Chapter 6 - The Subterranean World

By three-thirty in the morning, a convoy of three black SUVs cut through the deserted, rain-slicked streets of the industrial district on the east side of the city.
The neighborhood was a maze of rusted corrugated iron, boarded-up storefronts, and crumbling brick tenements where the city had forgotten to fix the streetlights years ago.
Inside the lead vehicle, Robert sat next to Thomas, studying a hand-drawn map Anna had sketched with a shaky crayon before falling back into an exhausted sleep.
"Right here, sir," Thomas said, pointing to a narrow alleyway behind an abandoned textile mill. "Number 44-B basement level."
Robert didn't wait for the car to fully stop. He shoved the door open and stepped out into the lingering drizzle, his long black overcoat billowing behind him. Two private security guards in tactical gear flanked him immediately, flashlights cutting sharp beams through the dark.
They navigated down a set of crumbling concrete stairs leading into a damp, subterranean corridor reeking of mold and coal gas.
At the end of the hall hung a warped wooden door held together with duct tape and a rusted padlock.
"Step back," Robert ordered the guards.
He raised his right foot and kicked the lock with precise, brutal force. The rotten wood splintered, the deadbolt ripped out of the frame, and the door flew inward with a crash.
The room inside was no larger than a prison cell. A single bare bulb hung from a frayed cord on the ceiling. A kerosene heater sat sputtering in the corner, out of fuel.
And on a thin, threadbare mattress in the corner, shivering under a mountain of donated coats, lay an elderly woman with silver hair and a face carved deep by grief and sickness.
"Rose?" Robert gasped, rushing forward and dropping to his knees beside the mattress.
The old woman’s eyes fluttered open. She coughed weakly, a wet, rattling sound, and squinted against the flashlight beam. As her vision adjusted, her cloudy eyes landed on Robert's face.
May you like
For a long moment, silence stretched in the damp room, broken only by the drip of a leaking pipe overhead.
"Robert...?" Rose whispered, her voice like dry autumn leaves. "You... you found us."