I crumpled into a corner, t’was only a level, but I dared not rest, already I could hear voices, above, I reached out, pulled myself up and continued down and down the staircase, further and further. My feet felt a cold stone ground, my hands found a smaller door, this I opened and closed behind me, I stood in a small tunnel lit by a single red light, I did not walk, I ran. I reached another door, made of iron, this one eased open on hinges coated in thick grease. The space inside was much bigger, brighter, old green florescent bulbs hung precariously from the ceiling on short rusting chains.
I closed this door, my heart staccato, my eyes relieved at the many large bolts fitted inside the door, each one also thick with grease. Each bolt slid into its hole and folded down pinching one of my fingers with its weight.