Sitting on the chair in front of the dark desk, I opened the last drawer. Keys. Could they be...glancing at the cuffs still on my ankles, I selected one that apparently fit the socket. Twisting it and hoping for the best, the cuffs unlocked with a satisfying 'clink'. Progress, finally.
Not even wasting energy celebrating, I started examining the keys. There were eight of them. Maybe one for each cell down there? Pocketing the keys, I started skimming through the notes from the first drawer, relying on the amulet's "mystical powers" to make sense of them (can't believe I'm saying that). They mostly had to do with supplies, logistics, and complaints about allocated funds. The accounts listed hammers, pitchforks, chains, pliers, shears, nails — at best, normal necessities; at worst, torture implements. There was also food: cheese, flour, wine, beer, grains, and some other stuff I didn't recognize. However, what caught my attention was the amount listed under "construction material and miscellaneous repairs" — the number was almost 10 times higher than the second-highest expense, even though I didn't recognize the currency indicated next to the figures.
Are they building something? More prison chambers? Or is this just a fake accounting entry?
Setting aside the supplies and materials report, my focus turned to the logistics report. Bingo. It detailed shipments to areas designated as 01, 02 and 03. Damn, there were at least two more facilities like this one out there; this was too big to be a single person's work. Could this be a government facility? An obscure association composed of rich a**holes? This might turn into a huge international incident. Pocketing this report, I turned to the last thing on the pile: a letter. It read:
To M.A,
Not enough. Increase the frequency. The deadline will be met; the longer it takes, the closer they draw. Do not ask for more, for we have given you what you are owed.
Your recent request has been denied. Completely. Show some success and we might reconsider. Do not fall under the misunderstanding that we work FOR you. You have been warned.
Keep the system running and do your part.
Ominous, I thought. It seems they had to put M.A. in his place. This confirms the existence of something bigger at play here, but not much else. Was M.A. a name or a position? The tone was firm, but not too harsh. Was he important? When was this deadline and what was it about? Who sent it? Again, too many questions, too few answers.
After pocketing the letter — it would serve as evidence later — it was finally time to go. Leaving the second floor and descending the stairs, I glanced through the glass near the front door. It was nighttime, probably around 7 p.m., and there was no moon in the starry sky. Hopefully, the lack of moonlight would work in my favor. If this was an estate in a villa — as I suspected — the darkness might help me sneak around unnoticed. Yes, my worries about being recaptured had diminished somewhat, but not nearly enough: the reports and the letter made it clear that this was an operation with heavy funding and professional backing. They had to have security or some surveillance in the area. Besides, the absence of any electronics inside pointed either towards this place being in a truly remote location or towards extreme digital OPSEC protocols — or both. Still, something had clearly gone very wrong for them here, after all, someone had managed to escape the cell and obtain evidence.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Opening the door, the fresh air of the night hit me square in the face. Deciding swiftly, I started jogging forward. The plan was to get away from this place and call the authorities to raid it later. All with no shoes, a knife, a bunch of keys, and two pieces of paper written in alien mumbo-jumbo that I could only read thanks to a MAGICAL PENDANT hanging around my neck. Yeah, I liked my chances.
The dark and chilly night engulfed me as soon as I took the first step. The smell of wilderness was intoxicating, threatening to overwhelm me with a false sensation of freedom, of mission accomplished. I was still very much a prisoner, though.
After some time walking through the grass, I saw a silhouette in the distance. Shit. Should I ask him for help? Judging by the way he was moving, he seemed like an old man. I couldn’t be certain due to the darkness, but his movements were sluggish, almost lethargic. Prone on the ground and staying still, I kept observing him. Something wasn't right.
My heart pounded in my ears, and the blood in my veins felt ice cold. He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and considering that the house I came from was still very close... He might be staff, I thought.
Suddenly, as if he heard something, his head snapped to the right. With unbelievable agility, he pounced — just like an animal. What? What the hell was that?
A moment later he stood up again, with something in his mouth. It looked like a squirrel or a small rabbit, I couldn't be sure. Taking it from his mouth, he... twisted the animal — like a wet cloth — above his head. What the hell? After the pleasant shower, the man kept walking monotonously, as if his previous burst of energy had been just an illusion.
Yeah, that's classic crazy murder-hobo psycho behavior if you ask me.
I wanted none of that heat. With double the alertness and none of the recklessness displayed earlier, I continued walking. The night sky, which had seemed welcoming just minutes before, now felt menacing. There was a raw, primal sensation creeping over me, as if something was tickling my lizard brain, making me skittish. Some sort of evolutionary survival instinct, hardwired into my mind, warning me that I could become prey at any moment.
A while later, I spotted another man, this one further away. Hiding in some bushes, I began observing him too. He was eating a large animal — a horse or an ox. The guy was moving with manic energy, as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He tore into the animal with his teeth and bare hands, ripping off a leg with unsettling ease. Too strong, I thought. What are these people?
Shifting around in the bushes to better conceal myself, I threw some annoyingly prickly sticks and twigs away. Once I had repositioned and returned my attention to the man, however...
He had stopped eating, his head twisted unnaturally in my direction, as if he were straining to hear something.
My heart raced.