Why had that last cell door been unlocked? I assumed it was just a mistake, a coincidence. After all, mine had been open, too.

Unless…

Unless it had been locked, and whatever was inside knew how to open it.

The main reason I'd been able to hide from those zombies until now was because they lacked intellect. They were animalistic, barely capable of opening doors. It also helped that I managed to obtain critical information early on. Additionally, I had a sort of "base" here in 01. A place to rest.

If any one of those factors shifted, if a single one of those cornerstones that kept me alive crumbled...

The whole balance would tilt.

It had already: 01 was not a safe zone anymore. In fact, it had never been.

Deep down, I'd always known that. It was never safe, only safer.

Those lights signaled the tipping point. I don't know what they'd done, but something fundamentally changed.

Relax. It doesn't matter; I lied to myself. This just accelerated my plans a bit. I had to move forward eventually, anyway.

A choice had to be made: stay in this cell until morning or risk going out now?

Staying, I decided. I was alive, was I not? The evidence pointed to that thing not detecting me inside this cell, and I had to consider the fact that the night was still infested by those other zombies. Better to stay low until the day comes.

Slowly, I tiptoed to a corner of the cell and sat down on the ground. I had some time to kill and some thinking to do.

*******

Sticking out my head and looking both ways, I worked up the courage to step outside the cell. Hours had passed already, and I was ready to go out.

The first thing I noticed was the ground — there was a trail of dark mold and rot going to the exit.

That explains the smell, I mused. I wasn't imagining things earlier; it really smelled worse in here. That meant that the thing had left his cage yesterday too.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

I'd gotten lucky not getting back on time then.

Well, since the last thing I wanted was to stay here in this dark, creepy hallway and become monster breakfast, I ended my inspection and quickly made my way to the entrance.

Arriving at the stairs and climbing up, I again noticed traces of mold all around. So it came up to here, and then... and then what? I glanced around the place. Took a walk?

I'd left the hidden bookshelf door open, so it didn't have to figure out how the mechanism worked. It appeared to have strolled around the house, but interestingly enough, the traces got scarce at some point. This rot would've certainly caught my attention yesterday, so it apparently hadn't left the basement until today. What about those tracks outside then?

Weird.

Not wasting any more time, I went to the kitchen, got one of the flour bags I'd already emptied, and started stuffing it with whatever food I could find: bread, chunks of cheese, fruits. Anything edible, really. The biggest problem would be water; I only had two canteens — one already in my hand.

It would have to be enough.

My knife was always with me, and the amulet stayed around my neck, so the only things left were my notes and the other canteen I’d left in the room upstairs. Moving quickly but carefully, I climbed the stairs and grabbed what I needed, picking up some bedsheets along the way — just in case I needed extra cloth or the night turned cold.

As I was leaving the room, however, I spotted the keyring lying on the ground, by the bed. Urgh, this... should I...

I looked through the small window in the room. Thankfully, I'd timed it right and got out at dawn; not an easy accomplishment when you are completely underground and severely sleep-deprived.

That girl might even be safer in that cell for all I know! The monster passed us by, didn't he? Besides, I could be completely wrong about it being intelligent — or even about it being a monster at all! I'm sure there are plenty of harmless animals that leave out that evil rot and chant evil words and...

Damn it. Turning around, I took the keyring and descended the stairs. I put everything but the knife, the keys, and the cloth in the improvised backpack. I filled both canteens up to the brim and drank a couple more gulps out of the barrel. Let's do this.

With the knife in my right hand, I went down the dungeon again. That guy is a lost cause; there's no saving that, I mentally told myself. This had to be fast and precise — no room for errors.

I got to the girl's cell and promptly went to work. First, the cloth. I threw it on her, covering her entirely, especially her face — I wasn't taking any chances with someone who could possibly be infected. Then the bindings. Taking out the keys, I started the trial and error method. If none of the keys worked, that was it; I'd be leaving alone.

On the third try, her cuffs clicked open, freeing her feet. I did the same for her wrists, catching her as she slumped forward when the handcuffs released. Her wrists were raw and chafed. I paused, listening for any sounds. Nothing. So far, so good.

She was still unconscious, and, unfortunately, carrying someone completely out of it was much harder than it seemed. Wrapping one of my arms securely under her back and the other on her knees to keep them balanced and close, I lifted her up. It looked like I was carrying a body, with her wrapped around the white cloth like that, but that was the least of my concerns.

Approaching the door, I quietly listened again. Reassured, I awkwardly opened the door and slipped outside, heading straight for the stairs. My heart pounded; adrenaline flooded my body. Only after arriving upstairs did I begin to feel like myself again.

Success. Now I had a random unconscious girl, a huge, heavy sack of supplies to carry, and a very dubious destination in mind.

I liked my chances.