Jerry broke the silence,"Do you think he's telling the truth? I always feel like they're hiding something."
Joe shifted uneasily in his seat, his fingers running through his messy hair."Hard to say," he muttered."The video looks real, but who knows what else they're not telling us? If the infection is really that dangerous, why do they keep recruiting volunteers?"
"Don't be too sensitive, I think they're protecting us!" Uncle Sima said after a moment of thought,"Did you notice the people in the room outside? I think they're isolating the infected."
"I don't believe a word of it!" Mo Wen interjected coldly, his voice low and filled with anger. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his eyes full of suspicion."Did you notice no one brought us any water or food today? They know we don't need it!"
Suddenly, Hai Ying shouted from the door,"Come and see, the guards have all left!"
"We're not prisoners, of course, they left!" a volunteer murmured.
"Huh? The guards leaving seems suspicious," Jerry said, his eyes filled with deep suspicion. Years of uncovering scandals online made him distrust such good fortune.
Meanwhile, Mo Wen had already started to act. He gathered a few trustworthy companions in a corner of the store and pulled away a worn leather mat on the floor, revealing a large metal plate with a big lock, its edges covered with thick dust.
"See this? It's a signal!" Joe whispered, making the sign of the cross on his chest. He thought it might be a hint that staying was the right choice.
Mo Wen had no time to deal with him. He took out a small old leather tool bag from his work pants pocket. The thick leather protected a row of shiny, delicate tools neatly arranged.
"You carry this with you?" Jerry stared at the tool bag in astonishment.
Mo Wen glanced at Jerry, not raising his head, and skillfully picked out a pen-shaped tool from the bag.
"You can pick locks?" Jerry asked curiously, leaning closer.
"No." Mo Wen replied calmly and bluntly, surprising him.
Standing at the back of the room, Sima deliberately kept his distance from these people, unwilling to get involved in their plan.
Jerry couldn't help but ask,"If you can't pick locks, then what are you planning to do—"
"Destroy it." Mo Wen interrupted, a hint of amusement in his eyes. He raised the tool in his hand, the metal button emitting a cold gleam. With a light press, a thin and intense red beam of light shot from the tool's tip.
"Laser?" Jerry's voice rose in astonishment, sounding incredulous.
Mo Wen's hands were steady and skillful. The faint hum of the laser echoed in the small space, and the acrid smell of burning metal mixed with the smoke. Sweat dripped from his forehead, whether from the heat of the room or tension, it was hard to tell.
Unable to resist his curiosity any longer, Sima stepped closer."You always carry something like this with you?"
Mo Wen couldn't help but reply,"Precision lock picking is a hobby of mine."
With a reluctant whine, the large lock broke apart. Mo Wen wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, then carefully opened the cover beneath the metal plate. The door slowly revealed a dark underground passage. Cold, damp air with the smell of earth and decay wafted in. The echo of dripping water added to the ominous atmosphere.
Jerry stared into the darkness, his voice barely a whisper,"What's down there?"
Mo Wen didn't answer immediately. He stood up, dusted off his knees, and put the laser tool back in the bag."Freedom," he finally said, his voice low and firm.
Standing next to him, Sima gazed into the deep darkness."It could also be dangerous," he said, frowning as he weighed the risks."What if the tunnel collapses?"
"We can't miss this chance!" Mo Wen poured some oil from a metal tube onto a piece of cloth and wrapped it around a stick, preparing to go down.
Seeing Jerry eager to follow, someone couldn't help but tease,"Want to smell the air of freedom?"
Jerry really leaned in to sniff, then immediately covered his mouth, gagging. Seeing his awkwardness, Mo Wen patted his shoulder and laughed,"Freedom can be overwhelming sometimes. Too much or too little, it's a burden."
"We need to hurry! Who's coming with me?"
At this moment, the volunteers in the store were caught in a whirlpool of arguments. Some insisted on escaping, believing it was the only way out; others hesitated, fearing that taking action would brand them as fugitives. Most were unwilling to take risks, firmly believing that once the truth came out, they could leave openly.
Mo Wen silently looked at Jerry, who immediately declared,"I'm coming with you!" In truth, he was more afraid Mo Wen would leave him behind.
Mo Wen turned to Joe and Hai Ying,"What do you think?"
Joe and Hai Ying hesitated,"Sorry... We have families. We want to see what happens tomorrow."
"Alright." Mo Wen glanced at Sima, not expecting much, as he had opposed sneaking out from the beginning. Sure enough, Sima handed him a pack of food, smiled, and wished him well, playing the part of the unoffending good guy.
Suddenly, someone shouted from the door,"Come here! Someone's coming!"
The sound of footsteps rustled from the street, growing clearer with each passing second. The heavy steps quickly drew everyone's attention. Then a low, beast-like growl shattered the night's silence, as if it came from another world.
Sharp claws scraped against the door, making a teeth-grinding noise. The volunteers were frozen in fear. Some grabbed backpacks, others used broken clothes racks—anything they could find to block the door.
Someone quickly turned off the room's lights. No one dared move or make a sound. The grating noise of blades against glass outside tortured everyone's ears.
"Bang!" The heavy impact shook the thick door again, making it shudder violently, as if it were echoing everyone's heartbeats. Someone held their breath, carefully peeking through the door's broken glass. In the darkness, two faint red lights glimmered, seeming to lock onto the fragile barrier. Those eyes, cold and bloodthirsty, sent shivers down their spines.
A few young girls couldn't help but sob quietly, their mouths quickly covered by others. Tears rolled down their pale cheeks. The red lights moved slowly on the glass, as if searching for prey. They were rigid with fear, their heads bowed low, not daring to breathe too heavily, afraid that those red eyes would pierce the darkness and fix on them.
Time seemed to stretch infinitely. After a few dissatisfied growls, the monster's sounds gradually faded and disappeared. The volunteers held their breath, listening intently. Only when the street was silent again did they believe the danger had passed.
The chaos forced Mo Wen to halt his plan for several hours. When everything finally calmed down, intense arguments erupted again. A few more people decided not to take the risk, believing it wouldn't be safe even if they got out of the sewer.
Mo Wen scanned the room and asked in a deep voice,"Who is willing to come with us?"
Silence filled the air.
Jerry's Adam's apple bobbed as he gripped Mo Wen's backpack strap tightly. Sweat beaded on his forehead, torn between fear and dependence—he didn't want to enter the unknown tunnel, but he was even more afraid of being left behind by Mo Wen.
"I... I'll go with you," he said, his voice trembling.
Mo Wen nodded and looked at Uncle Sima."Uncle Sima, what about you?"
Everyone thought Uncle Sima would refuse. After all, he hadn't supported the plan from the start. But this time, he didn't reject it outright. Instead, he silently stared at Mo Wen, as if weighing something.
At that moment, he was more tormented than ever.
He had been pretending to be clueless, acting like he was in the dark like everyone else. But he wasn't. He knew much more than they did.
—He knew that the core experiment of this base might not be about "finding a cure" but something far more dangerous.
—He knew that the "missing" volunteers were not just being isolated.
—He knew that these soldiers weren't there to protect them but to deceive them.
Just this afternoon, he overheard a conversation between a mercenary and a manager at the door.
"...Those guys are getting more suspicious. If we keep them here any longer, there might be trouble."
"Don't worry, we have plans to clean up."
Clean up.
Such a simple and direct term.
In an instant, cold sweat soaked Uncle Sima's back. He looked at the volunteers around him, still debating whether to stay, as if they still had a choice. But to Uncle Sima, they had no choice. They were just lambs waiting to be slaughtered, only the managers didn't want to kill them too quickly.
If he didn't leave, he would die.
If he showed too much fear, he would die.
If he showed any inappropriate expression, he would die.
He silently stared at Mo Wen, as if weighing something.
Then, he slowly took out a thick hemp rope and, without a word, tied it around his and Mo Wen's waists.
Mo Wen was stunned."You..."
Uncle Sima calmly raised his head, his voice low,"I'm going."
Jerry's mouth twitched as he looked at the rope around them and hesitantly asked,"Why tie this?"
Uncle Sima glanced at him indifferently,"So you don't run away halfway."
Jerry's face turned pale, and he didn't dare say another word.
But no one knew that Uncle Sima wasn't trying to tie up Jerry but himself—to bind his determination, so he wouldn't back down before fear consumed him.
The room fell silent. Finally, Mo Wen said in a deep voice,"See you again if we get the chance."
The volunteers didn't respond, only watching them disappear into the darkness of the sewer.