Not far ahead, over twenty meters in front of us, a single hatch is visible. On its side, integrated into the corridor wall, is a rectangle with a large button, large enough to be seen from this distance.

According to Eric, that is where we will find Zane. And where we will wait for him and Bart before he leads us to the Captain.

"What should we do?" I asked my delirious companion.

"Goooo!," she yanked me with her arm around my neck, making me turn; next, she pointed with a fully extended arm. "Nowheeere we goooo!"

The corner of my lips rose slightly. Even in her drugged state, she isn't missing anything happening around her.

The left path, from where Eric arrived, is a dead end. From what he said, he had gone that way to locate Zane but got the direction wrong. Understandable. If his gift of senses works like some sort of radar for the living, then this maze-like place isn't less confusing to him than it is to us.

However, his quick reaction was excessive and unnecessary.

When I inquired as to whether that was the location of the control room, he denied it with a little too much passion. He also talked more than was needed, justifying why he was there and why we shouldn't.

If the inconsistency in Eric's plan is the first red flag, then his agitatedly justifying himself is the second.

It could be once again the paranoid voice whispering in my head, but I'm not the only one who feels something is suspicious in all of this; Bell too, feels something isn't right. Granted, taking the opinion of someone high on drugs is maybe unwise, but I feel it is more unwise not to.

As a matter of fact, with this woman's supernatural perception, it's ample enough for me to count her words as the third red flag.

Besides, it wouldn't hurt to verify that place if it's a dead end like he said. And provide it's not too long of a corridor.

"Let's go then," I said as we staggered back to the intersection.

"Goo Duum, let's gooooo!"

What are you? A cheerleader?

I shook my head inwardly.

Fortunately, I wasn't this far gone when I was high. In fact, our reactions to the drug were the complete opposite. While I did make some straining efforts to control my thoughts so my mouth wouldn't sprout what it shouldn't, I was in a calm and pensive-like state. Bell seems all cherry and festive, humming songs, swinging her body in a half-dancing manner, and shouting enthusiastically.

Adding more headaches on top of my existing ones.

When we reached the center of the intersection, we stopped. I moved my gaze to the corridor, where Eric had disappeared, then turned in the direction he had come from before eventually hobbling down.

The left corridor, after ten to fifteen meters, is split into two opposite directions: the right and left paths. Luckily, neither of the two ways is lengthy.

The right passage ends with a double door with a glass window on both of them, similar to the breakroom.

On the other hand, the left corridor ends at a hatch door with a button on the side of the wall.

I didn't give it much thought and immediately veered right. The glass window on the door gave some assurance. At least I will be able to know what is inside without having to open the doors first, something I won't be able to do with the thick mechanical door on the opposite side.

That was the plan. But before I could catch a glimpse of what was inside the room, Bell harshly swung the door fully open without a care in the world.

"Baaad Dum, womeen fiiiiiiiirst," then she started laughing as if she heard the funniest joke ever told.

I sighed. You are particularly attached to me; no one is first here.

Fortunately, there was no visible danger inside.

Staggering as we got in, I looked closely around, trying to find something. What exactly? Well, we will know when we find it.

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The phrase "conference room" would be the best way to describe the space. In the middle, a long rectangular table dominated the room, dividing it in two. There are eight seats on each side. Two white couches are set against the left and right walls. And a large projection screen was on the wall facing the doors.

"Sit here," I sat Bell on the nearest couch and put the backpack and both rifles on the table before strolling around the room. examining deeply the location and looking for whatever is out of place. I moved the desk chairs, looked under the long table, and even looked behind the couches, but all I got was nothing.

The conference room is a standard one. Nothing about it is suspicious at all.

"Perhaps there is some secret passage or something." I whispered my thoughts loudly to no one in particular. Part of me hoped that Bell would point out something I've missed, but the woman with the happy-go-lucky expression is swinging herself on the couch.

Shaking my head, I turned around to the last thing I hadn't examined yet: the screen projection. The room is painted white and plain, lacking any ornament or decoration, making the white screen projection the only thing attached to the wall.

I checked the screen itself and when I found nothing I moved to the wall behind it. I taped on it and a solid sound reached my ears. My brow furrowed slightly. It doesn't sound hollow. I tried other areas, tapping here and there, yet nothing still.

The other side perhaps.

When I noticed Eric earlier, he was already halfway through the corridor, so I can't say if he comes from this conference room or from what is beyond the hatch. And since I didn't find anything suspicious here, it only leaves us with the other path.

With the decision made, I didn't waste any more time.

"Stay here, Bell," I grabbed Svelt, Bell's sniper rifle, I would've liked to spend more time inspecting it, for professional reasons of course. But, for the time being, simply verifying the magazine will suffice. "I will check the other side and be back," I said, putting the mag back in.

Straightforward and light, I fully understand her pesky fuss when it comes to this exquisite weapon. Svelt's working system isn't different from the rifle I picked up at the hunter's body; it uses a bolt-action to load. And other than the obvious — the big scope, the material it's made of, the modern tactical design, and the barrel's length — the magazine is what influenced my choice of picking it over the alternative.

After pulling the bolt, a full cartridge was ejected. She already prepared it, I see. It doesn't hurt to make sure. I pushed the bolt, chambering another cartridge before picking up and storing the ejected one.

Now I'm ready.

"Dooon't hurt the chicken, Duum~."

"What?" I turned to Bell as I was about to exit the room. She has a grin on her face while her head sways back and forth.

"Sissy Duum, afraid of chickeeeen."

Raising an eyebrow at her foul interlacing, "I don't eat chicken, but that doesn't mean I'm scared of them, you know?"

Plus, they don't even fly. What is the point of having wings? Useless birds.

"But, buut, buuut, you smell lemoon,"

Eh?

"What's the lemon smell?"

"Lemon is lemooon."

"But I'm not a lemon."

"Dumdum is duuum; dum is a sissyy."

Oh.

So that's how it is, huh? I felt my face contort into a wide grin at the realization. No, the confirmation. But I didn't dwell much on it, and with an "I will be back," I exited the conference room, leaving Bell to her humming, and headed straight forward to the hatch.

The thick mechanical door wasn't far from the conference room; I reached it in less than half a minute.

Taking a deep breath before eventually pushing the opening button and swiftly dashing a couple of steps back, rifle in both hands pointed and ready to drill a hole in whatever dare pop in its head.

"..."

However, even after both sides of the hatch completely retracted inside the walls, nothing emerged from the other side. I didn't let my guard down, though, and I stayed unmoving with a targeted rifle for almost a minute before I decided to warily step in.

The hatch directly opens to a theater of some sort, a large, high-ceiling space with a stage semicircle at the end facing the entrance and raised seating around it.

I took a moment to digest and analyze what I was seeing. The space gives a fresh sense of freedom. Had it not been for the urgency of the situation, I would gladly spent some time just wandering around in this vast emptiness.

Shaking my head, I took the nearest stairs, rifle not yet lowered. The sound of my steps was amplified by the silence and the extensive area.

No backstage?

The half circle stage is slightly raised above the ground and mounted directly to the wall. With no curtain, no frame, or anything but stairs and a raised wooden platform with some furniture on it.

Ascending to the stage, I looked around more closely. Indeed, though there is no backstage, the stage is furnished like an office. A wooden desk in the middle faces the audience, two chairs, a small table in front of it, a couch on its left, and three single-tier lockers.

Walking to the desk, I resumed the inspection I started earlier. The desk is made of wood and is similar to the one that I still think appeared out of nowhere, with three drawers. The surface is empty, while the drawers are... empty too.

That only leaves the lockers.

Turning around, I hesitated for a moment. I didn't understand why, however. The lockers aren't big enough to accommodate a shredder unless the monstrosity appears out of nowhere, as that desk did. Or they are connected to a space node, causing a dilation of space and a magical portal to form. What does it mean exactly? Who knows? I'm just trying to get my mind off the anxiety.

But technically, it's not impossible for something like a portal to happen. Just as there is no hundred percent, there is no zero percent. I'm living proof of that.

Alright!

Shaking my head, I closed the set of lockers, then lifted the handle of the first one before slowly opening it and... empty. Partially relieved and partially disappointed, I moved on to the second locker.

You would think that no one uses this place, with all the empty rooms and maze-like corridors. But the more I explore this location, the more—

As soon as I lifted the second locker's handle, the steel door was forced open — something was pushing from the inside.