If the rope had been dropped in while I was still awake, I’d have noticed the hatch and the marginal change in the light. The fact that I hadn’t made something else obvious: if the supplies only came in once I’d gone to sleep, I was being watched.

There had been cameras in here the whole time.

I grabbed hold of the rope.

Did I go up?

Was it a trap?

I hesitated a moment longer, looking to see if Vale might be waiting out of sight at the top – but then the overwhelming need to escape took over. I had to go up. I had to try and get out of here.

I started climbing.

As I did, I thought of the boxes I’d found at Seiger and Sten, the others who must have spent time here before me. Did they make this climb too?

The closer I got to the hatch, the more I could see of the room around me, the grey light leaking in from above to show a camera – as I’d suspected – off to my right. I only noticed it as I got to the very top, one of my hands gripping the edge of the hatch, the other clamped on the rope. There were no LEDs on the camera, no hint it was there at all, the outside cased in black. For a moment, I looked down into the room I’d been in all this time. I could see the shoes I’d kicked off because they didn’t fit and were too uncomfortable. I could see my discarded blankets. I could see a river of old water bottles flowing against one edge of the room, and then hundreds of paper plates. They were scattered everywhere, a map of my captivity.

I reached towards the hatch with my other hand – and then, finally, lifted myself all the way out.

Breathing hard, I looked around.

I was alone in another room.

It was low-lit and narrow, maybe 120 feet long. The walls were chipboard, the wood scratched and dirty, and there was one other hatch like mine between me and what looked like the exit door. The second hatch was already fully opened, had maybe been that way for some time, rope snaking out of it and clipped to an iron loop bolted to the floor.

Beyond it, the exit door was ajar.

Even in the subdued light, my eyes struggled to adjust after so long in darkness. They watered and blurred, tears breaking out across my cheeks, and as I wiped them away I got to my feet, moving around the other hatch, peering into its empty darkness.

I headed for the door.

It was ajar enough for me to see a sliver of what lay on the other side: some kind of slatted wooden veranda, with a flight of steps down to a sloped patch of grass. Ringing the grass were trees.

Forest.

Where the hell was I?