“We have to go back down,” Lukas said, his voice shaking violently as he looked around for his dropped flashlight. “If there’s an urban explorer or a squatter down there who got caught in the blast, we can’t just leave them.”
Jannik grabbed Lukas tightly by the shoulder, pulling him forcibly away from the smoking hatch. “Look at the smoke, Lukas! Look at your hands!” A fine, yellow-grey chemical residue was already settling on their skin, and the air coming out of the hatch was growing so thick and hot that the surrounding grass was visibly wilting.
To venture back down into that pitch-black, structurally compromised labyrinth without breathing apparatus or light was absolute suicide. Swallowing the immense guilt and terror, they made the agonizing choice to abandon the bunker. They turned and sprinted through the trees back toward their campsite, grabbed their phones, and immediately dialed the emergency services.