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Matt checked the stuff on the shelves for anything that might be of use – food, perhaps, to at least easetheir hunger; Chris joined in soon after, but they found nothing other than strange foreign trinkets: hardbeads glazed black, cloth that fell apart in their hands, ointments or liquids thick and almost solidified.Initially they returned the things once inspected to their original positions, almost not wanting to disturbthe age-forced sanctity of the place; but then actions grew more frantic, urgent, boxes chucked to theground, things dropped, Matt silently choking back angry tears.Tommy sat on the chair and stared blankly past Perry out the doorway, down the deserted reddishstreet that seemed to go on forever. And he remembered home; squeezed his eyes shut for a moment,visualised his house, his bedroom, his belongings scattered all over the floor where he had last leftthem; remembered faces of friends and family, now so far away in some unreachable plane of realityand yet still so close in his mind... just a week ago he had been there, home and safe with everything allright with the universe...Matt swept the last few items off a shelf in frustration and dropped to sit on the floor, glaring at nothing.Didn't want to die, wanted to fight, fight anything, whatever it was that had brought them here and heldthem here, just to do something instead of waiting quietly for starvation and thirst to take him..."All this way for nothing," he said, his voice tight."We got out," Shane said, his words limp to his own ears. "We got this far. Better up here than downthere.""Jjaks got lucky," Matt continued bitterly. "Quick death."The short conversation lapsed into silence.Shane brought his legs up to the bed and lay there, trying to hide in sleep."I hate him," Chris blurted out with sudden force where he still stood before the shelves."Where is Reeves now, huh?" He turned to the others. "It's his fault we're here!"Perry stepped towards him. "It's not," he said. "He was just doing his job-""We wouldn't be here if not for him!" Chris yelled in retort.Perry grabbed him by his shoulders. "Who else do you want to blame?" he asked. "Your parents? Youwouldn't be here if not for them, either.""It's not the same," Chris said, pulling himself away. "You know it's not!"He broke free and ran out the door."Chris- CHRIS!"The teen ignored the calls, shoes pounding their way down the subterranean street, driven by blindfrustration. He didn't know where he was going; he didn't care, it would make no difference if he wasgoing to die anyway, if there was no way out-The place wasn't flat. There was a horizon in the distance, far off down along the unchanging street;and soon, when Chris stopped for breath and looked back, he could no longer make out the small housewhere the others were; and strangely they seemed now to grow faint in his memory, as though they hadnever existed and it was just him, here, always had been-It was cooler here in this part of the street, some cold draught of air blowing from somewhere...somewhere above...Chris looked up. And then he saw the far off glimmer of bluish light coming from a wide crack farabove... and moving his gaze downwards, he could make out rough steps hewn into the rock, leadingup..."Chris!"