Whimpers of the Light

04 - Echoes in the Dark

The metal plate shifted heavily on concrete. The air was suffocating, heavy with the smell of decay and damp stone. His muscles burned from the mad escape, but the air was free of spores here. Relieved, he removed his mask and sank heavily to the floor, trying to control his breathing. Beneath him, past the rusty bars of the ladder, the creature's disgusting sounds had faded. But he didn't trust the silence.

The dim light from his flashlight flickered; it cast shadows against the crumbled walls. His eyes strained to pierce the gloom. He was searching for any sign of safety or an exit. But in escaping the tunnel, he had only found himself in another one. After a moment of stillness, he pushed himself up and continued through the shadows, one turn bleeding into the next. He kept his hand on the right wall, trying to map the space in his mind — focusing despite the fear that something could still be hunting him.

He wiped the sweat from his weary brow, forcing himself to assess the situation. For now, the creature was stuck in the tunnels below. His immediate concern was the light — he could not know how long he'd be trapped in these galleries, and his battery supply was limited. The weight of his isolation settled heavily in his chest, but he had faced worse odds before. At least he had a steady supply of food and water. Might hold a week. But the supplies would soon dwindle, and the tunnels seemed endless.

His grip tightened around his weapon — a sturdy curved Pulaski axe he kept sharp. Though the immediate threat had receded, he remained on edge. His instincts warned him that something else — perhaps worse — could still be lurking in the depths.

For now, though, he had to keep going. The only way out was forward.

Every breath tasted stale, thick like the air hadn't moved in years. The network of galleries was more intricate than he had anticipated; it felt like they had been made without purpose. Or maybe their purpose was to prevent anyone from uncovering the secrets they hid. If so, they were succeeding. Keeping track of his progress became harder with each new crossing; the toll of darkness and fatigue crushed him. The tight, unending spaces reminded him of the past. A memory he rarely visited. Rows of people pushing and shoving in pursuit of promised salvation — filtering lanes meant to stop some from leaving the city — a futile effort to delay the inevitable.

A sound behind him sent his mind spiralling into survival mode. Instantly, he spun around, the beam slicing through the darkness. For a moment, he was sure the creature was there, lurking just beyond light's reach. Focus. He had to find shelter or a way out before his mind unravelled completely. So he pressed on, moving faster, as if he could outrun the invisible threat. The stench of decay hung in the air. Sometimes, he thought he heard footsteps again echoing behind him, but when he turned, the darkness was always empty. Waiting.

He couldn't keep track of time, only of his growing weariness — seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours. The obscurity played tricks on him. Shadows danced along the labyrinthine halls, each sound amplified in the lingering silence. He glanced at his watch as if, by some miracle, it would tell him the time — it had been broken for a while now. When he sought a mechanical watch, he had felt clever, thinking it would last as long as he did. One lousy fall had proved him wrong. Now, he kept it as a reminder — a relic of a time long gone.

The walls weren't entirely bare. Faint streaks of paint clung to the stone like ghosts. Until now, nothing had been clear enough to understand. But as he turned a corner, the flashlight caught something — yellow paint smeared across the wall:

"PRAY FOR THE CHILDREN OF DOOM"

He shuddered.

#

Groans broke the eerie silence when he pushed the rusted gates open. After so long spent in the dark, his hope of finding a way out had never been higher. A cold draft slipped through the gap. Finding the doors had sparked a cruel flicker of possibility, but now his stomach twisted in knots — this was no exit. Instead, a giant hall welcomed him inside with its vast emptiness. A wave of despair washed over him. Yet, there was no time for pity. The only way out is forward. Scraping sounds echoed through the tunnels behind him as he shut the doors and sealed the tomb.