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 – just as mapping was in the office – 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.
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“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.