by HL TRUSLOVE
* * *
Turn to 1.14.
1.12
“Feeling the cold already?” she asks with a wry smile, the rosiness in her cheeks giving away the chill she’s feeling too.
She reaches into her pocket and pulls from it a pair of silver sticks, like two toothless keys, joined on a short chain. She twirls them around her finger for a moment and then throws them to you.
You catch them and stuff them into your pocket as you smile in return.
“They tell me it gets better in the summer months.” As she talks, a thin cloud of steam rises from her mouth and curls into the cold air. “I don’t envy you staying here till then.”
“Hopefully I’ll be too busy to notice the cold,” you say hopefully, but even as the words leave your mouth you know they’re a lie. With a sad smile she turns and leaves the tent without another word, and as you watch her go you slide your hand back into your pocket, fingering the cold metal that lies there.
Add Survival (S.7) to your character sheet.
* * *
Turn to 1.14.
1.13
You indicate the rifle at her shoulder. With her arm across her chest she supports its heavy weight. Where the metal of the gun pulls down at the strap, her whole body leans inwards, encumbered by the mass of it. She isn’t used to carrying the thing around like you are.
“Of course,” she says, lifting it from her shoulder. She places your weapon in front of you with a heavy thud. A handful of people look up from their breakfast – some eye the gun nervously, others seem indifferent. Maybe they’ve no need for these weapons here.
Gaia takes a seat beside you. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a fistful of bullets. One by one she counts them out onto the table, placing each one in a line that stretches across the table. When she’s done the effect looks like they’re the spines of some great sea monster rising from the water. She leans in close to speak in your ear.
“Jan told me they haven’t used a gun in ages,” she mutters quietly. “‘Nothing that deadly,' he says. I don’t know if he was bluffing though.”
You nod your head slowly, continuing to look down at your bowl.
“I could always take it back home…” she says. Before she continues, you look up and into her eyes. You feel most comfortable with it by your side. Relenting, she sighs and says, “Of course, if you want it...”
The pair of you sit for a moment. Nearby, a couple of settlers look in your direction. As you scan the room, you make eye contact. Each one meets your eyes, then looks away quickly, unwilling to attract your attention. You stand to leave, hoisting the gun to your shoulder. As you exit the tent you look back to Gaia, who lifts her hand in a half-hearted wave.
Add Sharpshooter (S.8) to your character sheet.
* * *
Turn to 1.14.
1.14
After breakfast, you make your way to the makeshift control centre, a small tent no bigger than the mess room. Its only distinguishing feature is that, next to it, a portable radio tower has been erected, standing strong and true in the cold wind. Inside the tent a couple of people you haven’t met yet look over a map, talking to each other about minutiae that you assume must only be known by the heads of the camp.
As you enter, the one facing the doorway looks up. He is tall, with a shaved head and clean-cut beard. His dark skin seems dry and ashy from the cold climate. His lips are cracked and rough and his eyelids are dusty with flakes of skin.
“Good to see you,” he says in a loud and confident voice. “My name is Fanon, this is Mari. Sorry we couldn’t meet with you yesterday, but it was important we started getting supplies sorted. How was your journey?”
Behind him the girl looks up from the table. She has the man’s nose and chin but is much younger than him – clearly his daughter. Her eyes are dark and when she extends a hand for you to shake you find it cold and dry. She remains passive as you tell her and Fanon about your journey.
Fanon listens intently, nodding every now and then and occasionally interjecting with a question. After a moment he beckons you to the table, where a hand-drawn map is laid out, pinned at the corners with small silver tacks. Around the map a host of cartography tools lie in wait, muddled with pre-war photographs, which appear to have been studied and marked on their map.
“The old satellite images give us a rough idea of the landscape,” says Mari, her voice just as dour as her countenance, “but we rely on scouting parties to make the majority of our reports. That will be your job.”
“Here,” says Fanon, indicating a point on the map, “is where the camp is now. And here is where we hope to establish the first settlement…” As he speaks he draws his finger slowly across the map, moving the tip with the contours and geography of the land. It skims across fields, between hills and over streams to an open patch of land a few kilometres from where the three of you currently stand. He stabs his finger down once again as if to drive the point home. “We’re very excited about this project!”
“You’re very excited,” mutters Mari.
You follow the line he draws and take in the details of the map. Your mind can’t help but begin to wonder about what dangers there are here. It is the old world after all. There’s no telling what could be waiting just around the corner, ready to pick you off at any time.
“The problem is,” Mari continues, “there are too many unknowns for me to sign off on this in full confidence. We’re being told to move inland by Control but I cannot risk a full stage settlement if the land is not... tenable.” The final word hangs in the air for a moment, exuding an awkwardness that you notice immediately.
You look up from the map to her face, but see no indication in her expression of the true meaning of her words. A brief moment of silence passes before Fanon speaks up, jabbing his finger at the map again as he does.
“Two weeks ago we sent a party out here to investigate a pre-war site we think may still be standing. They didn’t have much to report back but we want a follow up.” He points towards an area on the map which is mostly blank. You take a moment to run your eyes across the map again, and this time you notice that as the land moves further from the coast it becomes sparser. The details of the land that have been filled in seem to fade from reality into blank paper. And, beyond the boundaries of the map, nothing at all exists. No markings. Simply an unknown blend of mystery and historical conjecture. Nothing real. Nothing ‘tenable’.
“But more pressingly than that,” interrupts Mari, “is the survivor settlement.”
“Suspected settlement,” Fanon interjects, looking at you as if he’s worried her words will scare you off.
“Yes, yes, suspected settlement.” She indicates a blank section of the map somewhere along the coastline, where the vague outlines of the shore have been sketched out as disjointed fragments resembling cracks in the earth. Some join together into long, unbroken lines. Some are fractured and disparate, floating disconnected from anything else. On one side the endless sea stretches across the map, from the table and far off into the distance. Beyond the barrier of these lines lies a total unknown.
“We’ve had mixed reports of survivors gathering in this area. We suspect a fishing village. Perhaps even some trade. But we can’t confirm anything.”
“I refuse to send this expedition anywhere near those savages until we know they’re no threat,” says Mari. Her tone is calm and measured. Her language does not seem hateful, or even fearful, but she speaks as if every word is an objective fact.
“We have some time before the camp is ready to move,” says Fanon. “We’re sending you out tomorrow morning. We expect you back within a week with your findings. Oh, and one more thing.”
He reaches over and attaches something to the front of your coat. It’s a badge, one you recognise – the official sigil of the vault marking you as an explorer for them.
And with those words, he’s sealed your fate.
END.
Add The Powerplant (CH3, L.3), The Ship
(CH5, L.5), The Seaside Farm (S.1, L.S1) and The Storm (CH2, L.2) to map.
* * *
Turn to Chapter 2.
Chapter 2
The Storm
2.1
It feels odd to wake up on solid ground. Over the past three weeks you got used to the feeling of the ocean beneath you; it had gradually grown to become comforting, like a mother rocking her child. The firm ground disorientates you with its stillness, as if you’ve been run aground.
Knowing you won’t be able to get any more sleep, you sit up in your bedroll and run your hands over your face, trying to massage heat into it with stiff fingertips. At least that’s one thing which hasn’t changed. It’s just as cold in the mornings here as it was on the open ocean. You miss the comfort of the artificial heat of the vault, electric generators chugging out warmth into the little living abodes. Nowadays, you’re lucky to wake up with any feeling in your toes.
You unzip the door to your tent and stick your head out. There’s frost settling on the grass and you can see your breath leave your mouth in little silver puffs. The camp is already quite busy, the inhabitants bustling about and attending to their morning business. You feel nervous and excited about what’s to come. You’re about to become a legend. Maybe you’ll find something of such worth that they’ll add your findings to the history books, write your name in print for children to learn about in lessons. Either way, this is the most adventure that you’ve ever had.
The frost crunches beneath the tread of your boot as you head out for the day. You collapse your tent in a few quick expert movements and attach it to your pack. Nobody pays you any mind or offers to help – you suppose they’re too caught up in their own lives to bother.
With everything assembled you decide to seek out a familiar face. There’s still a pile of crates from a couple of days prior - they’re being dismantled, with camp inhabitants hauling them in various directions. Overseeing the whole operation is Jan. He smiles at you warmly as you approach him.
“How did you sleep?” he asks. You’re taken aback by the question and clearly show it on your face because he laughs. It’s not something you’re used to being asked – on the ship you, Gaia and Viktor rarely bothered with pleasantries like that, most of your time being used to keeping yourselves afloat or occasionally reminiscing about your childhood in the vault.
“Fine,” you say, omitting the part where you found it difficult to sleep without the odd but reassuring lullaby of gulls.
“Good to hear. You’ll be needing all your strength I reckon, eh? Heading off for your big adventure?” he smiles even brighter and you try to ignore the fact his constant cheerfulness is mildly irritating. “You know where the breakfast tent is. You’ll probably want to get something to eat before you head out. Before you go though, would you like a shower?”
A shower? Your eyes widen in surprise. You’ve been washing with cold water from buckets. A shower seems like a luxury, one you never thought you’d get in the new world.
“Yes” – Turn to 2.19.
* * *
“No” – Turn to 2.20.
2.2
You find Gaia and Viktor by the ship. Viktor and a couple of other men from camp are loading empty crates back on board. Gaia stands with her hands on her hips overseeing the whole operation – or, perhaps more accurately, giving the illusion of overseeing it, and in fact just trying to do as little work as possible. She waves at you as she sees you cresting a hill and walking over to her.
“We reckon we’re heading back out today. Maybe tomorrow morning, depending how long it takes these lazy dogs to pack the ship back up!”
Viktor shoots her a rude gesture and she throws her head back and laughs. When that dries up, she turns back to you, an unfamiliar look of sincerity on her face.
“So you’re really doing it, eh? Taking on the old world?”
“I suppose so,” you reply. She nods, slowly, looking back over towards the sea.
“You’re much braver than I could ever be, you know. You’ll be fine. You’re resourceful and you’re smart. But,” she looks like she’s not sure whether to say the next part or not, “you could always come back with us. I don’t think anyone would judge you, you know.”
You consider this. Your family would probably be glad to have you back, knowing you weren’t disappearing into the unknown without support. But you could imagine the looks of pity from Mari and Fanon and your stomach churns. You can’t. You can’t go back now. You’ve come too far.
“I thought you’d say that,” sighs Gaia when you tell her. “You’re also a stubborn ass. Just be careful, all right?”
She looks like she wants to tell you more, but you both turn when you hear her name. One of the crates has come loose and Viktor is desperately scrambling to re-secure it; he needs help. Gaia curses and jogs over, leaving you standing alone on the hillock, watching your travelling companions try and solve their problems without you.
It’s strange. It makes you feel a bit lonely.
Turn to 2.5.
2.3
You hear Mari before you see her, barking orders to the group around her. She speaks too quickly and too gruffly for you to actually make out any of her words, but her posse seems to be well versed in her particular language and are running off to different areas of the camp at her behest. She raises an eyebrow when she sees you.
“I thought you’d be off,” she says.
“I was. I am. I just… I’m not sure where to go first,” you confess. She rolls her eyes at you and it makes you feel about a foot tall.
“Didn’t we discuss this yesterday? I told you where you should go. I even marked it out on your map.”
Clearly you must look upset because she goes on to sigh and rub her eyes.
“Look,” she says, her voice softer now, “I know you’re nervous. But you have to rely on your own judgement. In the field, you’re not always going to have someone to help you. Make a decision and stick with it. You were sent out here for a reason, right? Now go and live up to it.”
It’s a short and strange pep talk, but there is truth in it. They wouldn’t have put you on the boat to the old world if they didn’t think you had the courage to explore it. It’s time to start listening to your gut.
“Thank you,” you say, and Mari gives you a smile, something which you’re not sure you’ve actually seen her do before.
“All right, now off you go, before the day runs away with you.”
You don’t need telling twice, newly full of resolve, ready to take on whatever the old world has to throw at you.
Add Resolve to your character sheet.
* * *
Turn to 2.5.
2.4
You find Fanon tucked away in the corner of the camp, sitting on a bench and fiddling with something in his hands. It’s still quite early in the morning, not much past dawn, but he already looks tired. Then again you suppose he and Mari do run this camp. They have a lot more responsibility on their shoulders than everyone else and part of that probably involved being the earliest risers. Despite this, he still smiles at you as you make your way over to him.
“Our new scout. How does the morning find you?” he asks.
“Fine... nervous,” you confess. He shuffles over and pats the now freed-up seat next to him. You accept the invitation and feel glad that he’s already warmed it up for you.
“I was one of the first ones to come here, you know. Go exploring in this world. Mari was only a child back then. Her mother had passed and I wanted a new life for us… and as you know, the options in the vault aren’t exactly varied.” He sighs and you see what’s in his hands now – it’s a little wood figurine which he’s carving with a sharp knife. “Let me tell you, the first time? It’s always terrifying. But you were sent out here for a reason. They must have thought you could stomach it. And so do I. Have faith in yourself, kid.”
When he smiles, the wrinkles around his mouth become more pronounced. You imagine him as a young man with a baby daug
hter in tow, coming to this world with no information whatsoever. He must have been so brave.
Now it’s your turn to find that bravery too.
“All right,” you tell him, nodding firmly. He claps you on the shoulder with a large hand.
“You’ll be fine, young one. I know it.”
It’s a reassuring thing to hear.
Turn to 2.5.
2.5
Compass. Map. Tent. Bedroll. Food. Water.
Reasonably, you know there’s no way they can’t all be there. Nobody’s been in your pack except you. Also, you checked only thirty seconds ago.
Compass. Map. Tent. Bedroll. Food. Water.
But it’s reassuring, the repetition. It brings you comfort each time that you know you’re ready for whatever is going to come your way.
Compass. Map. Tent. Bedroll. Food. Water.
You say your goodbyes. Fanon shakes your hand firmly and wishes you luck. Even Mari manages a couple of words of reassurance. Gaia gives you a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek. Viktor waves which, knowing him, is his equivalent of a bear hug and a kiss on the cheek.
