Her words were followed by silence.
Everyone showed exhaustion, relief, and a kind of guilt.
The captain looked at them with a tired smile.
"Down," she ordered.
The darkness didn't seem to affect the others the same way it did me.
I was pushed forward into the shadows, stumbling as our boots struck the damp concrete. Each step echoed down the stairwell.
The first thing that struck me after the dark was the smell mold and rust so strong it felt thick enough to taste.
The air was cold enough to raise goosebumps.
I couldn't help but shiver. Unlike the others, I wore only a gray T-shirt, soaked from the number of times I'd fallen to the ground.
I sighed again, half from the absurdity of it all. Everything had happened so fast I hadn't even had time to think about how senseless it was.
But there, in that cold place, with water dripping endlessly down the walls and the heavy breathing of the group around me, I started to think a little.
When we had descended far enough, the space began to brighten.
"Lights," said the captain. "We're almost there."
When my feet finally touched the last step, a faint light shimmered, barely illuminating the place.
Before I could look around, that purple screen appeared again in front of me.
SAVEPOINT
I froze, startled.
In the middle of everything that had happened, I had almost forgotten about it.
"Keep moving," said the man beside me, irritated that I had stopped. He shoved me harder.
When I looked at him and the others, they seemed completely unaware of the glowing violet square floating in front of me.
I didn't understand any of it. What was that thing?
I stared at the glowing word but couldn't form a thought.
As soon as we started walking again, the screen vanished.
I looked around, but there was nothing.
The two holding me stared with contempt, probably thinking I was trying to run.
As we advanced, the amber light outlining the tunnel grew stronger.
The ground was covered in dust, shards of glass, and debris.
For now, I forced myself to forget about the strange purple window and focus on my surroundings.
Aside from the dripping water and the squeaks of rats, everything was silent.
Every now and then, a pop echoed somewhere, but beyond that, only my own restrained breathing filled my ears.
After a few minutes, the corridor opened onto a wide platform.
The sign at the entrance was still legible:
PLATFORM B-2
Old advertisements hung from the walls, coated in soot and handprints.
Farther ahead, a makeshift barricade of metal and wood blocked access to the platform, but we passed through it without difficulty.
Once inside, the air changed.
The heat of burning barrels mixed with the smell of smoke and oil.
The space was larger than it looked from outside. It must once have been a station, now turned into a shelter.
There were improvised tents made of tarp and scrap iron.
Some slept wrapped in filthy blankets, others cleaned weapons or lit candles before symbols painted on the walls.
But whoever they were, they all had the same look tired, alert, and hollow.
When we entered, it was like kicking open a hornet's nest.
Everyone panicked, running to get out of our way.
The captain stopped in the middle of the platform, turned to look me up and down, then continued walking.
The sound of her boots on the wet concrete grew even louder, cutting through the chaos.
Then, an accident happened.
At first, it was just a small sound the clatter of something light hitting the ground then a muffled cry.
As if someone had pressed pause on the world, everyone froze and turned toward the noise.
One of the children, frightened by our approach, had tried to dart between the tents but tripped over a twisted piece of scrap and fell right in front of us.
The impact was harsh.
Her small body slid across the floor coated in soot and dust, raising a thin cloud that shimmered in the dim orange glow of the barrels.
The girl eight, maybe nine years old remained still for a moment, too stunned to move.
She wore a torn shirt, stained with oil, and her bare feet were covered in small cuts, some already darkened by grime.
Her tangled hair stuck to her face with sweat, hiding part of her eyes, but when she looked up, I saw it fear.
Her eyes were wide and glistening, reflecting the flicker of nearby flames.
The pupils trembled, and thick tears began to fall silently, one after another, spotting the dusty ground with rust-colored dots.
She didn't cry out loud, but her stare screamed panic.
No one moved.
If anything, everyone stepped farther back.
I stared, stunned. It wasn't worth such terror.
The captain stood motionless, watching.
The man beside me exhaled sharply, an impatient tsk that sliced through the silence.
The other two looked away; I couldn't read their faces.
Time itself seemed to slow.
The girl tried to stand, her thin arms trembling under her own weight, but slipped again.
She must have hurt herself in the fall.
The sound that escaped her throat was a muffled sob, and she began to shake even harder.
Something inside me cracked.
I tried to take a step toward her, but was pulled back roughly.
The captain sighed and stepped forward.
Her shoulders loosened slightly, and for a brief moment, some of her hardness melted away.
She crouched in front of the child.
The others watched, tense and silent.
I stayed frozen too, my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
The girl looked at the captain like a cornered animal, lips trembling, chest rising and falling in short gasps.
But she didn't run. She just waited.
And then I noticed it something wrong.
Beneath the torn shirt, a swelling bulged on her side, the size of an apple, pulsing unevenly, as if breathing.
The skin around it was inflamed, streaked in shades of purple and yellow.
My stomach turned. My chest ached.
When I glanced around for an explanation, I realized she wasn't the only one.
All the refugees every one of them bore something similar: lumps, wounds, living boils.
Some small, others massive and foul-smelling, pus seeping through filthy rags.
Some crouched in the shadows, barely human in shape, yet unlike the creatures I'd seen outside, they still had sanity.
At least for now… they were still human.
I looked back at the girl, feeling something tighten in my throat.
She was still human enough to inspire compassion.
Her large, tearful eyes met mine briefly before turning back to the captain.
The captain knelt there, silently observing the child.
Everyone around seemed to hold their breath.
They were waiting for something terrible to happen.
Children near the tents were being held tightly by the adults who might have been their parents.
Still crouched, the captain slowly reached out, cautious, like someone approaching a frightened animal.
The orange glow of the fires danced across her worn face.
"It's all right, little one," she said softly. "No one will hurt you."
Her voice sounded different from the one I'd heard on the surface.
There was no coldness, no command only exhaustion, an echo of humanity that didn't belong in such a rotten world.
The child trembled.
Her gaze shifted between the captain's face and the others, unsure what to do.
When the captain leaned closer to help her up, the refugees gasped audibly.
Beside me, the captain's companions tensed, and only the mocking man spoke.
"Don't touch her!"
"Are you insane?"
"You'll doom us all!"
His voice was sharp, furious, but he didn't dare come near the girl.
The child opened her mouth, glanced at the man, then looked at the captain again, hesitant.
"I… can I go?"
The captain didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes glistened, but her expression remained steady.
Finally, she nodded slowly and, as if to comfort her, rested a hand on the girl's head.
The gesture was light, almost nothing.
But it was enough.
A scream erupted from one of the tents.
Then another.
And another.
In seconds, the silence turned into a wave of panic.
Men stumbled out of their shelters, women clutched their children all with the same look of dread.
The captain sighed, unmoved by the uproar.
She stood, looked once more at the girl, and said quietly, "Go. Back to your tent."
The child, trembling, ran off, stumbling and glancing back with each step until she vanished among the tarps.
For a few heartbeats, no one moved.
The crowd still murmured, but none dared to approach.
The captain kept staring at the place where the girl had disappeared.
"It's fine," she said at last, not looking at anyone. "Keep moving."
And so we did.
But the echo of those screams followed us down the tunnel like ghosts that refused to let go.