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 – likely for the buzzing lights – 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.
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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.