Chapter 3
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“Ethanol!” Toby shouted urgently.
Lillian fumbled for a test tube, pulled out the rubber stopper, and splashed the clear liquid onto the linen closet’s curtain nearby. Beth reacted in an instant, grabbing a lighter and striking a flame—with a whoosh, blue fire erupted, swallowing the curtain whole. The searing heat wave forced the front row of infected back, clearing a narrow path through the crowded corridor.
“Go!” Toby gripped the fire extinguisher and led the way, slamming the metal cylinder into any infected that lunged. Lillian followed close behind, swinging a wrench with sharp precision, targeting the temples of approaching figures; Beth brought up the rear, tossing gauze pads from her first-aid kit onto the flames now and then to keep the fire strong enough to deter threats.
The system panel flickered before Toby’s eyes: [Hostile proximity: 5m. Current infected count: 12. Flame deterrent effective time: approx. 90 seconds]. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the stairwell door at the end of the corridor, its rusted “West Tower” sign flickering in the firelight—it was the only way to the cistern.
“Three infected at the stairwell!” Lillian yelled suddenly. Toby looked up; sure enough, three figures blocked the stairwell entrance. One, in a rugby jersey, was unusually bulky, slamming its shoulder against the iron door repeatedly with a loud clang-clang.
“Lillian, how much ethanol do you have left?” Toby asked.
“Three test tubes,” Lillian pulled them out, “but splashing it directly would burn us too.”
Beth suddenly pointed to a vent above the stairwell: “There! Grandfather’s manuscripts mentioned the tower vents connect to a storage room—there’s old fire axes and rope in it.”
Toby’s face lit up. He adjusted their route at once: “Beth, you and Lillian hold the stairwell. I’ll get the vent.” He handed the fire extinguisher to Lillian, climbed onto a nearby storage cabinet, and hooked his fingers into the vent grille—the rusted metal gave way easily, and faint clatters of heavy objects came from inside.
He leaned half his body in, felt around for a cold metal bar, and yanked hard—a fire axe clattered to the floor. Next, he pulled out a coil of hemp rope, still tangled with a faded safety clip.
“Got it!” Toby jumped down. He’d barely picked up the axe when Lillian screamed. The rugby-jerseyed infected had smashed through the iron door, swinging its thick arm toward Beth. Without hesitation, Toby hurled the axe—it spun through the air and struck the infected’s neck with a sickening thud. Dark red fluid gushed out, and the figure crumpled to the ground.
[System notification: Host demonstrates quick decision-making. Beth Williams’ favourability increased to 55 (Strengthened trust); Lillian Hart’s favourability increased to 35 (Recognition of capability)].
As the panel flashed, Toby was already dragging the rope toward the stairwell: “Hurry! The fire’s dying!” The three rushed up the stairs, and Lillian jammed the wrench into the door handle behind them, temporarily blocking the pursuers.
The stairwell reeked of dust and mildew, its medieval stone carvings worn smooth by time. On every floor, old photographs hung on the walls—group shots of Victorian-era students, air-raid shelter slogans from World War II. When they passed the second floor, Beth suddenly stopped at a black-and-white photo: “That’s Grandfather! He was on the 1972 tower maintenance crew…”
“This isn’t the time for photos!” Lillian pulled her along, “Third floor’s almost here!”
As soon as they stepped onto the third-floor landing, a dripping sound reached their ears. Toby followed it to an iron door, its brass lock rusted shut, sawdust packed in the keyhole. He took the wrench Lillian handed him and pried hard—with a crack, the lock broke, and the door creaked open.
The cistern stood in the centre of the room: a two-metre-tall cylindrical concrete tank, its metal lid coated in thick dust. Lillian ran over to check, then yelled in relief: “It’s intact! There’s still water inside!” She lifted the lid, and clear water glinted back at them, reflecting their exhausted faces. The long-missed smell of moisture chased away some of the rot.
Toby collapsed onto the floor, his arm wound throbbing again. He opened the system panel—Beth’s favourability at 55, Lillian’s at 35—and checked his bag: 3 bottles of water left, 2 packs of biscuits. He let out a small sigh of relief—for now, at least, they were safe.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from downstairs, followed by the sound of iron snapping. Lillian’s face paled: “They’ve broken through the stairwell!”
Toby jumped to his feet and spotted another door in the room—this one led to the tower’s top floor, marked with a yellow 1975 “Sealed” sticker. Beth walked over, brushing her fingers across the sticker: “Grandfather said the top floor has a lookout—you can see the whole college from there… and there’s a secret passage to the library.”
The system panel lit up again, with a new message: [Potential safe zone detected: Tower Lookout. Evacuation recommended immediately. Estimated time for infected to reach third floor: approx. 3 minutes].
Toby gripped the fire axe and turned to the others: “Tear off the sticker! We’re going to the top!”
Beth and Lillian set to work at once, scraping with their nails and prying with the wrench until the sticker was in tatters. When the iron door opened, a cold wind rushed in, carrying the damp tang of grey mist—the lookout’s wooden floor was rotted through, and a few rusted iron railings leaned crookedly at the edge. The college buildings loomed faintly through the mist in the distance.
“Where’s the secret passage?” Toby asked urgently.
Beth pointed to a wooden crate in the corner: “The manuscript said it’s behind that crate…” Her words were cut off by the infected’s snarls from downstairs, growing louder. Lillian hurried to help move the crate, revealing a dark hole beneath it—stone steps leading down into blackness.
“In!” Toby climbed in first, then Beth. Lillian went last, shoving the crate back into place to block the hole. In the dark, they had to feel their way along the stone walls, the mossy steps slippery underfoot. Only the faint glow of the system panel lit their way—a thin thread of hope ahead.
[System notification: Current location: Tower Secret Passage. Distance to Library Safe Zone: approx. 80m. Distance to remaining infected: 15m].
Toby took a deep breath and quickened his pace. He knew this was only the first step in surviving the apocalypse. Harder challenges lay ahead.
