Trapped inside an abandoned Cold War military asylum by my son-in-law while tens of thousands watch live
👉 Previous decision: You chose to run up the main stairwell toward the rooftop emergency escape tower.
The emergency siren clawed at Arthur’s ears. He sprinted, his worn sneakers slapping against the cold concrete of the stairwell, Julian’s camera rig thudding behind him.
Each step was an effort, his chest tightening. The decaying light fixtures cast long, dancing shadows that made the old asylum feel like it was closing in.
“This way!” Arthur called, his voice strained. He remembered the rooftop escape tower from his 1958 reconnaissance. A chance for fresh air, a way out.
They burst onto the third-floor landing. Arthur lunged for the heavy iron fire door marked “ROOFTOP ACCESS.”
His hand clamped onto the handle, twisted. It didn’t budge.
Arthur braced a shoulder against the metal, pushing with all his weight. The door remained solid, immovable.
A faint, metallic scent reached him. He scanned the doorframe, his fingers tracing the seam.
Then he saw it. A fresh line of deep blue solder flux, still clinging to the hinges, drying to a dull, chemical crust. The door wasn’t stuck; it was welded shut.
“They welded it,” Arthur stated, his voice flat. “This morning.”
Julian stepped closer, his face etched with confusion. He ran a gloved finger over the rough weld.
“That’s new,” Julian confirmed, pulling his hand back. “Someone was here recently.”
Arthur pulled his hand away, a cold certainty settling over him. Derek hadn’t just sealed them in; he had ensured there was no easy escape.
Julian gestured towards an opening high on the wall. “Sir, look. An old ventilation duct. Looks like it leads towards the center of the building.”
The shaft was barely wide enough for a man, a dark, dusty tunnel into the unknown.
➡️ Read CHAPTER 4 to continue the story
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