Crawl, Into the Nothing
Posted: Wed Aug 08, 2018 2:19 am
((Nate Chauncey continued from My Home In The Cold Dark))
The tunnels were hard to be comfortable in.
Near the entrance it was a bit chilly from the outdoor air, but as she moved deeper into the earth Nate was reminded of science class. Something about air circulation, more common sense than science, but she couldn't really breathe down there. She was hopefully not going to suffocate, but it was hard not to panic anyway, so she had to stay cold but aerated.
She didn't wake up early this time; the darkness underground left her asleep. The sudden sound of that man's voice startled her, but she managed to gather her wits to listen for the important part. As much as she wished she could ignore the departure of those people, Nate was beginning to realize that now was not a good time to pretend. Reality was at stake here; her own life.
A skirmish with one survivor, followed by a name with a face. Michael Maxwell had been on that cliff edge. What had he said? Nate would have to think on it later. Words of the dead shouldn't be abandoned.
Michael's killer killed someone who'd killed on Day 1, a partner of some sort. The man's tone was vague, probably deliberately. Was she a traitor, or an angel of mercy?
The next one was just crude. Bridgette had killed someone, but this time was killed. The tar pits swallowed her. A horrible image, all too real in Nate's mind. She forced herself to focus on the lesser atrocities that followed.
Three more dead, two more killed. The cabin was open, and the mess hall closed. Nate hoped she didn't ever find out what happened when one of these metal circlets went off.
Oh, right. The cabin was only a few yards away. Nate could pack up her gear, get up and find a more comfortable BEEP
"Ah!" Nate gasped and staggered back at the intrusive noise. Trembling, Nate looked back and forth from the mouth of the cave to the grass, only a yard or two away.
Was it safe? Had she misheard, become distracted and filled in the blank? Nate slowly, slowly, slowly began to move forward onto the grass. Nothing happened. Perhaps the signal had not been cut yet. A glitch, or a cruel prank. She didn't want to know.
The cabin had bullet holes in the front, and even inside. There was a smashed table, a bed positioned awkwardly in front of the door, and the sense of eerie quiet pervaded the place. Nate gingerly moved through the door, gently closed it, and started pushing the bed into an open corner of the room.
Once it was more or less in place, Nate sat down, hands folded. She looked around. She set her bag on the ground right next to the foot of the bed.
Nate fell onto her left side, scooted around, and rolled onto her back, hands on her stomach, staring at the ceiling.
The tunnels were hard to be comfortable in.
Near the entrance it was a bit chilly from the outdoor air, but as she moved deeper into the earth Nate was reminded of science class. Something about air circulation, more common sense than science, but she couldn't really breathe down there. She was hopefully not going to suffocate, but it was hard not to panic anyway, so she had to stay cold but aerated.
She didn't wake up early this time; the darkness underground left her asleep. The sudden sound of that man's voice startled her, but she managed to gather her wits to listen for the important part. As much as she wished she could ignore the departure of those people, Nate was beginning to realize that now was not a good time to pretend. Reality was at stake here; her own life.
A skirmish with one survivor, followed by a name with a face. Michael Maxwell had been on that cliff edge. What had he said? Nate would have to think on it later. Words of the dead shouldn't be abandoned.
Michael's killer killed someone who'd killed on Day 1, a partner of some sort. The man's tone was vague, probably deliberately. Was she a traitor, or an angel of mercy?
The next one was just crude. Bridgette had killed someone, but this time was killed. The tar pits swallowed her. A horrible image, all too real in Nate's mind. She forced herself to focus on the lesser atrocities that followed.
Three more dead, two more killed. The cabin was open, and the mess hall closed. Nate hoped she didn't ever find out what happened when one of these metal circlets went off.
Oh, right. The cabin was only a few yards away. Nate could pack up her gear, get up and find a more comfortable BEEP
"Ah!" Nate gasped and staggered back at the intrusive noise. Trembling, Nate looked back and forth from the mouth of the cave to the grass, only a yard or two away.
Was it safe? Had she misheard, become distracted and filled in the blank? Nate slowly, slowly, slowly began to move forward onto the grass. Nothing happened. Perhaps the signal had not been cut yet. A glitch, or a cruel prank. She didn't want to know.
The cabin had bullet holes in the front, and even inside. There was a smashed table, a bed positioned awkwardly in front of the door, and the sense of eerie quiet pervaded the place. Nate gingerly moved through the door, gently closed it, and started pushing the bed into an open corner of the room.
Once it was more or less in place, Nate sat down, hands folded. She looked around. She set her bag on the ground right next to the foot of the bed.
Nate fell onto her left side, scooted around, and rolled onto her back, hands on her stomach, staring at the ceiling.