When Randolph recovered from whatever condition afflicted him, he found himself alone. Well, unless you count the assortment of flesh and limbs lacking any owner. Randolph himself was left with confusion, an intense hunger, and a cold sticky sensation in his throat. This feeling slowly trudged up and out his throat, making it difficult to breath, almost choking him. He attempted to expel the mass with a few forceful coughs, and after a few minutes a inky formless mass was thrusted out of his mouth and onto the wall in front of him, splattering the surface with a sizzle. 

It might have been a vestige of whatever afflicted him that confuddled his eyes, but the mass seemed to twitch with intent and dissolve the wall like it was acidic, or perhaps eating the wall. But the ghoul did not dwell on this, vaguely remembering he was asked to be somewhere…. Or do… something. There were others he was with, but where were they? Where was anyone? 

A cursory exploration showed the aftermath of the escape has thrust the facility into a state of disarray. Scenes of destruction were common, with doors torn or ruptured in various ways, a mass of recently dead bodies, and few working sources of light. 

Randolph found the one elevator in the whole place, that he knew of, seemed to be either disabled or destroyed, he was not sure but either way it was not working. Which would be bad for anyone trying to leave unless they had another way out, and with the state of the facility Randolph could burrow his way to the surface. Nothing left for him anyway, as he was either left behind or forgotten so there is no where to go but up.

First though, Randolph burrowed a few miles away before going up, he had no way of knowing what was directly above him and it be unfortunate to be recaptured so soon. After about half an hour, he broke through the ground and was blindsided when he discovered it was in the middle of the day and in a crowded location. Coincidentally, he emerged near the other escapees though he was not concerned with them at the moment. Randolph’s senses were assailed by an assortment of lights and sounds that he detested. At least in the prison it was relatively dark and quiet most of the time. He sure as hell was not going back there, but he was going back in the ground for a while. Plus, he was famished, and was certain there would be a cemetery or graveyard or at least a dead body buried in the woods or something nearby. If any of the others cared or needed him, they should know where to find him.