The basement is...large to say the least. We're not even far in. The walls are tall and grey, and there are numbered codes printed across the stone floor. It feels more like an underground bunker than anything.
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There's an eerie trickling from inside the walls that echos around us and ticks in time with my heartbeat. Something prickles uncomfortably inside my stomach; I have a bad feeling about this place.
Chris and I turn more corners leading into the same dreary corridors. No matter how many more we walk down, the musty damp smell that lingers here still refuses to leave.
The water splashes more prominently beneath our feet as we break into a run, desperate to find a door. Chris skids to an abrupt halt; I slap a hand onto the wet, concrete wall to stop myself from crashing into him and curse silently.
"What was that about?" I rub my hand and pout at Chris.
"Sorry, just - take a look at this," he steps aside and leans against a small metal barrier.
It's a rectangular pool of water. Not large — maybe around 2 x 1m? Must be for shipping judging by the aluminium shutter to next to it. The metal barrier must be to stop people from falling in. What's odd are the three wooden crates floating in the water and creating a pathway onto the other side. There are scuffed, bloody footprints trailing across the wood and all along the rest of the stone floor. The blood's not a good sign. Maybe the person just stepped in something dead? Yeah, that'll be it.
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"We should run for it," Chris says and pushes himself away from the metal. I nod, partly in agreement and partly to shake myself from my thoughts.
"Ladies first," I joke with a smirk.
Chris curls his lips into a sarcastic smile.
"Gee, thanks,"
I watch as he runs forward. The crates tremble dangerously below him as he makes his way across the make-shift bridge and rock the water below. Chris hops from the last crate and lands back onto the solid floor with a shaky grin.
