I push myself to my feet, my muscles stiff and aching. The metal floor is cold and wet under my bare feet. The single light bulb swings violently, making the whole container feel like it's rocking, though I know it's not.
I walk to the metal door at the end of the container. It's a heavy, industrial thing, with a large, wheel-shaped locking mechanism. I grab the wheel and try to turn it. It doesn't budge. It's locked from the outside.
I'm trapped.
Again.
I turn to look at Green. He's still sitting against the wall, watching me with those unnerving, glowing eyes. "Is this your idea of a joke?" I ask, my voice flat.
He shakes his head, a slow, deliberate motion. "No joke." He says. "The storm is here. We wait."
"The storm?" I echo. The rain has been constant since I arrived on this floor.
"Not the rain." He clarifies, his gaze shifting to the door. "The Storm. It comes when the rain gets heavy. It's...not good to be outside when it arrives."
So it's one of those things.
I suppose it makes sense. Though it feels a little on the nose to follow silent heat with some kind of storm being.
At least I'm not risking frostbite or something, I suppose.
Or expected to make noise.
Regardless, I cross my arms and lean on one of the walls of the container, opposite to the man.
"How do we get out? It's locked from the outside, isn't it?" I ask him, and he just...smiles. I can't read his expression at all. He seems to be happy about something, but I don't know what. Is he amused I'm trapped in here with him? It doesn't feel like that, but I can't say for certain.
"When the water recedes the door can be opened."
Water recedes....?
I glance toward the door once more.
It looks far from water tight. And I don't know of these storage containers being particularly water tight to begin with either.
"What's going to stop us from drowning when the water comes...?"
He looks at me silently for a few moments. I imagine he'd have some kind of expression if he were...anyone else.
I can't read anything from the blank look he has on his face, though.
Finally, he shakes his head. "The door is closed."
The door is...
Well, it is. But I don't see how that solves the problem.
I let out a breath and lean back against the cold metal wall. I guess I'll find out. There's no use questioning him more on it if he doesn't have more to say. I have no real reason to trust that he's telling the truth, but I don't have many options right now, either. I don't even have a way to open the door if I wanted to.
We're already locked in here, and he's got prior experience.
I don't have any choice but to trust I won't be drowned. That I'll find the stairs. That there's still some kind of chance to make it to the top.
If I stop believing in that, I might as well have given up when the greenhouse turned hostile.
I stare at the man, wondering if he's ever had thoughts like this. Maybe he did, once.
Before he gave up and became...
This.
I sigh, and sink down to the ground, sitting across from him, knees up. "How long does this storm last...?" I ask.
He shrugs. "It varies."
Of course it does.
I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, listening to the rain and the wind howling outside the metal container. It's not particularly soothing. I think the 'storm' must be about to arrive, because the sound is getting worse.
Waiting last time wasn't the answer, but it seems like I don't have any choice except to wait this time.
Maybe that's for the best.
That warden creature couldn't be defeated by my shears or the prying bar I have. If there are more creatures like that going forward, direct confrontation won't be possible until I find something more effective than garden tools. So for now, maybe I'll just have to be patient and wait for whatever nonsensical thing this place wants me to learn, muddle through, or figure out.
Or what this guy is supposed to.
I don't know.
I don't feel like I learned anything from that prisoner. I'm not sure what I learned from this floor. I guess I learned that I don't like the desert. And I don't really like the rain. I'm not sure if there's some sort of moral to that or if it's just how it is.
...I don't think there's much sense to be made of it.
I'm not even sure if there are lessons to be learned at all, or if this is just chaotic nonsense - some kind of torture people like us have to live through for the vague promise of escape at the end.
It's not as if I know anything about this...purgatory. It's unlike anything I've ever heard, so if there were some religious text in the world detailing it...
I never read about its secrets.
And even if I did, I don't remember it.
So I have to take it on blind faith that it's not just a means of tormenting people until they dissolve into...shells.
Into nothing, probably.
I sigh. It's a heavy sound.
Sitting in a quiet spot with nothing but my thoughts and no forward motion...
Is not good for me. That's what I've determined.
I turn my gaze to the man sitting across from me.
"How will we know when it's passed?"
"When the doors open." He replies.
I'm once again left to wonder how this thing is sealed from the outside, and how it's going to open after. His statement doesn't shed any light on it at all. And the thing that bothers me the most is that I don't think he's trying to be unhelpful. I think he's telling me exactly what he knows, in the only way he can.
Unfortunately, that way is infuriatingly unhelpful.