The Escape Code

Ch-2:A Mysterious Message

The faint sound of something scraping against metal jolted me awake.

My eyes snapped open.

For a moment, I laid still, listening. The usual hum of the city filtered through the cracks in the walls—the distant buzz of neon billboards, the rhythmic clatter of the transport rails, the muffled voices of people who never slept. But this sound was different. Closer.

I pushed myself up, moving carefully so the old cot wouldn’t creak. The room was small, barely big enough for my desk, a pile of tattered blankets, and the stacks of notes I had collected over the years. A single dim light flickered above, casting long shadows against the metal walls. Nothing looked out of place.

Then—there it was again. A soft tap against the door.

My heart pounded.

No one ever knocked.

Slowly, I reached under my pillow, fingers wrapping around the small blade I kept hidden there. My grip tightened as I swung my legs over the side of the cot, pressing my feet to the cold floor.

I moved toward the door, every step careful, silent. A quick glance at the makeshift lock told me it hadn’t been forced open. That meant whoever was out there wanted me to know they were here.

Another tap. More deliberate this time.
I exhaled slowly, then pressed my back against the wall beside the door. “Who is it?” My voice was steady, controlled, despite the sharp edge of unease creeping into my chest.

No answer.

I swallowed hard, fingers tightening around the knife. There was only one way to find out.
With a quick motion, I unlatched the lock and pulled the door open just a fraction—enough to see outside but not enough for anyone to push their way in.

No one was there.

I frowned, scanning the narrow alley outside my hideout. The usual piles of discarded tech and crumpled sheets littered the ground, but nothing seemed disturbed. No sign of movement. No retreating footsteps.

Then I noticed it.

A small, folded piece of paper, placed neatly on the floor just outside the threshold.
Paper. Not a hologram. Not a projection. A real, physical note. In a city like this, where everything was digital, that alone was enough to set my nerves on edge.

I hesitated, then crouched down, keeping an eye on the alley as I picked it up. Unfolding it carefully, I scanned the words written in precise, dark ink.

You’re running out of time.

That was all it said.

My pulse spiked. I turned the paper over, searching for more, a signature, a symbol—anything. But it was blank.

A warning? A threat? Or something else entirely?

A cold sensation crept through my veins. Because there was one thing I knew for certain.
Whoever left this message had found me. And that meant I wasn’t nearly as hidden as I thought.