by HL TRUSLOVE
You whip your rifle round to your front, the jostling causing the torch that’s hooked to your belt to wave wildly. The shot you fire is nearly deafening in what is otherwise silent darkness, and it echoes horribly in the chamber. You don’t see exactly where the bullet hits, but you hear it ricochet off of hard metal. You hear a sound, a surprised squeal, and scuffling that moves further away from you.
Listening to the world around you for a while after, the only sound you can hear now is your breathing. Whatever was there has gone, deciding to leave you alone. Feeling safer but still shaken, you keep your rifle near your hand as you head back down into the tunnel.
Turn to 22.10.
22.8
Summoning up all your courage, you shout out into the darkness, hoping that whatever is there won’t attack you as soon as it hears you.
“Who’s there?”
The noise of movement stops and you hear someone call back.
“H-hello?”
Your brow furrows. The voice sounds very… young. Timid, even. The softest voice you’ve heard in your time here.
You realise, as the noise starts up again, it is in fact messy footsteps. Clumsy. A figure makes its way out from amongst the machines towards you, the figure of a little girl. Her clothes are far too big on her, and extremely ratty, and her dirty hair is scraped into a ponytail behind her head. She can’t be more than eight years old, and due to the way she doesn’t react to the torch light, she’s obviously completely blind.
“Hello? Who are you? I don’t recognise your voice,” she calls again. She staggers forward, running a hand over the faces of the machines to act as a guide. As she approaches you can see there’s a milky film clung over both of her eyes, rendering them useless. You allow your posture to relax. She couldn’t possibly be a threat.
“What are you doing down here?” you ask. The girl stumbles forward as she follows your voice.
“I got lost. I went out with a scavenging party and we got separated when something started chasing us. I’ve been here on my own.” She fusses at a ragged hem with dirty fingernails. “Do you… think you could help me?”
“No” – Turn to 22.11.
* * *
“Yes” – Turn to 22.12.
22.9
You freeze, breathing slowly to try to keep as quiet as you can. The scuffling sound continues deep in the room. The thought of turning off your torch crosses your mind, but that would plunge you into utter darkness, leaving you totally at the mercy of the world around you, and whatever might be in it.
Instead, you wait, clutching your torch and getting ready to run. Blood pumps through your body and you can taste your heartbeat in your mouth. You count the seconds. One… two… three…
The sounds begin to get quieter as whatever it is heads away from you. You relax and feel the tension leave your body, but stay on guard just in case. Perhaps you aren’t as alone down here as you thought.
Turn to 22.10.
22.10
You keep your guard up as you follow the tunnel down, keeping your ears peeled for anything else that makes an unnatural sound. Panic begins to rise in your chest the further you go on, the tunnel seeming to tighten in on you, and you start to realise just how cramped everything is down here.
You are truly screwed if anything comes after you. You might even be trapped. And that’s not counting your presence shaking anything loose; an old place like this can be rotting…
You see a door in the side of the tunnel, an ancient, metal thing. You realise that hanging above it, the words still somewhat legible, is a sign which reads ‘emergency exit’.
Running over to the door, you yank it open, and it puts up no resistance. There is a spiralling staircase in front of you, the steps made of grated, rusting metal. You take them two at a time as you run upwards, fear driving you on, only caring about getting out. You feel the torch drop from your belt and roll away, down the stairs behind you. You don’t bother to go to pick it back up.
Relief floods into you when you can see the dusk’s sunlight filtering in the further up you get, and soon you come out to a room which holds another rusted door which is missing giant chunks, allowing the natural light to get in. You throw it open and tumble back out into the world, coughing as you take in lungfuls of fresh air.
The door swings shut behind you and lets out a great creak. You don’t look back at it. Instead, you try to focus on what you’ve come out to – a map on a display board of the local area.
You steady your hand to make a note on your map.
END.
Add Instability to your character sheet.
Add The Zoo (Chapter 12, L.12) to map.
22.11
You snort at the little girl. A child alone in the darkness, of course.
But that isn’t your problem. You’re here to explore and find your own group.
Without a word, you turn your back on her and walk away. You hear the little girl call after you, her pleas getting louder and more desperate, but it’s easy enough to ignore them.
One thing does stay with you, though… what did she mean when she said something was chasing them?
Add Cruelty to your character sheet.
* * *
Turn to 22.10.
22.12
“All right,” you say. The little girl’s face lights up in a genuine smile and she reaches out for you. Her tiny hand finds its way into your gloved one, and you head back out onto the tracks. You ask her about where she lives.
“I don’t really know. I think there’s a way to get to the upside though. Sometimes the others go to the top and look around. Sometimes they go looking for rats and things down here to eat.”
Well, you’ve heard of the people out here eating worse. You run your torch across the ground, narrowing your eyes to try to pick out details. It seems like the tunnel just continues onwards, so you have no other choice but to follow it.
The girl’s steps are even more unsure than your own, and she slows you down considerably.
Somewhere up the tracks, you see something blocking your path. It appears to be a carriage of some sort, sitting on the rails. There is a hole in the back of it, allowing you entrance inside. You peer in and see wreckage of what once was inside it: several soft benches with the stuffing torn out, the insides scattered around. It looks wrecked. But with nowhere else to go, you hoist the girl up and then clamber after her, continuing your journey.
You can’t help but be worried about the state of the place. This doesn’t look like it’s down to natural decay. It seems like something has destroyed this place on the inside. As you notice the claw marks across one of the padded seats, you hear growling.
Next to you the girl stands stock still, and you remember her words. “Something was chasing us”.
Ready gun – Turn to 22.13, Needs Sharpshooter.
* * *
Run – Turn to 22.14.
* * *
Hide – Turn to 22.15.
22.13
You push the little girl behind you, acting as a shield between her and whatever is making the noise, then ready your gun. You can see from here that the roof has partially collapsed, making a hole in the ceiling of the cart – and something lithely jumps down to be face to face with you.
Instinctively, you put the gun to your shoulder and take aim. The creature is difficult to make out in the low light, but it looks like some kind of giant cat. You can see it open its fanged maw and it bares its teeth at you, but you don’t allow it to take any further action, firing a round into it. The little girl behind you screams, having had no way to prepare herself for the noise, but your shot finds its mark. The creature slumps down heavily to the floor.
“Are you all right?” you ask her.
“Wh-what was that?!” she exclaims.
“Nothing,” you lie, putting your gun back. No point in scaring her. Instead, you take her hand and push onwards through the rest of the carts, all of which appear to have once been linked together. She
squeezes your fingers tightly as you go, but nothing else interrupts your journey.
Turn to 22.16.
22.14
Clutching the girl’s hand you start off quickly towards the door, which appears to lead into another cart. She isn’t expecting the movement and tries desperately to keep up with you, but her legs are small and unsure, tripping as she moves.
There is a thud as something falls to the floor behind you from a rusted open patch of the cart. You wrench open the next door and try to pull the little girl along with you, but her foot catches on a stray piece of metal and she trips.
There isn’t a chance to pick her up before the creature pounces on her. She barely gets out a scream before a hungry mouth meets her and silences her forever. You hold back a gag, and instead you slam the door behind you, barring it with whatever debris you can.
You run the rest of the way through the carts and try not to be sick.
Add Instability to your character sheet.
* * *
Turn to 22.10.
22.15
You grab the little girl and throw the two of you under some of the destroyed seats. She squeaks, but you slap a hand over her mouth and tell her to be quiet. You try to breathe as silently as you can as you hear a thud of something landing down the other end of the cart. It pads along, breathing heavily, and you can tell it’s some sort of animal, though gods know what kind. It stalks the length of the wreckage and you spy a tail swishing back and forth as it enjoys the hunt.
It pauses next to your hiding place. You almost crush the little girl as you try to keep her from making a noise.
Maybe this is it.
Where your journey ends. You send up a silent prayer to whoever is listening.
But then the creature keeps walking, seemingly done, and you wait until you hear it hop out the other end of the cart. You stay still for a while longer before you dare to move out of your hiding spot, hurrying the girl through and into the next cart. You block the door with debris you find lying around the carriage and hope it will be strong enough to keep out your hunter.
“What was that?” squeaks the girl.
“I don’t know, but I don’t want to stay here and find out,” you reply, then pick her up and run the rest of the way through the carts and along the track out on the other side.
Turn to 22.16.
22.16
You can hear the hum of people as you walk, and along with it, you even see the warm glow of light. The little girl tugs on your hand the closer you get.
“That’s them!” she says, smiling.
Soon you come out of the constricting tunnel. You arrive at an area not unlike the area you saw when you first came into the metro, a large platform spanning a hundred or so feet. Rather than being bare, the place is taken up by rough-hewn tents stitched together from bits of plastic and animal hide. People have got to their feet as you approach, seemingly ready to attack, but the little girl cries out to them and they drop their defences.
A woman pushes through the crowd and throws her hands to her mouth in shock. A shudder of sobs wracks her body and she runs towards you – not you, but your travelling companion.
She picks the little girl up in a swoop of her arms and holds her close, crying, and the little girl hugs her back tightly. After a moment, she has the composure to turn to you.
“Did you help my girl?” she asks. You nod.
“Thank you, stranger. You have done more than you can possibly know for me. Please, get what use from the village you can.”
The ‘village’ is sparsely populated and its inhabitants seem nervous around you, but having seen that you mean them no harm they are happy to host you. The girl’s mother informs you that the beast has been terrorising them for some time now, having come down from the zoo a mile or so away.
There is little for you here, but you spend the night on a soft sleeping mat anyway. The next morning you awake before the rest of the group and ascend the stairs to leave the metro, feeling like you’ve done some small bit of good in this world.
END.
Add Compassion to your character sheet.
Add The Zoo (Chapter 12, L.12) to map.
Chapter 23
The Windmill
23.1
Ever since you got over the bridge, the large hill has been watching you. Everywhere you look are hills, of course, but this place has more intricate topography than anything you’ve seen before – it’s tall enough that it’s difficult to miss.
A windmill, slowly turning in the breeze. A squat white structure next to it. Far too far away for you to make out the details of either one particularly closely, but just visible enough to pique your curiosity, and you might be able to see your group from such a high vantage point. Also, you want to know who would live in a place like that, so far away and secluded from the rest of the population.
There’s no point in a mystery if it can’t be solved.
You’ve been hiking towards the windmill for a couple of days. Your legs are burning from the effort. The incline has gone from slight to steep, and for a while it felt more like climbing than walking. Luckily, the ground has plateaued out, but you’re still worried one misstep will knock your feet from under you and send you rolling back to the bottom like the way you and your friends used to shove each other down the stairs in washing baskets back in the vault, but significantly less enjoyable.
At long last, your weariness is worth it. The trees are beginning to thin out and you can see a bit of the white windmill at the crest of the hill. Though you want to rush onwards, you force yourself to slow for a moment and try to tidy your appearance. Whoever lives here probably isn’t accustomed to visitors – friendly or otherwise – and it would be a good idea to try to make a favourable first impression.
When you stop and search through your belongings for a comb, or anything to tame the tangles in your hair, something grabs your attention. Actually, two things do. The first is that there’s a sign hammered to a stump about fifteen feet in front of you. The second is that to the right, there seems to be a piece of rope tangled in the branches of a thick, leafy tree. Both things seem odd and out of place given the situation you’re in.
Inspect the tree – Turn to 23.2.
* * *
Inspect the rope – Turn to 23.3, Needs Survival.
* * *
Read the sign – Turn to 23.4, Needs Old World Language.
* * *
Keep on towards the windmill – Turn to 23.5.
23.2
You carefully make your way through the litter of leaves and twigs on the ground and up to the tree. It’s too high for you to get a good look at, but there’s definitely a rope in the boughs… in fact, it seems to be tied round a branch, and –
Thwip!
Before you can react, a snare snaps around your ankle and flings you upside down, into the air. You yelp in surprise as the blood rushes to your head and you feel like you’re going to either vomit or pass out – or both. You squeeze your eyes shut and take a moment to regain your coordination before taking a look at what’s going on around you.
The first thing you notice makes you curse – everything has spilled out of your pack and onto the ground. The icing on top of a pretty awful cake. You force yourself to look up – or down? You hate this unnatural angle – and you see round one of your ankles is a tight length of rope keeping you like this.
It was a trap. It was a bloody trap!
You curse yourself for being foolish enough to get into this situation. There’s nothing trustworthy in this place. You let your guard down for five seconds and where do you end up?
Upside down. In a tree.
You sigh. There’s no point in being sour about it. You’re here now. And you need to not be here.
Cut yourself free – Turn to 23.6, Needs Survival.
* * *
Cut yourself free – Turn to 23.6a, Needs Dagger’s Dagger OR Hatchet.
* * *
Try to swing out of t
he trap – Turn to 23.7.
* * *
Wait for somebody to let you out – Turn to 23.8.
23.3
Whatever reason that rope is in the tree, it looks like someone’s tried to hide it. Handfuls of dried leaves have been placed to try and disguise its jarringly different colour. You don’t trust that for a second.
You come at the tree from an angle and start to piece together what you’re seeing. A carefully hidden rope comes to the ground, a couple of spritely saplings holding it in place. It’s a snare trap.
Whoever puts a snare trap out is clearly not looking for company.
Nevertheless, you slowly dismantle it to make sure it isn’t a threat any more. You try to reason with yourself – maybe it’s just here because whoever lives in the windmill is trying to do some hunting, wanting to snatch a couple of rabbits or the like.
