As you feel great jaws plunge around your body-- the beast ''bites'', jamming serrated, vile teeth straight through your body.\n\nYou are hauled up as if nothing as the beast shakes you, your brain screeching in protest to proximity to a creature so unnatural.\n\nIt throws you down to the floor with a smash, and you feel your innards moving a step behind the rest of your body-- bones tear organs, your own weight used [[against you|18-4]].

You don't need it where you're going. A blind scramble forwards gives you time and speed and when you slam into a corner that does not ring, you know you've found a solid wall. Around the corner you turn and forwards you dash, hands and knees throbbing dully as you go.\n\nThe darkess is at your back, cloying at your booted heels, but you refuse its will to bridge the gap and as you go, eventually, there is light.\n\nThree thin bars of murky light draw closer and closer and with it, the promise of outside.\n\nYou reach them and punch at the cover.\n\nIt's screwed in, solid.\n\nShit!\n\nYou slam your weight against it, over and over again, growing more and more desperate with each thud of your shoulder.\n\nThe droning screech of force wells and wells, [[until|14append]]--

You can't think, the roar throwing you off course. You wrap your strong arms around your head and tuck your body in on itself as you crash down to the floor.\n\nThe collision is strong, but it doesn't prepare you for the force of the brick, splintering wood and metal that buffets your body as the resonance reaches screaming point. You try to move, but...\n\nSomething is embedded in your side.\n\nIt takes a while for you to realise that you are bleeding and when the rubble is brushed from you, your body screams, forcing the last of the air from your lungs within your mask. Your scream does not sound like your own, rather something warping as it leaves your mouth, twisting this way and that until distorted towards the mass that you cannot see, but sense.\n\nClaws [[rake your back|18-1]].

You veer off to the right, sure that it would be best not to take any falls. Ruling that you would operate best without any injuries, you squeeze around the corner to your right and continue with a brisk pace.\n\nTo be cornered in such a narrow space is a concept that you are not fond of in the slightest. While the constricted face feels safe, unease creeps upon you.\n\nWith each movement, the metal beneath you grows weaker and weaker. A sharp groan has you worried and, reconsidering your path, you begin to [[backtrack|13- Fall]]--

The sun rose red that morning, clouded by fires that ravaged cityscapes and countryside alike.\n\nFire does not discriminate. It tore apart technology, great minds, slums, beggars, saints and civilisation as eagerly as it did the forests and concrete until the sky wept black, purging all beneath it.\n\nYou weren't sure if you remembered the world before the wastes. Vague memories of celebrations against a dark sky, of myriad lights tracing bright trails in ropes, loud music, cheering, your father's arms holding you aloft the crowds to see the gaudy procession more clearly. Fond memories, clung to, savoured in those long, dark nights huddled underground, alone, arms wrapped around knees, never truly sleeping.\n\nWhy you roam was a question you could no longer answer.\n\nWas it hope?\n\nWhat could you possibly hope for? The thought brought a bitter smile to your face.\n\nThe siren begins to wail, far off, in the hazy, clouded distance, sepulchral, screaming warning to the outlaying husk of the city.\n\nThe hole you discovered, a bricked pocket just below ground level, warm with your breath and body, is no longer safe. Quickly, you shake off the trappings of sleep, grab your meagre pack and scramble out of the improvised dugout without stopping to brush the dirt from your body. Somebody said once that the earth is a deterrent to the forces that wander the wastes. You hope they're right.\n\nWith such little time, you dash for the nearest building-- it goes down, hits the bottom of the hill. To go out through uncovered wastes is suicide. Stick to the cover.\n\nYou've had no choice but to [[learn that|2- Alert]].

You'll make sure that day is as far away as possible.\n\n//fin.//

//PRESSURE

You continue on your way and carry on down several more drops, each less kind than the last. Your head rattles as, slowly, the light begins to die. Rather than panicking, you stop, raise hands towards the mechanism, when--\n\nThe ringing returns to your ears.\n\nThudding in your ears, your heartbeat gains resonance in the cramped vent.\n\nShit!\n\nBarely two metres behind you, a piercing crash booms as //something// rips its way into the shaft. Claws squeal against the metal as it reaches in and you have to move! Now!\n\nShit, shit! Can you do [[without light|14- (without light)]]?\nOr do you [[need it, badly|15- Eaten]]?

//you are nothing more than flesh.\n\nwho gives you claim to this world?\n\nwhere is your god, human?\n\ndoes he comfort you still?\n\nor did he ever even exist?\n\n[[ha...|19- RUN2]]//

A presence overwhelms you, until a thrumming beat becomes a [[screech|MaulAppend2]]--

Claws lash out from the dark, sudden, [[screaming|MaulAppend3]]--

You cry, but there is nobody to hear.\n\nTeeth sink into your unarmoured chest and rip hunks of muscle and meat out with each piercing screech.\nYou thrash, but are unable to fend for yourself.\nThe pressure screams as it feasts upon your glistening innards.\n\nYou are meat, now.

//abominations don't deserve to roam this world...\n\ni will quash them [[all|19-3]].//

//oh god, what will it do to me, please, [[no|19-3]]--//

//funny little human...\nyou are nothing more than flesh.\nyour struggles...\n''amuse'' [[us|18-2]]...//

You quash the voice that rings in your head, which drips with blood and rot, the tick of a Geiger counter, the screams of millions.\n\nIt is fire. It is suffering. It is the hubris of man and the will of the irradiated earth.\n\nIt is forcing you out. Ushering itself in.\n\nAn uninvited guest.\n\nAn ''//invader//''.\n\nYour lips [[judder open|18-3]]--

You scramble towards the door that opens onto the service stairway-- it leads outdoors, cloaked in shadow. A direct route down is a good idea, isn't it? With your pack slung over your back, you try to run as lightly as you can, but your boots thunder on the concrete. A thrum threatens to crush your head as you race for the door, with its glass panes smashed out.\n\nThankful for your heavy gloves, you vault through the door and begin to clatter down the stairs, literally racing for your life.\n\nThese creatures are few and far between, but the ruins they leave are chilling. In your travels, you've seen them-- the scorched shanty towns, the husks of factories, all torn asunder, charred black by the beasts that nobody can name. People stand no chance against them. You've seen the corpses, torn apart at the chest and feasted on, skin burned just as brick had been. If you cannot hide, then you have no hope of survival.\n\nYou've always been sharp, though. Known when to hide and when to run.\n\nYour hand scrapes down the uneven surface of the banister, tearing flecks of ancient paint and rust from the groaning metal, [[until|7- Impaled on Metal]]--

No sound leaves your lips, only blood forced from your throat.\n\nThe teeth come down again and you are pinned, held to the floor as the resonant creature tears you apart in mouthfuls, as if you were no bigger than a mouse.\n\nBlood floods from the filter of your mask.\n\nThere was no hope.\n\nWas there?\n

... and scramble to your feet.\n\nDare you [[look back|19- Look Back]]?\nOr will you [[keep running|19- RUN]]?

The hall that awaits you is a rather simple one, evidently a serviceway before. A large set of double doors wait halfway down.\n\nJust what you [[needed|16-1]].

You slam into the doors at the end of the hallway.\n\nTears stil your eyes as your fingers curl around the rotten wooden board barring them shut.\n\nYou can't bear to [[look back|GIVEUP4]].

//But... that worked, didn't it?\n\nYou stole from them as they slept, but you couldn't free any innocents.\n\nYou left them there. Selfish.\n\nSelfish little creature.\n\nIt's best that you [[died|GIVEUP3]].//

//You didn't have anything left, did you?\n\nOne of the supposedly 'lucky' ones to survive, to escape with their life.\n\nStarting out was the worst.\n\nPicking through the bones and ashes of what had once been people.\n\nIdentifying bodies.\n\nYou hid from other people, away from their cruelty-- you saw how they treated others.\nRather than rise, you [[ran|GIVEUP2]].//

You hit the base of the stairs with a sigh of relief, concrete beneath your feet a strange comfort. It doesn't ring as you run-- it's solid. You thank whatever deity or force is looking over you and swing around the burnt-out door frame with one arm as you refuse to let your pace flag.\n\nThe hall that awaits you is a rather simple one, evidently a serviceway before. A large set of double doors wait halfway down.\n\nJust what you [[needed|16-1]].

Your weight comes crashing down on something that cannot resist it. The metal buckles beneath you and gives, though your momentum throws you forwards, onto the edge of the step before you. Jagged metal tears at your body as you fall, ripping your light layers apart.\n\nYour fall is caught on a great, vile tooth of metal bigger than yourself.\n\nYour torn organs are in vague sight as you sink down the splitting metal.\n\nA groan leaves your lips as the resonance closes in.\n\nOnly fools rush, no?

You keep running, until you hit a window at the end of the hallway.\n\n[[Put it out with your arm.|19- RUN5]]

The glass shatters and you climb straight through, shoving your shoulders through the narrow gap. You hit the ground in a roll and without thinking, are back up on your feet, running.\n\nThe courtyard is huge, eerie in its calm, but you have no time to appreciate the silence as the resonance screams in the back of your head.\n\nYou run.\n\nAnd run.\n\nAs you slip into the darkness of the ruined factories, your eyeballs [[thrum|19- RUN6]].

//run, run along, human...\n\nhide while you can.\n\nthe planet will [[consume you|19- RUN7]]...//

You fall from the cover and onto a solid concrete floor.\n\nThere's no time to waste and you scramble back to your feet and lurch down the hallway, even more [[desperate for freedom|18- Monster Hall-1]] than before.

Carefully as you can, you open the creaking double doors that let you into the abandoned factory and check the Geiger counter-- it crackles in warning of radiation, foreboding. As the doors come to close behind you, you take several steadying breaths and wait, listen--\n\nA droning siren, drops of water.\n\nResonance clouds your ears, mimicking the beat of your heart. It's choking, burning, a warning.\nThe last traveler you ran into, months and months ago, warned of it-- said the ringing drove men mad, turned them into monsters.\n\n//If you ever hear it, he said, ''run''. Run as far away and fast as you can, Survivor.\nIt creeps, slow and mean as a starving wolf and pounces on those that stumble.\nTell me, Survivor... Can you feel it?//\n\nA [[woman cries|3- Mauled]].\n\nYou tense-- the ringing sends a shiver down your spine and adrenaline begins to filter into your system.\n\nIt's time to run.\n\nBefore you are [[stairs|5- Hide Under Stairs]] that lead downwards-- going up would be suicide at this point, a trap.\n\nSurely, you could fit into the [[vents|4- Hide in Vents]]? The rusted cover hangs precariously from its hinges and with a running start; you could make it up there.\n\nRinging and dripping pierce your mind.

//hahahahahaha...\nhahahahahahahahahahahaha...//\n\n..........\n........\n....\n...\n..\n.\n\n[[No...|19- RUN3]]

You quash the voice that rings in your head, which drips with blood and rot, the tick of a geiger counter, the screams of millions.\n\nIt is fire. It is suffering. It is the hubris of man and the will of the irradiated earth.\n\nIt is forcing you out. Ushering itself in.\n\nAn uninvited guest.\n\nAn ''//invader//''.\n\nYou will [[not let it win|19- RUN4]].

But the metal beneath you gives way with a scream of metal tearing, weakened by rust.\n\nYou fall and fall, until the expected impact is interrupted by tearing pain as a jagged peak of metal punctures straight through your body, ripping innards along its brutal path.\n\nA wheeze is all you can manage as blood begins to drain from your prone form, at the mercy of the blackness that closes in.\n\nThe charge of your torch dies before you do, leaving nothing to comfort you but darkness.\n\nA pressure begins to build in your head.\n\nIt ''found you''.

You move, tentatively, towards the sounds of sobbing. A human part of you reaches out with empathy, a will to aid another human being-- it's been so long since you've seen another that you want to help, in any way you can.\n\nSurvival could be easier with another, or would it hinder you?\n\nAs you creep down the hallway, resonance pressures your mind. The hallway is dark, lit only by the flickering of a broken lamp running off of an emergency generator close to its last rotation.\n\nThere's [[nothing there|MaulAppend1]].

It hunts for the ''[[thrill|19-3]]''.

There's... no point running, is there?\n\nDespair has its ways of creeping up on you. It starts out as a speck on the soul, until it begins to spread and spread, staining your chest black.\n\nAnd yet, you can't scrub it out, can you?\n\nThe first time you [[felt it|GIVEUP1]]...

You are [[petrified|19-3-1]].\nYou are [[disgusted|19-3-2]].\n\nBut... you must [[run|19- RUN]].\nOr... do you not see the [[point|19- GIVE UP]]?

You have no choice but to run, casting away the trappings of despair.\n\nTearing your eyes away, you flee, even though there is little room to escape to.\n\nWith a booming howl, the beast [[pursues|19- RUN1]].

Against better judgement, you decide that down is the best way to go. Without wasting a second, you move forwards to the edge and lean the light over-- it looks just far enough for you to get down if you wrap up your head. It's a leap of faith, but what other choice do you have?\n\nSo you brace yourself and slowly, edge down over the drop. Your hands squeak against the metal as you stop yourself from plummeting, braced either side of the shaft until you cannot hold any longer. Your arms wrap around your head and down you go-- you strike the base and side forwards into the narrow passage, propelled by the rest of your body.\n\nThe racket is unmistakable, but you are a step closer to your goal. Nothing on your mask smashed, thankfully, and you are in one piece. But there is no time to pat yourself on the back or linger and you are straight back on your hands and throbbing knees, advancing carefully.\n\nGod, you'd be happy if you never had to chance a vent ever again, but life in the wasteland is not so kind a guarantor. You're used to it, in a twisted way. Scavenging. Eating whatever you can find, be it canned meat, a fresh-caught rat or god forbid, the fallen. The last man you met had extoled the virtues of eating humans, but you were unconvinced. You've gone this long by sticking to your morals. They aren't going to change.\n\nBut then... how desperate are you, really?\n\nThe thought is [[sobering|14- Monster Breach]].

You scramble forwards on knees and one hand as you bring the lever of the torch to your mouth and begin to wind it frantically. It sputters back to life, but can barely pierce the darkness that seeps towards you and begins to overtake, its deep, shadowy tendrils cloying for you.\n\nYou drop the torch as the vent begins to tilt backwards-- it clatters down and towards the deafening thrum and you realise that you cannot move any further forwards, the incline growing steeper and steeper--\n\nAnd back you fall, skidding helplessly into jaws that you cannot even see. Jaws clamp around you as the darkness grows impermeable, swallowed whole by a force that holds no true form.\n\nMeat for the grinder. Bones for the fires.

You refuse to stop and keep running, forcing your legs harder, until your muscles burn. Just barely, you make it away from an explosion of brick, mortar, splinters of wood and throw yourself away from the worst of the wreckage.\n\nYou hit the floor with a [[THUMP|17-1]]--

You don't have the time to waste-- you can't let whatever that was catch up to you, whatever you do. Your heavy boots slam loudly against each step and as you thunder down, your heart slams in your throat as your breathing wheezes through your filters. The coloured discs over your eyes begin to fog and you curse softly, mentally, as your vision in the dark grows murkier.\n\nThrough the dimness, resonance thrums in your ears, cloying, demanding. The sound of a lurking predator, hidden out of sight, toying with its prey. You're bait in this building. You're a meal on the move, a fresh body, new blood for the beasts that nobody can explain. An old Baba, a wizened woman of the wastes, read your palm one time, burned incense that smelt like shit and told you, as she smoothed her fingers over your lines, that they crawled from the power plants many years ago. They came first, from the Elephant's Foot, the largest reactor of them all, and seeped from darkness when its influence spread.\n\nUnnatural. Abominations.\n\nThat's what they are.\n\nYou're good at hiding.\n\nThat's what's [[saved you|16- Monster Hall]].

There's so little time to decide, but you take your chances and dash for the vent cover that yawns open just far enough to accommodate your bulk. With a powerful leap, your arms catch the hole and with pedalling feet, you clamber up into the welcoming ventilation duct. With no time to waste, you scramble down the dark tunnel on hands and knees and when silence reigns, you pause.\n\nYou reach up to the collar of the leather jacket you've treasured for years //(a gift from a beloved friend, whose body was burned with the others when the bombs fell-- she didn't make it out of the building where she worked. You found her when the dust had settled, identifiable only by the charred rings on her fingers, jewels pried out by a scavenger before you.)// and take hold of a small device. Despite the darkness, you know where a small lever clips out.\n\nTaking a firm grasp of the lever, you wind it with haste and an LED comes to life.\n\nLight shows a dusty, cobwebbed duct. Beneath your knees, it feels stable, supported by brick and as you crawl ahead, the path splits.\n\n[[Straight ahead|11- Vent Run]], there appears to be a drop, leading downwards.\n\n[[To the right|12- Weak Vent Base]], the base of the vent grows rusted, but it is even.\n\nA thrum behind you sends a shiver down your spine. It's time to choose.

All you need is a deep shelter. Before the bombs fell, people were paranoid-- shelters were built everywhere, especially in industrial areas. Designed for many people, stocked to the brim with food and water...\n\nYou could really do with one right now.\nYou're getting tired of sleeping in dug-outs wrought with your own hands.\nIt might even be a good place to [[end it all|16-3]].\n\nYour footfalls ring loudly in the hallway and slowly, a sound builds at the back of your [[skull|16-4]].

//No... You can't think that way. [[Stop it|16-2]].//

You'll be out of here, [[safe|16-2]], soon.

//''[[Resonance|16-5]].''//

A great, crooning, powerful //scream// of a roar explodes from the wall behind you, enough to make you swerve away--\n\nWill you [[keep running|17]]?\nOr would it be wiser to [[cover your head|18- Cover Head]]?

Alexander Young

//What a waste.//

You hazard a look over your shoulder and you see it.\n\nIts shape is bizarre, indistinguishable, a shadow of a beast with a pointed 'face'. You imagine it's the face, as a jaw drops open, shows vicious serrated teeth and slowly, something opens into an 'eye', a white thrumming force that sets upon yours, despite your mask.\n\nIt bores into your soul with the greed of a predator sated.\n\nIt is not [[hungry|19-1]].

The stairs are a good idea. You throw yourself towards the stairwell and clatter down the solid concrete steps. The hand rail is rusted to the point of uselessness, broken apart, edges like twisted orange teeth.\n\nYour hands are gloved to the tips in light, tough leather that kills sensation, but you daren't try your luck on the mangled rail. As you run, your arms pump powerfully, built from the years of scavenging, of the prowess needed to survive in this warped, dangerous world.\n\nYou hit a landing, swing your body in and stop under the stairs, uneven concrete scraping against your back as you wait, trying hard not to heave for breath in your gas mask. It's a trusty piece of kit, but damn, if it isn't loud. With forcibly controlled breath, you stop a moment, gather your thoughts.\n\nYou can't spare the time. [[Keep running down|8- Down Stair Run]]. Go.\nThere's a service stairway in sight. [[Give it a try|6- Unstable Stairs]]. Do it.\n