Trapped inside an abandoned Cold War military asylum by my son-in-law while tens of thousands watch live
👉 Previous decision: You chose to climb upward into the service duct toward the rooftop tower.
Arthur gritted his teeth, pulling himself forward through the cramped, dusty duct. Julian followed, his breathing ragged. The metal scraped against their clothes, echoing in the confined space.
The siren’s distant wail now seemed to recede, a dull thrumming sound swallowed by the thick concrete above.
They reached a junction near what Arthur estimated was the top floor. A thick bundle of cables, the main coaxial lines for the broadcast, ran along the ceiling of the shaft.
Arthur reached out, his fingers brushing against a raw, exposed end. A clean, sharp cut. The ends glinted under Julian’s light.
“The main broadcast cable,” Arthur stated, his voice flat. “Severed.”
Julian pushed past Arthur slightly, examining the cut. “Looks like wire cutters. Very precise.”
Arthur felt a knot tighten in his gut. “He cut our feed. Our live stream. He can’t let forty thousand people see this.”
Julian straightened, his eyes wide. “So what are they seeing?”
“He’s replaced it,” Arthur deduced, the truth hitting him with a sickening force. “A local loop. Pre-recorded ambient video from earlier. Views of empty corridors, maybe the exterior. Derek’s showing them everything but what’s really happening.”
“They think we’re still documenting,” Julian murmured, running a hand over his face. “While we’re suffocating in here.”
Arthur’s jaw muscles bunched. Derek wasn’t just trapping them; he was staging a false reality for the entire world. The air grew thinner, the dust catching in his throat.
“He’s bought himself time,” Arthur said, the bitterness heavy in his voice. “Time to finish whatever this is.”
➡️ Read CHAPTER 8 to continue the story
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