Opening my eyes, a brief moment of confusion washed over me. Oh, right. I am inside a closet. Shouldn't have fallen asleep here.

  Focusing on my hearing to make sure no one was nearby, I, very delicately, opened a small gap in the doors. As I peeked outside, the upside-down room lay bare before my eyes: broken bed, broken door, splinters everywhere...

  So, good news: I was alive! Bad news: This wasn't a dream, and I really was stuck in the middle of nowhere, fearing for my life. Unlucky.

  Steeling my resolve, I carefully opened the doors all the way and exited the moldy wardrobe. It was morning, and a sunray shone through one of the cracks in the ceiling, bringing light to the room.

  "Man, really wish I had shoes," I muttered. Oh shit. Quickly covering my mouth, I stopped speaking. Those things had crazy good hearing; I shouldn't forget that. Walking cautiously, I left the bedroom and went out into the hallway. Actually, thinking about it, it might be for the best that I only had socks — much quieter this way. Testing the floor before each step, I cleared the entire house, corner by corner. I needed to be certain there were no threats left inside.

  **********

  After what felt like an hour, I finally confirmed the house was empty and felt safe enough to focus on other things. Like my thirst, for example. I hadn't drunk anything since... forever. My mouth was completely dry, and even my throat hurt. The rest of my body wasn't doing so well either: I had a pulsing headache, probably from dehydration and continuous stress, and my feet and thighs were killing me. I wasn't out of shape, but the exercise I had been through yesterday wasn't one my body was used to.

  Thanks to the inspection, I already had a pretty good grasp on the layout of this place. Right now, this was the living room, the same room I entered through a hole in the wall yesterday. To my right was the hallway with two simple bedrooms, both very similar. To my left was a door that connected directly to a kitchen and a smaller room, probably a storage room. There was also a dining room and a place I suspected was a bathroom. The house was large, but not as grand or luxurious as the mansion from before.

  Heading back to the kitchen, I began searching more closely for supplies, as my previous inspection was more about making sure there were no murderous cannibals inside and less about finding food.

  To my happiness, the small storage room inside the kitchen remained almost untouched. It had two barrels and a shelf full of unrecognizable spices and pots. Next to the barrels, though, was a wooden cabinet. Opening it, I suppressed a shout of joy. It had a huge wheel of cheese and six bottles of something. Taking one, I duly noticed it had a cork in it. Damn it... it's wine. Placing it back dejectedly, I turned to the cheese.

  "Urgh, why is this thing so heavy?" I muttered under my breath as I held more cheese than I ever had in my entire life.

  Lifting the entire wheel was much harder than I thought it would be, but after some effort, I managed to put it on top of the cabinet. Taking out my knife and shaving off part of the outer layer, I cut a piece and took a bite. Hm, pretty good. Hunger was the best spice after all.

  Setting the cheese aside for a moment, I knocked on the wooden barrels under the shelf. They were full of liquid. A small seed of hope bloomed inside me. Opening them, however, my expectations were swiftly crushed: the "water" reeked of wheat. Beer, I thought. Useless to me; I was not drinking alcohol in a survival situation.

  After curbing my disappointment, I went back to eating the cheese. I wasn't an expert, but after the twentieth slice or so, it started tasting a bit bland. Or maybe I was being too demanding; this was just the law of decreasing marginal utility in action after all.

  Now, for the thirst problem. If I couldn't find any water here... should I go back to the manor? Considering the clear sky, I didn't think it was going to rain soon. Maybe a river nearby? I don't know. I don't want to go back. Urgh, I should've thought about supplies.

  Done with the cheese, I opened the pots — the only thing I recognized was salt — and finished exploring the kitchen before going back to the wrecked living room. Looking around, I found that most of everything was broken. Not seeing any reason to suppress my curiosity, I went to take a look at some old pictures on the floor. All decorative artwork, unfortunately — no black-haired old man this time. Avoiding some mirror shards that littered the ground, I began searching the cabinets and drawers for anything useful. They were all basically empty, with only some trinkets here and there. This place looked like it had been ransacked, I thought.

  I went to the other bedroom of the house. The only difference between this room and the other one was a single dark desk, similar to the one on the second floor of the manor. Interestingly enough, the first drawer on this one was locked. Suspicious. After testing the keys I had brought with me — and getting disappointed that none of them worked — I stuck my knife in the gap and applied a modicum of force. A low 'click' resounded. Since I had closed the door beforehand, some degree of noise was acceptable. Curious, I glanced inside the compartment.

  The drawer was full of documents. Mostly reports, but less detailed than the ones in the manor. It seemed that whoever lived here wasn't entitled to the same level of information that Mr. M.A. was. The end of the logistics report read:

  Shipment no. 23 arrived on the specified date. The 22nd batch has been sent, no delays. 02 operating on normal capacity levels, no spikes detected since the last incident.

  The team would like to reiterate the necessity of more Trillium-based implements. Two requests (#038 and #039) have already been filed and...

  At the bottom of the pile, hidden under everything else, was a slightly different, smaller note:

  I agree, J, something is going on. Why would they have us operate under different conditions? As far as I know, only 01 has the Trillium and the inhibitors needed. Either the budget does not allow for it, or they are under a different jurisdiction than us.

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  I've already instructed the team to head for 01 in case of a code black. I suggest you do the same. All the doors there are made of Trillium, and the containment is far better than what we have here. I confirmed it myself the last time I was there.

  Sincerely,

  M.N.

  .

  .

  .

  Crap, I thought. This place was 02.

  I could be standing above a huge evil lair right now, I considered, slightly panicking. And not only that: according to this letter, 01 was safer than the other facilities — something to do with containment protocols and this... Trillium?

  Continuing my search, I found that the second and third drawers were basically empty, except for a few weird writing implements and one blank, uninteresting notebook. Boring.

  Pocketing only the report and the small note, I put everything else back in place and closed the drawers.

  Okay, time to decide, I thought to myself.

  I wasn't thrilled to return. It tasted too much like failure, like being back to square one. However, it was clear that a reevaluation of my plans was in order.

  The walk proved to be longer and much, much more dangerous than I had expected. The existence of those men (zombies?) changed everything; they were too big of a variable to be ignored. Besides, if what I had read until now was to be believed, this whole place was a big, isolated facility in the middle of nowhere; escaping might take a while. I had to prepare for a marathon, not a sprint.

  After doing a final check on everything, I moved over to the hole in the living room. I didn't want to stay here a minute more. There was, however, another reason behind my decision to go back to 01: the girl and the man down in the basement. If I was right and this place was too big to escape in a day or two, they would not survive without help. What was it that they called it? The rule of three? Three weeks without food, three days without water, three minutes without air.

  Lying on the ground right outside the hole, I surveyed the horizon for a while. There was no movement. The biggest problem would be the sun; it made me too visible. The terrain was mostly covered with medium-sized grass, not too short, but not tall enough that I could walk undetected in broad daylight. I decided I'd be crawling most of the way, going from cover to cover.

  I set my eyes on a big tree far away, more or less in the direction I was going; that would be my first stop. I really hoped I properly remembered the way back to 01, though.

  Looking at the sky, it was clearly still very early; the air was misty, and the light reflected softly on the ground. I was hoping to benefit from the first hours of the day when the sun wasn't too high up yet, so I set off.

  Today was going to be a long day.

  ***********

  "Man, this is not fun," I tiredly grumbled as I rested my back on a large rock. I was dirty, exhausted, thirsty, and utterly worn down. My arms were burning, my fingers were scratched, and my forearms and thighs were chafed.

  Looking at the sun right above my head, a sigh escaped me. At least the weather wasn't bad. The sun was shining, but the temperature wasn't unpleasant. Since where I lived was always hot, this meant one thing: I was very, very far away from home.

  What was really interesting, however, wasn't the weather. It was the peace. Not one crazy cannibal around, I thought. My biggest concern for this trip turned out to be null. Had I gotten lucky, or was there something bigger at play here?

  "Well, not lucky enough, apparently."

  Yeah, I didn't remember yesterday’s path all that well (apparently, focusing on not being eaten had taken up most of my attention). Looking around for landmarks, a large tree some kilometers away stood out in the landscape. I'd been "slithering" around for hours already and felt quite close to my limits. It was time to abandon my tactical crawling in favor of some good old, reliable walking. Visibility was good, and I couldn't see anything in the distance that could be a threat, so it was probably okay.

  After crossing three-fourths of the way, however, a foul smell hit my nostrils, taking me by surprise. Immediately my alert senses went off. I looked around and lay on the ground, searching for threats. The wind carrying the stench hit me right in the face, meaning that the smell was coming from the tree in front of me. Approaching cautiously, I took a closer look.

  There, at the foot of the tree, just by the roots, lay the carcass of a quadrupedal — or what was left of it. Walking right up to it, I tried to analyze the damage. It was completely torn open and twisted, with parts of the head and one of its legs missing. At least I know where I am now.

  Besides, this was an interesting piece of information.

  "Not all of their senses seem to be enhanced," I mused while poking the corpse with a stick. They would've been here by this carcass otherwise. This smell... no chance a dog couldn't sniff this from far away.

  That was something I'd contemplated yesterday too, before falling asleep. That time, near 02, I spotted them first, even though one man was already facing my direction. Was their vision worse than mine, perhaps?

  It was not impossible. Maybe a trade-off of some kind? Vision for hearing?

  One thing that remained a mystery was their intellect. Were they capable of thinking? They certainly behaved like animals, but there was not enough evidence to support a theory yet.

  Standing up and brushing my hands off, I turned to look at the green sea around me. Honestly, the words "green sea" described my situation pretty well. Standing alone under the clear blue sky, with nothing but a vast, unfamiliar grassland surrounding you, had a way of making you feel... stranded.

  I managed to spot the bushes I'd hidden in yesterday a few moments later. They were far off, perched atop a gentle rise in the landscape. Damn, that thing really had incredible hearing, huh? I thought, half awed and half frightened.

  After that, to my relief, the path started looking more familiar, and half an hour later I managed to catch sight of the manor in the distance. I didn't think I would be saying this so soon, but I was sincerely happy to see this place again. If you didn't mind the creepy evil dungeon underneath, this was actually a very pleasant house to live in! Very spacious, two floors...

  It was afternoon, and I still hadn't encountered any of those zombies. Do they only come out at night?

  Arriving at the door, I silently opened it, crossed the entrance, and got to the living room. Nothing in the house seemed different, but I couldn't be completely sure yet.

  Only after clearing the entire place did I feel safe enough to lower my guard and go search the kitchen for supplies.

  I really hope there's something other than beer and wine here. Glancing around, I saw three barrels next to the ancient-looking stove. Kneeling right next to the first one and taking out my knife, I started praying.

  With the blade, I began prying the thin metal hoop of the barrel off. The process was almost silent, save for the occasional soft clink and grunt of effort. Moments later, though, the lid popped open.

  "Oh, thank God," I tiredly muttered. It was beautiful. The clear water rippled, light reflecting off its surface. I drank from the barrel directly, not bothering with a cup or anything else, enjoying how blissfully cool the water felt in my mouth.

  Coughing and choking, I forced myself to pull away from the container, my chin dripping and shirt wet. I felt as if I'd been reborn.

  Panting, I leaned back and closed my eyes. The sensation lingered on my tongue, but I controlled myself. Drinking excessively would make me too heavy and could make me sick.

  Mind over matter, I reminded myself.

  I decided to rest for an hour, drinking only in small amounts during this period. After I felt ready and rested enough, I got up and went to check on the food available. The cheese was similar to the one I'd eaten earlier, so I put it aside. The curious thing, however, was the variety of fruits. There were a bunch of them that I couldn't properly recognize. I bit into one that seemed the most familiar: a slightly orangish apple. It actually tasted just like a normal apple, so no problems here.

  Moving on to the next basket, I found it full of grains and bread. Hard, I noted, tapping a loaf against the table. It could even double as a weapon.

  I took a bite anyway. It had some acidity and tasted nothing like the bread I was used to eating. If I said it was good, I'd be lying. Considering the lack of appliances and the amount of flour in this kitchen, this must've been made here, by hand.

  "Okay," I said, dusting off my hands, "I should look for a backpack and a canteen while I'm here." If I had to run or just go out again, I'd better be prepared.