entirely unreasonable to think he could have inscribed something incorrectly. Diggory¡¯s attention shifts back to the actual content of the note. There are crawling people in here? ¡°Anwir, where did you find this note?¡± Diggory asks, following him around a corner. Anwir stops at an intersection of hallways and looks down the left path. ¡°We are here, friend¡± he says, making room for Diggory to look down the path. As he steps into the intersection, no longer is he presented with a connecting hallway. Instead, the ceiling opens up into a vertical hallway about 5 meters tall, but only a meter squared wide. On the far wall, a symbol glows bright purple, though barely emits any actual light: ? About three meters up on a ledge, a wooden door sits in the wall, the same symbol emanating from it. The vertical hallway is bare of pipes, no way to climb up without extra equipment. ¡°Why is that symbol purple, what does it mean?¡± Diggory questions. It was different from the red colour he was used to. Anwir grabs him by the shoulders roughly, a wild look in his bloodshot brown eyes. ¡°Salvation!¡± Diggory can¡¯t shake the feeling rattling his core, something doesn¡¯t sit right with him. Why this symbol, why this colour? Could it be dangerous? Could it actually be salvation? Anwir seems to have made up his mind, but what led him to such a conclusion is unknown to Diggory. Getting explanations from him is difficult as well, he ignores half the questions asked of him. Anwir approaches the wall with the symbol on it and points up to the door, ¡°help me up, friend.¡± Though the discomfort within Diggory intensifies, he moves to help without hesitation. If Anwir is right, this whole ¡°adventure¡± will be over and Diggory can return to his regular life. He sets his bag and hatchet down, leaning against the wall with the symbol, ready to boost Anwir up to the ledge. Anwir freezes. He stares at Diggory, a bewildered look in his eyes as if he had seen a ghost. ¡°Anwir?¡± Diggory asks, confused. Anwir turns to his right, the same bewildered expression maintained the entire time. Diggory shifts his gaze too, realizing what is consuming Anwir¡¯s attention. A naked human, or at least something reminiscent of a human, drops down from the ceiling pipes onto the ground. Unlike a regular human, this one has four arms; two left, two right. Opposable thumbs too. Its legs are bent out of shape, clearly not meant to be walked on as a bipedal creature. Sure enough, it starts crawling towards Anwir surprisingly fast, like an angry spider. Anwir, being who he is, swings his urine-covered foot back and rockets it into the grotesque face of the creature. The force of his kick knocks the creature against the wall, but it only seems to get angrier. Anwir runs off down the hallway behind him, leaving Diggory on his own right beside the new adversary. It shifts its fierce gaze to Diggory, who sits against the wall too stunned to move. Hoping that the creature might share some behavioural similarities as a bear, Diggory slowly bends down to pick up his hatchet while looking at the creature indirectly. Having never been more wrong in his life, the creature immediately clambers over to him, exposing its rows of jagged yellow teeth. Diggory scoops up the hatchet by its handle and dodges to his right, narrowly avoiding the sporadic grasp of the beast. It climbs up the wall to hang off the pipes once again and pursues Diggory down the hallway, in the same direction as Anwir fled. The heat of the concrete-laden structure weighs heavily on Diggory¡¯s body as he flees. Though he was used to the exhaustive expeditions of mountains and the wilderness, his short hours within the pipe maze had taken a toll on his body. His feet drag, as he sprints with all his might away from the 6-appendaged creature. The creature navigates across the pipes and concrete nimbly, as if it was designed specifically for the thin maintenance hallways. It encroaches upon him with ease, nearly scraping at his heels after only seconds of running. As he had done in the office, Diggory tries to swerve through the weave of hallways. Yet his attempt at evasive maneuvers is futile, as the creature rounds the corner with more agility than him. Just as Diggory attempts to round another corner, the creature catches him on the calf. Though it doesn¡¯t get a full grasp on his bandaged leg, it does throw him off balance, knocking Diggory onto his back smack dab in the middle of an intersection. The impact into the smooth hard ground knocks the hatchet out of his left hand, down the hallway out of reach. As he is about to crawl over to retrieve his weapon, the beast bounds into the air and lands on top of him. It gets face to face with Diggory, its awful blue eyes full of misdirected rage. It¡¯s reminiscent of the average human¡¯s face, but the eyes are strangely large and its nose is a tad bit too small. The creature bares its jagged teeth, ready to go for the kill. Thunk! Something brushes past Diggory¡¯s face and liquid squirts into his eyes, obscuring his vision. The creature suddenly goes limp, dropping all of its weight onto Diggory. He struggles against the added weight, shifting the flimsy limbs off of his sweaty body. His arms finally come free to wipe his eyes clear of the liquid, revealing the corpse of the creature. The hatchet he had accidentally fumbled is lodged deep into its hairless skull, releasing a waterfall of dark red blood all over him. Anwir stands right beside him, breathing heavily. ¡°Are you okay, friend?¡± Anwir asks, looking down at Diggory. His face is still just as bewildered as before. Diggory grabs Anwir¡¯s extended hand, pulling him up to his feet. Knowing that his life had just been saved by the odd man, Diggory can¡¯t help feeling a pang of guilt in his gut. He had judged him poorly for his awkwardness, but if he really had been in this strange place for months, his oddness would be warranted. ¡°Thanks, Anwir¡± he remarks, wiping more blood from his pale face. ¡°Do not forget your tool, friend,¡± Anwir reminds, pointing at the hatchet lodged deep within the creature¡¯s pale head. Diggory grabs the black rubber handle of the hatchet and heaves it out of the flaccid corpse, releasing the clogged up blood from underneath. The metallic-smelling liquid coats most of the hallway, tarnishing his boots. Anwir¡¯s feet get submerged as well, but he doesn¡¯t seem to mind. Having defeated their foe, the pair backtracks through the thin hallways and dusty pipes until they return to the door on the ledge. The circular symbol still glows a bright purple, awakening more anxiety within Diggory¡¯s fatigued body. Regardless, he gets into position against the wall to boost Anwir up to the ledge, setting his hatchet on the ground. Anwir checks his sides for a moment, before placing his bare blood and urine covered foot into Diggory¡¯s hand. The stench of Anwir penetrates Diggory¡¯s noise, nearly forcing the partially digested trail mix out of his system. He holds strong and heaves the large man up the wall. Anwir¡¯s hand stretches out, grasping the ledge to pull himself up. He stands up on the ledge, barely enough room for anything else. Without opening the door, he bends down with his hand extended. Diggory extends his as well and prepares to jump up, but Anwir suddenly rescinds his. ¡°Bag first,¡± he demands, ¡°you are too heavy otherwise, friend.¡± Alarms blare throughout Diggory¡¯s mind, but he picks up the bag and throws it upwards anyways. Anwir saved my life, I can trust him, he mentally reassures himself. The muscular outstretched arm of Anwir catches the bag by its left strap and he rotates it onto his sweat-soaked back. Diggory bends down to pick up his hatchet, but when he stands back up to jump up, Anwir¡¯s arm isn¡¯t waiting for him. ¡°Anwir?¡± Diggory calls out, looking at the man facing away from him. Creak, thunk! Did he just¡­ Diggory stares up at the door in disbelief. Anwir and the bag were both gone. The man who had saved his moments ago had stolen all of his supplies and fled. Panic and rage spreads through his extremities, a grotesque sensation. Shame bounces in his mind too, taunting him for making such a ridiculous decision. All of the negative feelings awakening within him, kick him into gear. A new sense of purpose floods his enraged mind. I am getting my stuff back, Anwir. Knowing that he won¡¯t be able to get up to the door on his own, Diggory devises a strategy for ascending the vertical hallway. Using various pipes, he plans to make a makeshift staircase or ladder, something to give him some leverage. Hatchet in hand, he begins hammering at the pipes in the nearby hallway. The metal doesn¡¯t cut easily, but his constant barrage of swings gets through the hollow tubes soon enough. His fatigued muscles cry out for rest, but his mind pushes him even harder. Minutes pass as Diggory piles more and more hollow metal tubes by the ledge. His constant hammering rings out through the maze of cramped hallways, alerting anything or anyone nearby of his presence. He doesn¡¯t care. His mind is too focused on making it up to the door and finding his equipment. By the time he has stacked enough pipes to make some sort of climbing apparatus, his arms are throbbing. His body is dehydrated and soaked in sweat, aching from the heat. Despite his growing weakness, he arranges the pipes by size against the wall, forming an unstable staircase. He tosses his hatchet up to the ledge and looks over his work. It¡¯ll have to do. Placing his clammy hands onto some of the pipes, Diggory begins to unsteadily climb the staircase, nearly tipping over as he does. The pipes swivel and creak with each movement he makes, but somehow they support his weight. As his hand grasps the concrete ledge, he tries to pull himself up, but something is stopping him. Beneath him, latched onto his leg, is another beast; just like the one from earlier. Its big brown eyes stare into Diggory¡¯s with vulgar intensity, as it wraps more of its numerous arms around his bandaged leg. He hadn¡¯t noticed it due to his fatigue. The weight of the beast nearly sends Diggory toppling down the pipe staircase, but he manages to keep his balance, while knocking over a few of the lower pipes. He kicks his leg out as best he can, but it won¡¯t let go; it keeps climbing higher up his leg. The free hand of Diggory blindly searches for the hatchet on the ledge, but it avoids his desperate grasp. His time runs short as the beast finds stability on the lower pipes and gets its remaining arms onto his other leg. Its large jagged teeth flare out of its mouth as it goes in for a bite. Diggory¡¯s heart beats out of his chest, his hand becomes sporadic in its search. The rubber handle finally reveals itself to Diggory and he pulls it to him. Thunk! His swing connects, cleaving the hatchet directly into the head of the beast. Blood squirts from its pale head, as it tumbles to the ground, hatchet lodged within it. Some of the pipes crash down with it, but Diggory manages to pull himself up before that happens. He slumps onto the ledge, body completely drained and exhausted. The heat of the hallways terrorizes him further. A heavy breath escapes from his overworked lungs. Diggory stands to his feet, preparing to go collect his hatchet from the corpse, but what awaits him at the bottom is an unwelcoming sight. Two more of the pale four-armed creatures stare up at him, trying to scrape their way up. Luckily, enough of the pipes have toppled over that they can¡¯t ascend the vertical hallway. However, there is no way for him to safely get down to retrieve his weapon any longer. Weapon out of reach, Diggory decides to continue with his pursuit of Anwir. His body aches as he grabs the cheap doorknob of the brown wooden door and twists it. The door opens inwards, revealing the familiar darkness from last time. Breath caught in his throat, he submerges in the void; the scraping of the beasts below the last sound he hears. Chapter 2.1: The Interstice II Again, just like last time. Everything stopped as soon as I stepped into the darkness. My mind separated from my nonexistent body. The voice came again. It was angry, but in a different way? The kind of angry a parent might get when their child almost walks out into a busy street. Why did it care? Before I could make heads or tails of anything, memories came to me again. Wooden desks, a wall of windows, dozens of kids, a chalkboard, and a clock on the wall. I would glance at the clock every few minutes to see if it was different, but it would barely move. Every minute felt like an hour.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. The next memory was of the forest. Tall green and brown giants, the setting sun, me and my friends¡­ three hours running around with them felt like five minutes. It was never enough. Do these memories have anything to do with the previous one? Who¡¯s the voice?